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a-b-riddle · 5 months

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Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

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luveline · 2 years

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if you’re taking joel requests here’s one :3

touch-starved!joel who isn’t aware he’s touch starved but then extremely affectionate reader comes along and just always! touches! him! loving & intentional touches, casual touches—all of it drives him wild and he loves it!!

thank you!! I hope this is okay! Touch-starved Joel who wants you but doesn't know how to want you w/ mutual pining ♥︎ fem!reader 2k

Joel wishes you wouldn't work the same shifts as him. Wishes you didn't have to work any shifts at all, wishes you didn't know this life, but you do. He wishes you wouldn't pick all the high-paying, devastating jobs that he does, wishes you didn't insist on keeping him company. And above all, he wishes you wouldn't touch him, because he can't handle the way that he feels when you do.

Sharing shifts turns to seeing one another outside of the old meat market by accident. In turn, that becomes purposeful. Before he really knows it, you're comfortable enough to come by his apartment and you'll wait there even when he isn't home just to see him. Precious hours of your life spent curled in on yourself at his door.

Joel nudges your sleeping body with his shoe and then feels like the world's biggest asshole. He sighs, kneeling down despite his aching back, and shakes your shoulder. He notices how soft your jaw looks when you sleep and has to look away, lest he think about it too much now, and remember it later. You have this habit of chasing him into bed when you're not there.

Your hand wakes before your eyes do, and you curl your fingers around his wrist, half on his sleeve and half on his skin. Where you connect hums with heat.

"Why are you out here?" He changes his prerogative, feeling as though chastisement is more important. "You have no sense of danger, even now. Get up."

He doesn't speak without fondness. You'd have to look hard to find it, but it's undoubtedly there.

His tone has you awake and alert quickly, your gaze on his face. "I do," you say croakily, letting him pull you into a standing position.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"I can't call first… You look tired."

"I am. I'm not staying up." He pulls his wrist from your lingering grasp. "Should've called."

"You act like you don't like me," you say without inflection, following him in through the door and closing it softly behind you.

He drops his jacket over the back of the couch and scrubs his face with both hands. His back aches from standing and heaving all day, his arms tight with a cramping tension.

If he were younger he'd turn around and wrap you up in his arms. He'd tell you what he really thinks of you, your head hooked in the crook of his arm, his free hand roaming lazily over your back. His pinky finger would run along the line of your jeans playfully, and maybe you'd laugh. You don't laugh as much as you should.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No, Joel."

You'd lie even if you were.

He moves into the kitchen, makes himself a small glass of water, and leans against the counter. He tries not to drink it like a total pig knowing you're watching, but he's dehydrated and cotton-mouthed.

The window paints you in a weak light, like iced tea. You pick over his things and arrange yourself on the couch like a tired house cat, pulling your legs up and rubbing your cheek against the backrest. Shoulders to the arm, you're almost lying down. He could superimpose you into his sheets, imagining how you might look in bed, not naked or waiting or anything so salacious, just how you’d look getting ready to sleep. He wonders if you wear pyjamas, figures you likely sleep dressed as you are now in your shirt and jeans. Maybe you swap denim for sweatpants, maybe you don’t. Maybe you peel your shirt off, maybe your bra. He entertains a life where he gets to see it and finds it painful as wrapping his hand around a hot poker, because that life is alarmingly close to this one, if he were to take one small leap.

“Where were you today?” he asks.

He sees a flicker of humour flit across your face. He knows it as one of your tells — you'd thought about bending the truth.

"You don’t have to worry, I’m just… rundown. Felt sicker than usual, so I stayed home."

It's automatic for him to give you a once over as he would with anybody who feels under the weather. You haven't been unlike yourself, you aren't sweating or irritable. You're fine. You’re more than fine.

You have a strange inability to look after yourself. He believes in positive (and negative) reinforcement.

"Good girl," he says.

You smile at your hands, picking at nails he knows are scrubbed raw and clean as he crosses the room to sit with you on the couch. You're quick to push your legs over his lap, your jeans riding up until the rarely-seen skin of your ankles peak out.

"I had an incredible headache," you continue. "And I felt like the blood was rushing in my ears when I stood up but I wasn’t dizzy.”

You touch him and it's like all his agitation starts to numb itself. The weight of your legs has him forgetting his aching back and his sore arms. He stares at his closed fist by your foot, willing himself to touch you; all he wants to do is grab your leg, feel the dough and softness of it under his palm. You sit up a touch to brush a longer piece of hair sticking out behind his neck.

He pretends you aren't moving at all.

"Do you feel better now?" he asks.

Your knuckle brushes under his jaw. He feels the short hairs of his beard catching.

"I feel fine," you say. "How are you feeling?"

He turns to face you head on. He’s not going to answer your question. You already know he won’t, but you've asked anyway. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You really do look tired,” you say softly, concern knitting your brows together. He thinks it’s your most devastating look yet. “I don’t wanna keep you up, Joel, I’ll go home. You can get some real rest.”

He almost says Hey, I don’t want you to leave yet, and you’re already standing up. You look more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you aren’t — you're a lightness. You drain the levy, and he can’t see himself getting any rest at all if you leave.

You’re saving him the awkwardness, climbing off of his couch and out of his lap to track down your shoes. “And, you know, you could shower,” you say, trying to infuse some life back into the room, “I know the cold water bites but we all gotta do it.”

He stands up too fast and feels an absence of noise. No blood rushing in his ears, no beating heart. He’s too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what he wants. He can’t ask you to stay.

You lean down to hook your finger into the back of your sneaker and stop at his expression. You stand a little taller. Whatever vulnerability he sees in you now, your short black socks against the floor, your sweet-eyed, tentative smile, he suspects he’d find it doubled in the mirror.

“Joel, I…”

He can’t ask you.

But that doesn't mean you can't ask him.

"Do you think I could stay, after all? To sleep. Just to sleep," you say. Your voice is quiet, like you're trying to spare yourself some dignity if you need to take it back.

He thinks about it. You, in his bed. You, sleeping as you had been in his hallway, your lashes skimming the delicate skin under your eyes, your neck craned in. You, with your hands under your cheek, your sluggish breathing, your heart capering only a handful of inches from his.

A beat. "You kick in your sleep?" he asks, cotton-mouth returned.

"No," you say. You laugh through it, making the word so thick it's almost sticky. Honey in sound.

It solidifies what he's said yes to. He doesn't know how to sleep next to you. He barely knows how to talk to you, and doesn't try as he leads you into his bedroom. Thankfully, you spare him. He knows you aren't the most confident person on the planet, and that each bold move you make is for his benefit. He tries to be unflinching in return, kicking out of his shoes and throwing back the blankets to lie flat on the sheets. You settle in next to him with little ceremony.

You keep your legs hiked up at first, your heels digging into the mattress near his knees. You turn your face to his, and he turns his face to yours. He can see your every wrinkle and line this close. You must be seeing his.

"You got lucky with the neighbour lottery, huh?" you say, not quite whispering. "It's silent."

He doesn't want you to stop talking, but he can't help himself. "Almost," he says wryly.

You know him well enough to smile. "I guess you don't need the quiet," —you turn carefully onto your side, letting the weight of your knees rest on his thigh— "'cause you work all day every day."

The opposite. The shit he sees on shift is enough to give anybody insomnia.

"I'm the bad neighbour."

"Oh, right, your radio." The back of your hand touches his arm. The slightest of touches but enough to make him realise how much he wants it. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away. He wants it worse than a hydro.

"I might, uh, might cling a little, in my sleep. You can push me away, swears. Even if you gotta really fight me on it." You close your eyes, burrowing your face into one of his flat pillows. Your knuckles jump up his arm as you get comfortable. "Jus' shove me."

He closes his eyes. The dark of his eyelids is usually a torment, but with you this close it lulls him quickly and without finesse. "I'm not gonna shove you," he says while he still can.

He's on the precipice of sleep when your hand slides up his bicep. You feel along the soft ridging of his muscles until your fingers slot between his arm and his chest, and your nose is kissing his shoulder. It's as if the moonlight has heat and it's bearing down on him through the dirty windows as every stressed ligament, every tensed tissue in his sore body finally gives in to rest.

When he wakes, he's missed his morning shift start. You're clinging to him like you said you would, harder than he'd think possible considering your unconsciousness, with your lips pressed to his shoulder. He thinks it might leave a bruise.

He dips his face toward yours until the tip of his nose nudges your forehead and goes back to sleep.

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pinkmirth · 1 year

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I think we need some headcanons of cowboy Reiner

— ( save a horse, ride a cowboy! )

༉‧₊˚. — synopsis: just a cluster of fluffy and smutty headcanons for none other than the love of my life, cowboy reiner!

༉‧₊˚. — contains: (2k words of…) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader, (black coded), fluff, nsfw/smut, modern au, southern setting, established relationship (married), fantasies of having a child, breeding kink (‘cause this is reiner we’re talking about duh!), mentions of pregnancy, bondage kink, oral (m!receiving/blowjob), cowgirl position, doggy-style, creampie, reiner calls himself “daddy”, use of the petnames (mama, sugar, darling, honey, cowgirl), reiner calls you “woman” once, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

༉‧₊˚. — mira’s note: oh absolutely, nonnie! here are some thoughts I have on cowboy rei-rei 💕 (check masterlist for other reiner fics!)

this man is always covered head-to-toe in classic cowboy attire— embroidered cowboy boots, blue denim jeans with a lasso hanging from his belt loop, and a trusty old cowboy hat. he’s got the whole getup, and he looks even sexier in it every time you see him! though, his best look by far is the shirtless one. it’s the highlight of your day when whenever it gets too warm outside, because he’s soon to peel off his top. from across the farm, he can feel your eyes burning into his lightly-tanned skin as he does the most mundane chores. his muscles tense and flex with every move, pecs gleaming with sweat. he shoots you a smirk, folding his arms across his bare chest. “y’like what ya see, honey?” you pray the weather’s even hotter tomorrow.

it warms his heart whenever you come around to watch him do his daily chores around the farm. your presence motivates him to work harder, so he can continue to provide for you and sustain your comfortable lifestyle. you try not to be too much of a distraction, but you can’t help wanting to be closer to your husband; so you tug at his leather belt and pull him in for a kiss. that gets him giddy like nothing else. “ya know how much i love it when y’do that… gimme another,” he puckers his lips, and you giggle. “i don’t wanna keep you sidetracked for too long, rei. you were busy before i got here,” you caress his stubbled cheek and he pouts in response, leaning forward to receive another pillowy kiss. “jus’ one more, mama.”

cowboy reiner loves to cook and bake! he often goes on farmer’s market dates with you, walking hand in hand as you help him pick out the freshest ingredients and spices. you chat and laugh amongst one another, dropping carrots and apples into the hand-woven basket that reiner made for you. after arriving back home, he allows you to relax in yours and his shared bedroom while he whips together a hearty southern meal for the two of you. he shouts from across the house, adorned in nothing but a short pair of checkered boxers and a flimsy apron, “supper’s ready, darlin’! come on down ‘n eat!”

he’s great with animals! reiner cradles an adorable month-old horse in his strong arms, feeding milk to the baby with a soft smile. it’s just about the sweetest thing you could ever see! all the little foals follow him around the ranch because they love papa reiner just as much as you do <3 he’s built something of a connection between himself and his beloved herd, which is why he’s able to bring the horses over to their stables with no hassle whatsoever. this man could practically be a veterinarian with all the animal knowledge he has!

he’s a locally known rodeo champion! reiner wins the prize for longest bull-riding every single year. he should allow someone else a fighting chance, at least 😭 but he’s just effortlessly good at anything he puts his mind to! he skillfully rides the beast with such ease, leaving the crowd in awe. courtesy of his natural-born strength, he hardly ever gets tossed off. reiner’s got medals galore hanging on his wall from every competition.

as a southern man, he’s very family-oriented. his loved ones are of the utmost importance to him, and he’ll always put family first before anything else. he utterly adores you, and can’t wait to start a tiny lil family of his own with you <3 when I tell you this man cannot wait to be a papa, I mean it! there’s no denying that reiner would be an amazing father, considering that he’s so caring and attentive. he knows the best tickle spots to target, and the silliest faces to make to get a child cracking up (both of which he discovered through spending lots of time with gabi when she was small.) he constantly daydreams about dressing up his little one in tiny boots and overalls and carrying them up on his shoulders. (yes, I’m pushing the daddy rei-rei agenda on this fine weekend!)

cowboy reiner has manners like none other— the epitome of a true gentleman! he’s a great listener, is always so patient, opens doors for you, pays for your things without hesitation, gives frequent massages, carries you when you begin to feel tired; the list goes on! he’s just so kind and selfless, and never fails to show it. cowboy rei-rei is truly the perfect husband. “your feet hurt? well c’mere, sugar. i’ll carry you. it ain’t too much for me, y’know i can handle ya! jus’ hold onto me. i gotcha, okay?”

cowboy reiner is a grown man who can wholly appreciate your body and every striking detail about it. he scrutinizes the small dotted beauty marks scattered across your skin, your cutely patterned stretch marks, the curves and crevices of your soft tummy and thighs, and he fucking loves it all. makes it a habit to kiss up and down your body, just to give you a well-needed confidence boost. this man right here surely knows how to make a woman feel special! “listen t’me— you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, y’know that?”

(nsfw) — reiner loves when you treat him to a surprise blowie during work. he’s up to the usual, arranging things around the barn and tending to the animals. you then make your entrance, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind. your plump lips curve into a sensual smile as you ask him, “can I steal you for a moment, baby? it won’t be for too long, I swear it.” in an instant, he's allowing you to pull him away from his duties, unknowing of where you’re taking him, but also uncaring because he’d allow you to do whatever you please. he follows you with the goofiest smile plastered on his charming face, because he knows that he’s about to receive the most knee-buckling blowjob of his entire goddamn life. you bring him into the hayloft, pushing him against the red-painted wall until he’s flat against it. you drop to your knees and bring his jeans down with you. “fuck, darlin’… kiss the tip ‘fa me.” he moans lowly. you do as he wishes, suckling on his cockhead with the most beautiful, glistening eyes. you’re so eager to please, and it makes him throb on your tongue. with a hand at the back of your head, he guides you further onto him until you’ve swallowed the entirety of his fat dick. reiner ruts his hips, fucking into your wet mouth. you always know just how to make him feel so good, so loved. he adores you like nothing else. “oh, that’s it, honey, right there… atta girl.”

(nsfw) — the bondage kink on this man is insane, I tell you! cowboy reiner loves to keep your hands tied behind your back and watch you squirm against the rope. “rei,” in a breathless whine, his name falls from your plush lips. you wiggle your ass in the air for him, anticipating his next move. he takes you from the back, raw-dogging your pussy with a merciless pace. you truly wonder where he gets all this unparalleled energy to drill you into the bed, especially considering all the hard work he puts into maintaining the farm every day. one large hand of his stays planted on your waist, hastily grabbing, while the other holds onto your tied hands for leverage. he delivers harsh, deep-reaching thrusts, with his firm hips sharply smacking against you from behind. your wrists struggle against the rope, and he can tell just how desperate you are to touch him. his gaze is fixated on your soft body; every jiggle of your ass and ripple of your thighs is more hypnotizing than the last. you mewl for him, stuttering out something along the lines of ‘t—too much!’ … reiner leans down until his chest grazes the arch of your back, so that he can say, “quit alla-that whinin’, woman.” he clicks his teeth, flooding your ears with that sexy southern drawl of his. “y’can take it all, you’ve done it before.”

(nsfw) — we all know it, the entire goddamn fandom knows it: cowboy reiner has a massive fucking breeding kink! he wants nothing more than to get you pregnant by stuffing your pliant womb with his thick loads of cum. giving you a creampie makes him go completely wild; he watches his seed drip down your slit with hitched breath. a sight such as that is enough to get him hard all over again. the lust takes over, and he’s thinking with his dick for the next three rounds. plowing into you and rubbing at your puffed clit with calloused fingertips, reiner asks, “want me to come inside you? hm?” he gently holds onto your chin, directing your gaze to him. you dazedly look at your husband, pulsing around his thick cock. seeing how fucked-out you are makes his chest swell with the utmost pride. his greatest achievement is being able to please you. “tell me how bad y’fuckin’ want it, baby.” he rasps. your pleading moans urge him to release for you. his warm, pearly arousal seeps into you for the nth time that night. all he wants is to fill you up until you’re walking funny, with your leg shaking from all the stimulation. or, at least until that little stick comes out positive one day. having you grow plump with his child is his ultimate fantasy. “you’d look so stunnin’ as a mama, carryin’ my baby… don’t’cha think so, sugar?”

(nsfw) — reiner likes to let you wear his cowboy hat while you ride him. mounting onto your husband with your legs on either side of his hips, you straddle him. your dainty hands are planted on his broad chest for balance. he pulls off his iconic hat, hair cutely tousled from wearing it all day, before sitting up to place it on your head. “since you’ll be the one ridin’ tonight. giddyup, cowgirl.” he teases with a slick grin. you tip the hat with a breathy laugh before sinking down on his fat dick, maintaining sharp eye contact with him as your throbbing cunt takes him in little by little, until your clit’s grounded and snug against the dark-blonde tufts of his happy trail. his warm palms rub along your body as you swivel your hips, slamming down on all nine girthy inches that he has to offer. he watches your tits bounce, one manicured hand of yours squeezing at your left boob while the other holds onto his hat that rests upon the crown of your head. you rock back and forth with fervor, and he swears he can feel every spongy ridge of your contracting pussy. he throws his head back onto the pillows and gazes at you with the prettiest set of honey-golden eyes, hooded and lust-blown. gravelly moans fall past his agape lips as he spurs you on, giving your ass a thorough smack, “bounce on it, jus’ like that— yeah, fuck daddy’s cock.”

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randomfoggytiger · 4 months

Text

Kitchener Essences: David Duchovny

Already tackled Gillian Anderson's essence here, so, it's David's turn!

John Kitchener, like Kibbe, created his system on top of the yin-yang methodology other stylists were constructing in the early 20th century. Yet instead of focusing on the body's structure as a whole (Kibbe's method), Kitchener zeroed in on the face: particularly, its holistic expression.

ESSENCES AND THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY

(Credit to: Ellie-Jean Royden)

I'd previously written a post about the Feminine vs. Masculine balance in David Duchovny's face (post here); but found, as I was working on this project, that that method and the Kitchener method overlap each other. Both assess the yin (soft, rounded, curved lines) and yang (sharp, narrow or blunt, chiseled lines) of a person's face; and draw up a general impression others would have of them at a neutral first glance.

These tools may not appeal to everyone; but boy do they work hand and glove in the entertainment industry. Actors can disguise their natural essence in a role by embodying another person; can tone down their masculine vs. feminine balance with hair, makeup, and styling; and can lean into their natural aura for promotion and marketing. Of course, there is some degree of typecasting-- it would be harder (or impossible) for a person with Gamine Essence (smaller facial features with dynamic odds and ends) to pull off an Ethereal Essence (long, sleek, elongated, elegant lines) than it would for an Ethereal to pull off a Dramatic Essence (as Cate Blanchett did for Thor: Ragnarök.) This system also effectually proves Kibbe's warning: one cannot evaluate a person's Kibbe body type by the face alone-- Ingenue Leonardo DiCaprio and Classic (if I recall) Colin Firth are both Romantics, after all. Similarly, 5'2" Kibbe Theatrical Romantic Gillian Anderson and 5'10" Kibbe Dramatic Tilda Swinton share a striking Ethereal Essence.

**Note**: If you don't care to ingest the full post, skip straight to the DAVID DUCHOVNY header for his analysis.

DECODING KITCHENER ESSENCES FOR MEN

As per my first Essence post, I will be including transcripts and screenshots from Ellie-Jean Royden's video on the topic (here). Also, highly recommend Gabriella Arruda, who has a more practical, everyday wear approach to the Essences (as well as excellent videos combining them with the Kibbe Body Types-- my posts on GA's and DD's Kibbe here and here, respectively-- and seasonal color analysis.)

Dramatic

The Most Yang Dominant (strong features)-- sharp, narrow, long, hard. Defined by: danger, wildness, boldness, theatrical, dark, extravagant, intense, dignified. Dramatic faces tend to have three or more elongated and “hard” traits: high and dominant cheekbones, long faces, sharp jawlines, sharp noses, slightly narrow eyes, narrow lips.

Dramatics look best in sharp, tailored clothes; in bold, extravagant, theatrical styles; …in unconventional or unusual patterns; in asymmetry or straight lines; …in unusual textures or dangerous styles (leather, for example.)

Natural

Yang Dominant (strong features)-- blunt, wide, broad, and elongated…instead of elongated, sharp, harsh (you might see men with Dramatic Essence as the villain in a movie… Natural Essence tends to be… the hero of the film.) Defined by: relaxed, earthy, sporty, active, wild, easygoing, approachable, rugged (...chopping a tree down or hacking a block of wood ready for a fire.)

They look best in simple, comfortable, relaxed clothes. They tend to look formal in the most casual and simple styles; whereas… in a suit, they tend to look quite constrained…. Jeans and a t-shirt… don’t look casual or sloppy… looks like it belongs…. Look good in loose fitting; sturdy, oversized sort of styles. Anything with unstructured shapes, layering, or denim.

Gamine

Yang Dominant (strong features)-- sharp or angular features, with some youthful elements (large and soft eyes, or slightly wide and soft noses, or slightly rounded cheekbones with a sharp jaw and narrow eyes.) Defined by: quirky, rebellious, whimsical, youthful (but not as youthful as Ingenue Essence), boyish, playful, fun. Like a Dramatic in some ways… with a youthful undercurrent to them.

They look really good when poking fun at fashion. They look good in mix-n-match or retro styles. They look good in bold colors or unusual patterns. High contrast; quite cool in rolled up jeans or “teenager” hoodies. They look good in lots of detail and compact styles and maybe some whimsical elements.

Classic

Neither Yang nor Yin Dominant (symmetrically balanced features)-- in the middle, not particularly sharp or soft; timeless, neutral features (no defining characteristic features.) Defined by: clean, timeless, elegant, sophisticated, formal, conservative.

They look best in minimal details, allowing their own beauty to shine through. They look good in smooth and controlled lines. They become more memorable as everything else is "stripped" away. They look good in timeless looks-- it doesn't look boring or outdated; tends to look very elegant and chic. You could even describe them as looking regal... in these styles. They look good in symmetry, balance, neutral colors, and quality fabrics.

Romantic

Yin Dominant (soft features)-- soft, round facial features; smouldering eyes; lush lips; slightly narrow jaws; round cheeks or slightly wide noses; often have dark hair and high contrast (like Dramatics, except with shorter, softer lines.) Defined by: sensual, alluring, lush, romantic.

They look good in soft, lush fabrics (like velvet.) Look best in bowties over long ties. They might look good in something a little undone, looser fabrics, softer fabrics. In red or lush colors. In large, rounded patterns. Jewels or jewel tones.

Ingenue

Yin Dominant (soft features)-- baby-like faces (lots of Hollywood male heartthrobs are Ingenues, ex. Leo DiCaprio); small, slightly wide noses; rounder eyes; round cheekbones; plump but smallish lips; rounded and shorter faces. Defined by: sweet looking, innocent, gentle, delicate, adorable, youthful (less “boudoir” than Romantics in the same styles.)

They look best in delicate and small details. Whimsical styles; in anything vintage; in pastel or pale colors; in decorative styles like small floral prints or things that hark back to another era. They look really good in ornate, intricate sort of things. And of course, with soft, delicate fabrics. These men look much better in a bow tie than in a long tie because this mimics their short, rounded facial features.

Ethereal

The Most Yin Dominant (soft features)-- a meeting between yin and yang features. They have elongated faces; some sharp facial features like cheekbones or high foreheads, but with rounded or slightly wide set eyes or soft lips. (Not blending their yin and yang together like Classic, or contrasting it like Gamines.) Defined by: pure, wise, timeless, otherworldly, ageless, old souls, uncanny, celestial (tend to be cast in fantasy roles.)

They look really good in metallics; soft, lightweight, fluttery fabrics; vintage or period pieces with… fantastical, ornate, intricate elements. Too many overdone details tips into caricature; instead, they could opt for gray instead of black, or create a long visual line down with their hair.

DAVID DUCHOVNY

Let's start from the top: discovering what are David's worst essences.

What David Isn't

Dramatic

Dramatic is the worst Essence for DD, turning his flare for the "out there" into costume and caricature, wearing him instead of the other way 'round. As such, he often hams up his poses or expressions to better match the energy of the shot, transforming it from avant-garde fashion to tongue-in-cheek performance art.

Gamine

David is drawn to pizzazz, to bold colors, to unique styles. There's a part of his nature that responds to it-- which is easy to see why, when we explore his primary Essence. However: he walks right by the most flattering option to snatch up the second worst.

He's a handsome man, no doubt... but even his looks can't save him from the consequences of his dilapidated fashion sense. Youthful vibes very well with David; but he jumps upon an "aha!" too vigorously, overdoing it with more and more funky, punky, spiky, mismatchy elements. Not even his Kibbe can save him: if he'd been Romantic or Gamine instead of Soft Natural, his shorter bones might have been able to more effectively cover up the disjointed effect.

The bottom rows can be salvageable, as his hairstyle would be dependent on what outfit he wore with it. But even at face value, there's something off about too much tousle either way. The bland-for-him Classic Essence shirt in the last picture doesn't help matters.

Classic

Classic is not the worst on David; but it's not the best, either.

Minimal detail on David tends to wash out his unique charm, burying it under too much finish or polish. The suit in the first picture appears to have been purposefully bought a size up in an attempt to "soften" the silhouette on DD (without success); and the second is too pinched and narrow in the shoulders and too widening and tailored at the hips (a typical Classic silhouette composed of equal parts yin and yang.) The two gray shirts, however, are better: they fit the lines of his body (Kibbe), are Medium Value gray (an aspect of his seasonal color analysis), and are better accessorized with tiny details (buttons and pockets.) Steps in the right direction, but not a complete victory.

Romantic

David's styling and poses are overtly sexual here; but the result is more akin to off-the-clock lounging than reach-into-your-heart-through-your-eyes-and-consume-your-soul sensuality. Put more concisely, his sexy isn't boudoir or bodice ripper.

The top pose is the most off-kilter; but the second row's pictures are all salvageable. David's neutral expression in the first pic changes the effect into steamy relaxation; his pose and delicate elements in the second turns the shot into something fresh and almost soulful; and his luxuriously soft hair and pajamas in the third reads as one clean, complete look. The last two particularly are mixed with his primary and secondary Essences.

What David Is

Natural

Maybe. Not discounting the possibility.

It wouldn't be a surprise: David is a Kibbe Soft Natural; and there is definite overlap between its lines and Kitchener's Essence. However: David can only handle teeny tiny amounts of it. Too much and he looks like a clean-shaven homeless man wearing the wealthy neighborhood's overpriced hand-me-downs instead of his old, gunky, raggedy hoodie. That, or a struggling artist.

The top left look is salvageable: his glasses are a complimentarily small detail, his sleeves are rolled up above the wrists, his hair isn't too wild or unkempt, and his pants aren't visible in the shot. Not the best, but definitely not the worst.

Ethereal

The gray shirt's back! That's because, despite the intent of the shot, the end result is an Ethereal Essence come to life: long, luxurious, draping silhouette; lower contrast grey instead of a harsher, richer color like black; and shadowy, "otherworldly" set dressing.

David's first two looks are from the same photoshoot. The metallic sheen in his suit and Ethereal graphic on his shirt turn this look from a classic silhouette into a statement piece, one that perfectly accords with David's blink-and-you'll-miss-it expression and understated-overstated drama.

However: it's not his best Essence: lines that are too flowy or too long or too "flyaway" jar slightly with his persona-- not quite messy, but not quite right.

Ingenue

David's best Essence is Ingenue-- and no wonder. Even early on his career, fans were calling him a puppy and wanting to take care of him.

His sensuality is expressed by irrepressible innocence, that element of childishness he misinterprets as Gamine's boyishly spunky, eternally youthful spark. With that in mind, he should focus on softer details instead-- not replacing his funky inclinations so much as tempering them. Funk on a smaller, scale: delicate ornateness instead of jagged edges and opposing prints; repeatable patterns instead of differing styles mashed together. David should also lean into buttons, comfy textured fabrics, and bowties to match the tiny, repeated curves in his face.

COMPARING OTHER SOFT NATURAL ESSENCES

Let's test out his Ingenue Essence.

How shall we do that? By comparing him to other men that share his same Kibbe Soft Natural body type.

Dramatic Essence: None

I don't have a Dramatic SN to compare; but i think we can all conclude that this Essence doesn't scream 'David Duchovny.'

Natural Essence: Brad Pitt and Robert Redford

Brad and Robert are put together and at ease in differing levels of "dishevelment." David, though more "himself", does not (even with the same level of tailoring and styling care in the first photo as Brad.)

Gamine Essence: Gene Kelly

Gene comes alive in bold, expressive, potentially clashing elements. David, however, looks mismatched and uncomfortable.

Classic Essence: John Wayne

While John shines with minimal detail, David becomes flat.

Romantic Essence: George Clooney

Here we can see George's effortless romanticism and David's endearing Ingenue charm radiating from their pores.

Ingenue Essence: Bing Crosby

With both of their hair slicked up and back, it's too easy to spot the shared tiny, delicate aspects dominating Bing's and David's face. Bing's bowtie and David's small-scale tie further accentuate these features, as do their softer profiles and lower contrast.

Ethereal Essence: None

Again, I was unable to find a Kibbe approved Soft Natural that fit the Ethereal requirements. However, I did find DD in an Ethereal shirt and studio set; so, let us gaze upon it, note it works but not fully, and move along.

COMPARING TWO INGENUE ESSENCES

To further prove the Ingenue theory, we can compare him against Kibbe Romantic Elijah Wood's Ingenue Essence. Both have smaller scale facial features, softer lines, and softer silhouettes. They are also complimented very naturally by smaller scale accessories, smaller scale repeating patterns, smaller scale soft tailoring, and smaller scale bowties (compared to their regular ones.) These touches tap into and bring out their "cute" undercurrent easily and effectively.

ALL TOGETHER

CONCLUSION

Ingenue-Ethereal, perhaps Ingenue-Ethereal-Natural. Not bad!

It makes sense why he and Gillian sold The X-Files: the softened bluntness of his Kibbe created a striking visual contrast against her narrow, sharp Kibbe while their close percentages of Ethereal Essence knit those differences back together in an otherworldly, mythical pursuit of the truth (be it men, monsters, or insane work hours.)

Meanwhile, David is drawn to characteristic detail, unfortunately expressing that dynamic essence through Gamine rather than its perfect twin Ingenue. Furthermore, his love of long, less-restrictive lines is also misplaced in the Natural Essence, whereas it would be right at home in the equally less restrictive but also softer and sleeker Ethereal Essence.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #but not #randomfashiontiger #DD #David Duchovny #Kitchener Essence #John Kitchener #mine #analysis

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thatgayb1tchwhosimps4her · 1 year

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HEY PEOPLE!!! THIS IS THE OFFICIAL 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!!!

And in commemoration of that, I (with the help of talking to @lotties-ashwagandha) have created this fic, please enjoy.

Summary: Basically just reader (18/19) being new to Lottie's wellness centre and having a pre-made bond with her, and sort of one with Nat (since she gets inducted into it a few weeks after r), then the rest of the adults arrive and things get interesting...

This is a bit of a long-en and it took fucking forever, and it feels a little rushed, but oh well, enjoy :)

@zhivaxo

*****

Eat Your Young

❤️🧡💚💜💙💛

Adult YellowJacket's x Late Teen!GN/AFAB Reader

❤️🧡💚💜💙💛

Word Count: 3152.

I may have gotten a little carried away w/ this, but I just love them all sm, and istg if this flops I will cry cause I actually love this sm.

Also he/him and transmasc Van and Nat, cause I love them 😁.

*****

You'd arrived at the compound about a couple of months ago, after Lottie had spotted you being dragged around at a farmers market in downtown New York she was also at, by your asshole of a father who insisted upon showing you the exact and only crafted beer he liked and drank (nothing of which ever ended well when he drank it).

Of course, after noticing what was actually going on by the way he acted toward you, she insisted upon taking you away from him to the compound, and to also help you cope with your past trauma, once she got to speak with you alone. At first to which you denied, unsure of what would happen and if your father would find you if accepted.

Eventually, she got you to accept, god damn those pleading brown eyes of hers. Which was how you ended up here, Camp Green Pine (it was actually really pretty now that you thought about it), or Lottie's cult, as Nat had referred to it on multiple occasions, which you found rather assuming, of which you'd never admit to Lottie.

The same 'here' that one of Lottie and Nat's old friends, Misty, turned up at about a week after Nat first got here, with somebody else, Waldo you recalled his name being, or Walter. The two of them later on being joined by some of their other friends, later of which, you learned their names, Tai, Van and Shauna.

More specifically, the 'here' that was known as the sharing shack, having been trying to track Lottie down for the last hour, having gotten lost at least a couple times, wanting to review one of your sessions for the week, unsure of what it meant. All of which was soon forgotten when you stumbled upon her and her old friends in said sharing shack, the previous conversation dying down pretty quickly upon your entry.

"Hi, sorry I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to borrow Charlotte for a minute, go over this one part of my schedule for this week. I can go though if this is a bad time." You stated, stumbling over your own words, not wanting to make a bad first impression on the other 4.

"Of course not, my love, come sit." Lottie answered, patting the seat to her left, between her and Natalie.

"Okay," You answered, nervously walking over to and taking your seat next to the two of them, dressed in an oversized heliotrope jumper, light blue denim jeans and black converse, before handing her the piece of paper, as she inspected it.

Watching on as the others exchanged slightly awkward glances, flashing them small smiles as some sort of piece offering, to which none of them acknowledged, except the blonde that was sitting next to Nat, who offered a small wave back, which you replied with a small nod, moving slightly closer to Lottie, feeling Nat's hand rest on the small of your back as some form of comfort you were guessing.

"Yeah don't worry about it, it's just like the group therapy you sat in on Monday morning, except more of how to cope with specific issues, rather then sharing experiences and stuff, since I know that's a tough thing for you to do." Lottie spoke, turning back to and smiling sweetly at you and handing you back your schedule, to which you folded up and slid into your back pocket.

"Oh okay, that uh makes sense, thank you." You replied, still feeling the rest of the groups gaze on you, taking this as your cue to get up and leave, as you went to do so you felt Nat tug on the bottom of your jumper.

"Um, excuse you." You stated, not wanting to cause a scene.

"What, you want me to do everything here?" Nat said, turning to Lottie, then the rest of the group.

"Listen dove," Lottie started, taking your hand and guiding you to sit back down, "I hope you don't mind, but I've been talking to the group about you tonight, along with some of your past........ issues." The brunette added, moving her hand to rest on your thigh as you gulped.

You weren't sure how to take this. 'What past issues did she mean?' Were they the ones you cried to her over? No, she wouldn't, would she? More importantly, why would she?'

"Oh, okay," You spoke, unsure of where this conversation headed. "What issues were you talking about?"

"Well uh, just some of the general stuff, since some of them," She shot a look at Tai and Van, who were quick to look down at the floor, a slight blush prominent on their cheeks. "had questions about you, and wanted to know some things about you." Lottie explained, running her thumb over the plush part of your inner thigh, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

"What, like how old I am, see if any of my past traumas match up with yours?" You retorted jokingly, smirking slightly, the room falling slightly tense as you were fully understanding the manor of their previous conversation.

The room went quiet, before the curly blonde, Misty, stood up and walked over to you, crouching in front of you.

"We just wanna help you, my love." The woman said, resting a hand on your knee, the other intertwining with your own hand, lifting it to her lips, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand softly, looking up at you sincerely. 'She seems nice' you thought to yourself, as you blushed softly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Misty's right, darling." Nat spoke, his hand still resting and rubbing up and down your lower back.

"What you went through with your dad. What he did to you, to try and change you and stuff, honestly I-," He cut himself off sensing the change in your body language at the sensitive subject, your gaze going from looking at her to down at your lap, fiddling with your hands, before speaking up again. "Look, we just wanna help, in anyway we can."

"Mhm." The rest of them agreed, as the other brunette, Shauna, suddenly appeared behind you, essentially boxing you in between her, Nat, Misty and Lottie.

"Will you let us help you out, sweetheart?" Shauna asked, smoothing her hands over your shoulders.

"O-okay," You replied, removing your gaze from your lap to glance up at her, before looking back at the group. "I don't know how, but you can, all of you can, help, I mean." You added, slightly flustered, as the brunette behind you shared a knowing look with the rest of the group, causing Nat to take your other hand, him and Misty standing you up and leading you back to Lottie's quarters, Shauna and Lottie following behind, Tai and Van following after them.

A million questions were running through your mind as you were lead toward Lottie's bedroom, like 'Was what you thought was gonna happen actually about to happen? Was this some sort of fever dream?'.

All of which were quickly forgotten when you arrived at Lottie's, Nat's hands quickly moving to your jumper, slipping them under it and pulling it over your head, discarding it on the floor, while Van came around your back and started kissing along your neck slowly, and the rest of the group were ridding themselves of their shoes and clothes.

"They look so pretty for us, right guys?" Van stated, littering your jaw with soft kisses. "Is that okay to say?" He added, to which you replied with a nod.

"Damn right they are." Nat answered, everybody else agreeing in some way, her hands going down to your belt, unbuckling it before unzipping your jeans, discarding both of them on the growing pile of clothes on the floor, leaving you in your binder and boxer shorts and everyone in the room, except Nat and Van, in just their underwear.

"It's alright," Lottie stated, approaching you in her matching set of dark purple lingerie, as the other two pulled away from you to sort their clothes out, "just trust us, okay? We'll take care of you" She added, smoothing her thumbs over your ribs and planted a soft kiss on your forehead, sensing your anxiousness.

You nodded in response, feeling Shauna and Misty come up behind you, the brunette starting to plant kisses along your right shoulder, while the blonde did the same to your left, running her hands over the bottom of your binder, as they led you back onto Lottie's bed, pushing you down onto it lightly as your legs hit the end of it, before climbing onto it to sit either side of you and start attacking your face and neck with long, heated kisses.

Lottie then came over to you with Tai, kneeling on the hardwood floors of her cabin between your thighs, as Tai came and sat on the bed running her fingers over your stomach and up your chest, making more warmth pool into your lower abdomen while Shauna and Misty continued kissing along your shoulders and up and down either side of your neck and jawline.

"Is it okay if I take this off, baby?" Tai questioned, resting her hands at the hem of your binder.

"Mhm," You answered, nodding slowly, slightly apprehensive to let it happen, "You can take it off." You added, lifting your arms up slightly to assist with her taking your binder, straightening it out and placing it on the floor with a light thud.

Misty and Shauna moved their mouths over your shoulders, sucking hickeys over them and along your jaw and neck softly, making you moan slightly, as Lottie moved her hands further up your thighs to your boxers, looking up at you and then back down at your briefs, wordlessly communicating with you as you nodded at her, then pulling them down a little, letting her do the rest as Van came over, and sat next to you, between Tai and Misty, and started to run her hand over the side of your chest.

After a little while of Misty and Shauna continuing to kiss along either side of your neck and shoulders, while Lottie finished pulling your boxers down to your ankles, running her fingers along your slit, starting to run her thumb over your clit, making you whine slightly.

"Sh sh sh, it's okay baby. Just trust me, alright? It'll be worth it." The brunette stated, before leaning down and pressing a kiss against it, making you moan softly.

Once Lottie started working her mouth against your clit, Van took this opportunity to use his newfound confidence to lean forward and rest his hand on your boob, squishing and kneading it slightly and giggling softly.

"Wow, seriously, are you still 12?" Tai spoke, watching this exchange.

"What?! They're good boobs, okay? Sue me." Van spoke, defending his actions, with a slight scowl before his expression dropped and he spoke again. "Oh wait, fuck, that's okay to say, right?" He added.

"It's fine Van, honestly, don't worry about it. This seriously feels like a fever dream, I'm really not that bothered what you call me as long as you don't call me a girl or a boy" You replied, giggling slightly yourself, to which Van replied with a nod, going back to squishing both your boobs while Lottie started working her mouth on your clit swirling her tongue around it, eliciting strings of moans from your mouth.

"Such pretty noises, baby." Tai stated, leaning forward and kissing you softly, before taking your bottom lip between her teeth, biting and sucking on it softly, before reaching down, resting the back of her palm on Lottie's chin and pushing to fingers inside you, forcing another moan out of you.

'God this is pure bliss' you thought.

Lottie working her mouth on your clit, while Misty and Shauna were pressing theirs against your neck and jaw line and down your shoulders over and over

Van was kneading hos hand over your boob, while Tai was pressing hers against Lottie's chin while working her fingers inside you, and Nat, Nat was god knows where, but you didn't think of that too much right now.

All you were focused on was the warm feeling that was flowing in your lower abdomen, and feeling every bit of their combined touch that was gliding over your body.

"Oh pretty baby, you that close already?" Tai piped up, feeling you start to clench around her fingers, looking up at you and seeing you bite your lip. "Tsk tsk tsk tsk." She muttered under her breath, starting to curl her fingers inside you slightly faster.

"I- ah, I'm- fuck, I'm sorry. I can try and wait, I didn't mean to- god. I can try, I can-" You stuttered out, being cut off by Misty pressing her finger over your mouth.

"Sh sh sh, it's okay. It's more then okay, that's exactly what we wanted. It's okay" The blonde reassure, pressing a kiss against your jaw.

"I- are you, are you sure?" You asked, tilting your head back slightly.

"Mhm," Shauna reassured, running her hand over your shoulder. "It's okay, just let go, alright sweetheart?"

You looked down at Lottie, who was still working her mouth on your clit, for some sort of reassurance or confirmation.

"It's okay," Lottie stated, glancing up at you, running her thumb over your thigh, while trailing her tongue over your clit. "Just wait a little longer, alright? Can you do that for mommy?"

"Momm- I- fuck, mommy please, I can't-." You begged, tilting your head back against Misty's shoulder, moaning and panting softly, getting closer.

"Okay, okay, it's okay. Just take your time." Tai said, glancing down at Lottie, while still working her fingers inside you, feeling you clench a little more.

"Fuck- mommy! I'm gonna cum, please please please please." You begged a little more.

"Okay baby, you got it. Cum for us, darling." Lottie stated, just before you fell over the edge with a long, loud moan.

Cumming all over Tai's fingers and Lottie's mouth, dripping down her chin, while bucking your hips up against her mouth, riding out your orgasm.

"God, you're so pretty, baby." Van spoke up, leaning in and kissing along your neck, still kneading his hands over your boobs.

"Fuck-" You rasped out after a few moments, tilting your head back against Shauna's shoulder, looking up at her and Misty.

"God, you did so well for us." Shauna said, softly pressing her lips against yours.

"Damn right they did." Nat stated, speaking up for the first time in a while, approaching you and the rest of the group.

Straps secured around his thighs over his boxers, light blue dildo attached to it, making you gulp softly, as you lifted your head up from it's place on Shauna's shoulder.

"It's okay." Lottie assured, as she rose from her place on the floor to kneel between you and Shauna, mirroring Van's position. "Can you look at me, dove?" She added, running her thumb over your chin.

"There's my pretty little baby." The brunette said, running her thumb over your cheek as you tilted your head toward her. "Now listen okay? Natalie's gonna take good care of you, alright baby? And I'll be here the whole time." She added, lacing her fingers with yours to hold your hand gently.

"O-okay," You stated, nodding your head slowly. "Okay." You said again, turning your head toward Nat, who had his tilted to the side, rested her hand on the underside of the strap, jerking it off slightly.

God he looked so hot. Already with sweat clinging to his face, and a small smirk on his lips, and the abs.

"There you go." Nat said, slipping his strap inside you while these thoughts were clouding your mind, making you groan loudly.

"Fuck, Natalie." You moaned out softly, as he pressed his hands down against your hips and start hammering into you, not giving you enough time to adjust. Making the rest of them smirk slightly at how loud you were being, and how gorgeous you looked.

"Oh sweet baby, you sound so good for us. So good for Natalie." Tai stated, starting to run her thumb over your clit, still sensitive from Lottie working her mouth on it earlier.

"Such an eager little love for daddy's cock, hmmm Y/n/n?" Nat said, thrusting his hips slightly harder against yours.

"Fuck, god, yes. Daddy please, I need it so bad." You begged, gripping Lottie's hand tightly, as Tai kept rubbing her thumb over your clit.

That with the help of Nat, who kept hammering himself inside you, had you hurtling toward another orgasm so soon.

"You look so gorgeous all fucked out for Natalie, Y/n." Misty giggled, pressing kisses along the left side of your jaw and down your neck, while Van kept kneading his hands over your boobs, plucking your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"I think someone's close again." Shauna perked up, peering over your shoulder to look at Nat, before glancing down to watch your face contort and your mouth open and close, letting out breathy moans.

"No I- no I jus- fuck Natalie! I-" You stuttered out, being cut off by Lottie kissing you again.

"It's okay, love. We're not here to stop you, we're here to make you feel good and give you a treat, alright?" She said, pressing her lips against your cheek.

"Cmon baby," Van whispered against your cheek, still squishing his hand over your boob. "You can do it."

As soon as he said that, combined with the feeling of Nat still forcefully thrusting his strap into you, while grunting softly, and Tai rubbing circles around your clit quicker then before.

Along with the rest of them doing their own things, your senses became overwhelmed with pleasure for the second time that night, causing you to release and came hard over Nat's strap and Tai's hand, while moaning loudly.

As Nat fucked you through your orgasm, Shauna and Misty were still working their mouths along your neck and jaw (by now of which were probably covered in hickeys), and Van was still squishing and plucking your boobs with his fingers.

It wasn't until they helped you slowly ride out your high, that you slumped down against them, sweat dripping off your forehead while panting heavily, and that Nat slowly pulled out, tucking his strap back into his boxers, while he and the rest of the group watched you as you recovered from your climax, letting you return back to yourself.

Once your orgasm had fully subsided, Lottie leant up slightly and softly pressed her lips against yours. Speaking to you, as if only wanting you to hear. "Good job, baby, you did so good. The wilderness is pleased with you now. It's pleased with all of us."

*****

So for those of you still reading, if you didn't get it by now, this was a 100 follower special (yay me, though there is more then 100 of u guys by now but oh well), and I just wanted to hop on here for those that are still reading, I'm so grateful to every single one of you that have interacted with me/my posts over the last year.

I only got into writing fan fiction as an outlet for stuff going on in my personal life (cause life has sucked a lot for me, especially over the last year, but yk we deal), but to know people actually like my stuff is really awesome.

Love you guys lots (I should probably come up with a nickname at this point or something), here's to the next 100 and I hope you enjoyed this fic.

-Harlow

P.s This was fairly rushed at the end and this is defo garbage, but I just wanted to get this out.

And ignore the fact Nat disappeared mid way through this, I didn't know what to do with him, but yk we ball.

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amr-jayprakash · 1 year

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Denim is a fabric that is made of cotton. Denim was firstly used for making work cloths and then it gained significance as a material to be used for making others types of garments including shirts, jackets, and jeans. Product innovations with designs, patterns, colors, and fitting, rise in sense of fashion, and growing standard of living are some factors attributable to the growth of the denim jeans market during the forecast period. Social media and fashion influencers are major influencers for the fashion industry, which in turn boost the demand for denim jeans. Furthermore, rise in awareness regarding the availability of various types of denim jeans including skinny, tapered, regular, and athletic fit jeans through social media and e-commerce platforms are further anticipated to increase the denim jeans market size.

#Denim Jeans Market Size #Denim Jeans Market Share #Denim Jeans Market News #Denim Jeans Market Forecast #Denim Jeans Market Analysis #Denim Jeans Market Growth

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straykidzwifey · 8 months

Text

Unexpected Encounter

_______________________________________________

Pairing: Bang Chan X OC

Warnings: none

Summary: An unexpected encounter happens when Zena Allen runs into Felix a member of Stray Kids, her all time favorite Kpop group. He invites her to their concert later that night where she meet Bang Chan. Will there encounter spark a relationship or will she forever be just a fan.

Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Chapter 1: Grocery Store Encounters

Third Person POV —————————————————

With a heavy sigh, Felix pushed the squeaky shopping cart through the bustling aisles of the supermarket. His bandmates were waiting for him at the hotel, exhausted from their long flight to Texas for the end of their world tour. Despite his own fatigue and longing to relax and watch some Netflix, Felix had lost a game of straws and was now stuck doing this mundane chore. The bright lights and colorful displays of the market seemed to mock him as he begrudgingly tossed various snacks into the cart, each one representing another lost round in the game. A mix of scents wafted through the air - fresh fruits and vegetables mingled with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods. But all Felix could think about was getting this errand over with so he could finally join his bandmates and rest after their journey.

His eyes scanned the neatly organized shelves, searching for any signs of chips, cookies, and candy. The bright packaging and tempting aromas called out to him, promising a satisfying snack for his hungry band mates. He quickly tossed them into the cart, hoping it would be enough to satisfy their voracious appetites. Not wanting to forget about hydration, he also grabbed some water bottles and soda cans, knowing how important it was to stay refreshed. Glancing at his phone, he saw that he had a few precious minutes left before he had to head back home. With a sense of curiosity, he decided to take a leisurely stroll through the store, his eyes scanning for any interesting finds along the way.

As he rounded the corner, a familiar tune filled his ears from the store's speakers. It was one of their own songs, "God's Menu". A smile spread across his face as he hummed along, feeling a surge of pride and joy. Creating music with his friends brought him so much happiness and sharing it with others was even more rewarding. The upbeat melody filled the air, making Felix feel like he could conquer anything.

He walked past the frozen food section and saw two girls standing in front of the ice cream freezer. One of them was dancing and singing along to the song, her body moving fluidly to the beat with unbridled energy. Her outfit was a reflection of her unique spirit, with ripped jeans hugging her curves, a white tee accentuating her hourglass figure, a black zip up hoodie providing some warmth, a denim jacket adding edge, and black combat boots giving her an added sense of power. Her head was adorned with a baseball cap, its tan color complementing the two-toned hair that shone brightly under the artificial glow of the fluorescent lights. One half of her hair was black while the other was white, mirroring the duality of her unique style. Her hazel eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she belted out the lyrics.

The other girl stood next to her, shaking her head in amusement while rolling her eyes at the other girl's antics. She had a small smile on her face, unable to hold back her laughter as she watched her companion dance without a care in the world. Unlike her companion's bold fashion choices, this girl opted for simple comfort in a tan shirt and jeans, but she still managed to look effortlessly beautiful. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swayed gently as she moved. Blue eyes looked bemused and slightly annoyed at having been dragged along on this unwanted grocery trip.

Felix couldn't help but stare at them both, amused by their contrasting reactions to the music. It was moments like these that reminded him why he loved creating music with his friends. It brought joy and happiness to others, even in the most unexpected places. He wondered if these girls just recognized the song or knew who Stray Kids were, but it didn't matter. In that moment, all that mattered was the shared love for music and the connection it brought between strangers.

Felix couldn't resist the urge to join in on the fun dance party happening right in front of him. The girl moving gracefully to the beat caught his eye, her shoulder length hair bouncing with each step. She radiated a vibrant energy that drew him in. Felix found himself smiling at her enthusiasm, admiring her endearing and lively spirit. With determination, he parked his cart nearby and walked over to them, his friendly smile reaching his eyes.

"Hey there," he greeted, his deep Australian voice contrasting with his youthful appearance. "I love your moves! Mind if I join in?"

The dancing girl came to an abrupt stop, her feet faltering as her brain processed the sight in front of her. Her eyes scanned the person standing before her, widening in disbelief as she took in the tall, slender Korean man with a bleach blond mullet. His face was freckled, his warm brown eyes radiating with a smile that could brighten up anyone's day. It was none other than Felix from Stray Kids, someone she had long admired. And he was talking to her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, turning them a bright shade of red, and her heart thrummed wildly in her chest. As a die-hard fan of the group, Felix was one of her favorite members and seeing him in person was like a dream come true. She had posters of him plastered all over her walls and had watched every single one of his videos and interviews multiple times. Meeting him was something she had always dreamed of, but she never imagined it would happen like this.

"O-oh my gosh," she exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement and nerves. "You're Felix! From Stray Kids!" Her high-pitched voice contrasted with his deep one, but she couldn't help it. "I-I love you so much!" Her words spilled out in a rush, overflowing with adoration for the talented artist standing before her.

A flush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks and she quickly covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her outburst had been unexpected, and she couldn't help but feel a hint of panic at the thought of being judged as crazy or creepy. She shifted her gaze to her sister, whose expression was a mix of confusion and amusement. Oh, how she wished she could shrink herself and disappear into the cool depths of the freezer, away from the embarrassment.

Felix couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, finding it both flattering and amusing. He thought she was adorable and enjoyed her candidness. Extending his hand for a handshake, he introduced himself as if she didn't already know who he was. "Nice to meet you, I'm Felix," he said with a smile. "May I ask what your name is?"

With her heart racing, she stammered out her name as his warm hand enveloped hers. She could feel the strength in his grip as he gently held onto her. "Zena," she repeated, the sound of her name coming out in a breathless whisper. It was almost as if her name had taken on new meaning in that moment, tingling with electricity. "Zena Allen," she finished, the words sounding foreign and yet comforting at the same time.

Her name rolled off his tongue smoothly and made her cheeks flush with warmth. "You have both a lovely name and a stunning smile," he praised, causing her to blush even more. "And you have great taste in music, might I add."

A playful twinkle danced in his eyes, causing her to giggle nervously in response. Suddenly, his face lit up with an infectious grin that made it clear he had an idea brewing. He leaned in closer, his voice low and excited.

"Hey, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to join us at our concert tonight? I can pull a couple of strings and get you and your friend VIP tickets and backstage passes. You'll get to meet the entire band and spend the evening having some fun with us. What do you say?" His offer hung in the air, laced with excitement and anticipation.

A surge of excitement and disbelief coursed through Zena's body. She couldn't believe her ears - was he really inviting her to his concert? And not just any tickets, but VIP ones. It felt like a dream, and she was afraid to wake up from it. With wide eyes shining with gratitude, she nodded eagerly.

"Oh my gosh, yes! I would be honored to go!" Her voice rose in pitch with each "yes" until she was practically squealing. "Thank you so much, Felix! You truly are the best!" A sense of gratefulness and happiness washed over Zena as she thanked her newfound friend.

He couldn't resist being captivated by her authentic kindness and warmth. He was eager to discover more about her.

As he looked at Zena's companion, he noticed she had been observing them with a curious yet questioning look on her face.

He greeted her with a friendly wave and introduced himself. "Hi there, I'm Felix. And you are?" he asked politely.

"Zara," she replied coolly, acknowledging his introduction with a nod. "Zena's sister."

Unlike many others he had met, Zara didn't seem impressed by his fame or charming demeanor. She held no interest in KPOP or Stray Kids, finding them overrated and annoying. Her loyalty lay with Zena, whom she loved deeply and was fiercely protective of. KPOP was simply not her cup of tea, despite being close to someone who adored it wholeheartedly.

"Well, Zara, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a cheerful smile. "Will you be joining us at the concert?"

Zara shook her head firmly, her long blonde ponytail swaying as she did so. Her blue eyes held a hint of defiance.

"No, thank you. I'm not particularly fond of KPOP. I have other plans for the evening," she replied with a slight untruth. She didn't have any concrete plans, but the thought of spending her night surrounded by rowdy boys and frenzied fans was unappealing to say the least.

Although she was a music lover, this specific genre was not up her ally.

Felix felt a pang of hurt wash over him as he furrowed his brow. His mind raced with questions and doubts as he tried to get her to change her mind.

"Are you absolutely certain? It's bound to be an unforgettable experience. Our songs are catchy and our dances are lively, and we all have unique personalities that shine on stage. I truly believe you might enjoy us if you just give us a chance," he pleaded, his tone tinged with hopefulness and desperation.

Zara shook her head for the second time. "No, I'm positive. I have other tasks to attend to. Zena would appreciate it much more anyways," she stated, not giving it a second thought.

She spun gracefully on her heels and sauntered over to the next aisle to retrieve an item from their shopping list, giving them a moment alone. She returned in a matter of seconds.

A twinge of guilt and sadness tugged at Zena's heart as she thought of her sister. She longed for her to be by her side, sharing in this incredible experience. She considered declining Felix's offer and staying with her sister because it wasn't as fun to go by yourself, but then she looked at him with his concerned and hopeful expression. A small smile played on his lips.

Felix turned to Zena, his tone gentle and sincere. "You're not changing your mind on me, are you?" he asked. "It'll be a blast, and I really want to hang out with you and get to know you better. And I'd love for you to meet the rest of the band. What do you say?" His words enveloped her like a warm hug, tempting her to forget her concerns and have a fun evening with this truly kind man.

Her heart was in turmoil, torn between two opposing desires. On one hand, she craved to join Felix at his concert – to witness his performance, meet his bandmates, and have a carefree time. Yet, on the other hand, she couldn't bear the thought of going without her sister. She grappled with the burden of conflicting wants and her sense of duty towards both Felix and her sister.

He stood by, waiting for her answer without any sign of impatience. The thought of spending time with him, making him happy and enjoying his company, sent her heart racing. However, when she glanced over at her sister, a twinge of nervousness passed through her.

With one last deep breath, she made a decision.

Her lips parted, her breath catching in anticipation as she spoke. "Thank you, Felix," she said warmly, her heart overflowing with gratitude for his invitation. She could feel the weight of his kindness and generosity in every word.

"I would be happy to go." Her words were filled with excitement and curiosity, and as she gazed at Felix, she saw his face light up like a starry night sky. His smile widened, revealing a set of perfect white teeth, and his eyes sparkled with joy and relief. It was clear that he was just as excited about their plans as she was.

His face lit up with hopeful disbelief. "Really? You would? That's incredible!" His voice rose in excitement, causing the words to tumble out in a rush. "I'm so glad you said yes. You won't regret it. Trust me."

She turned to her sister, afraid to see her reaction. But Zara's eyes were filled with pure joy and excitement for her. A wide smile spread across her face, expressing her approval and shared enthusiasm for her beloved older sister.

A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she playfully rolled them at Zena. She gestured towards Felix, a kind and patient man who stood by with a warm smile on his face. "Come on, Zena," she chided gently, "let's not be rude. Say thank you." Her voice was filled with warmth and affection for her sister. Zena returned the smile and nodded gratefully, her demeanor softening under the gentle reminder.

Zena's gaze met Felix's once again, his eyes still brimming with hope and eagerness. She couldn't help but smile at his expression, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, surprising both him and herself. "Thank you, Felix," she whispered into his ear. "Thank you for being so kind and generous. And thank you for inviting me to your concert." Her voice was filled with genuine appreciation and excitement. As he hugged her back, she could feel the strength of his embrace and the warmth of his body against hers, causing a flutter in her stomach. "I have no doubt it will be an amazing night," she added with a grin. "And thank you for that mini concert," Felix replied with a chuckle, bringing a blush to Zena's cheeks.

With a twinkle in his eyes and a playful grin, he broke away from their embrace and locked his gaze onto hers. "Hold on," he said, reaching into his pocket, "let me give you the tickets and VIP pass."

"Why don't you give me your phone number? That way I can text you all the details." With a fluttering heart, she recited her number to him. He quickly typed it into his phone and sent her the ticket and pass links along with a sweet message: "Hi, it's Felix. I'm thrilled that you're coming to our concert. Can't wait to see you. xoxo". The warm feeling in her chest intensified as she watched him put his phone away, knowing that they would soon be reunited at the concert.

He said with a gentle smile, "There, that's taken care of. Now, I must go. I have to check out and get back to the hotel before the rest of the band wonders where I am. But I'll see you later, okay? Don't forget about me."

His brown eyes sparkled mischievously as he winked at her. He turned on his heels and strides towards the cashier, leaving her breathless and in disbelief.

As she watched him go, she couldn't help but feel a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. A sense of joy bubbled up in her chest, mixed with excitement, giddiness, wonder, and curiosity. She pulled out her phone and began looking at the text he sent her moments before.

Zena's sister gazed at her with a mixture of bemusement and admiration, a smile dancing on her lips.

"Oh my gosh, Zena," she exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm, "you're going to a Stray Kids concert with Felix! How do you feel? Are you bursting with excitement? Are you a bundle of nerves? How did you manage to score the tickets? Give us all the juicy details!" She playfully held an imaginary microphone up to Zena's face, as if conducting an interview for a popular talk show.

She shook Zena's arm in an attempt to elicit a response. "Come on, sis," she prodded teasingly, "don't be silent. Say something. Anything. You must be over the moon right now. Tell me." Zara's playful whining continued as she eagerly awaited her sister's reaction.

Zena's laughter tinkled through the air as she playfully shoved her sister.

Her heart was racing with excitement and nerves, still in disbelief that she had just met a member of Stray Kids. She couldn't stop looking at the tickets and VIP pass on her phone, trying to imprint them into her memory forever.

As Felix disappeared through the door, Zena couldn't help but exclaim, "Dreams really do come true."

She turned to walk away, her sister trailing behind her, their conversation already turning to what Zena should wear for the concert tonight. Every step felt light and buoyant, as if she were floating on a cloud of pure joy and anticipation.

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Note: I know Chan hasn’t been introduced yet but he’s coming in the next chapter I promise. I’m building it up to that point. So bear with me.

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