#very mild but. carter is just Like That

[stomach-rental]

The kids from my OTHER endosoma story that is much more developed: Perennial! I will be talking about it more and more as time goes on, but for now...you get them.

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[sourmaybank]

Icebound Devotion

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader || WC: 1.7k

SUMMARY: a case involving a couple of hockey players makes Spencer doubt if you deserve better.

WARNINGS: established relationship, typical criminal minds level violence, mild angst, talks of blood and gore

A/N: i’ve been on a criminal minds kick lately, especially Spencer sooo this came to mind especially with it being hockey season very soon! Hope y’all enjoy! This is my first work on tumblr and I’m pretty proud of it! Graphic divider is from @firefly-graphics <3

➩ main masterlist

“Good morning my beautiful people!” The cheery voice of Penelope Garcia rang out throughout the conference room. “I hope my presence brought you some comfort because this one’s a real doozy.” She grimaced, taking a breath before displaying the BAU’s latest case on the screen.

“Twenty-two-year-old Bryce Carter from Detroit, Michigan, was found dead in the men’s locker room by one of his fellow hockey teammates. Detroit police said that poor Bryce Carter was bludgeoned to death by his own hockey skate and that his hockey stick was lodged into both of his legs.” She closed her eyes in utter disbelief as the words left her mouth.

“Bludgeoned to death by a skate and having his hockey stick lodged into his legs, that’s clear overkill,” Derek pointed out. “This Unsub has some clear anger issues.” You chimed in grimacing at the bloody crime scene photos in front of you.

Spencer adjusted his glasses and added, “The use of the hockey equipment as murder weapons could indicate a personal vendetta. The unsub might have a deep connection to the sport or even to Bryce himself. Hockey skates are incredibly sharp and can cause significant damage, while the force required to lodge a hockey stick into someone’s legs suggests immense rage.”

JJ nodded, “We should look into Bryce’s personal relationships, both on and off the ice. Any recent conflicts or unusual behavior from teammates or rivals?”

Rossi leaned back in his chair and mused, “You know, hockey is a sport where tempers can flare easily. We might be looking at someone who snapped in the heat of the moment. But the brutality of this attack suggests it’s more than just a moment of rage.”

Kate added, “We should also consider the possibility of a fan or someone from outside the team. Hockey fans can be incredibly passionate, sometimes to the point of obsession. If Bryce had a stalker or an overly enthusiastic fan, that could be another angle.”

Hotch stood up, “All of you have great points. Garcia, I want you to gather all the information you can on Bryce’s teammates, coaches, and anyone else connected to the team. We need to understand the dynamics at play here. As for the rest of you, we’ll discuss each and every one of your theories with more depth on the jet. Wheels up in thirty.”

As the team dispersed to start their investigation, you couldn’t help but feel a chill run down you spine. “Hey,” Spencer coaxed noticing your stiff demeanor. “We’re going to solve this just like all the others.” He reassured, squeezing you into one of his bone crushing hugs. This case was definitely going to be a tough one.

Arriving in Michigan, the cold air instantly bit at your cheeks as you stepped out of the car. The city was alive with the spirit of hockey, banners and posters of the local team adorning every corner.

As directed by Hotch, you and JJ were to go down to the ice rink and interrogate all of Bryce’s teammates, coaches, and even standby staff and fans whom were present.

Inside, the sound of skates slicing through ice and the thud of pucks hitting the boards filled the air. The players noticed your presence almost immediately and skated over, their expressions a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

“Alright, gentlemen,” you began pulling out your credentials alongside JJ, your tone firm but fair, "My name is SSA Y/N Y/L/N and this is SSA Jennifer Jareau, we need to go over a few things from the other day. We have some questions that need answers regarding your teammate Bryce Carter.”

One of the players, a tall blonde guy with a stern face, skated forward. “What do you want to know?” JJ took out her notebook, her eyes scanning the group. “We need to understand your whereabouts on the night of the incident. Any detail, no matter how small, could be helpful.”

The players exchanged glances before another spoke up. “We were all at the rink, practicing late. After that, we went to Joe’s Bar. You can check with the bartender.”

You nodded, watching JJ jot down the information. “We will. But we also need to know if any of you had any contact with the victim prior to the incident." You took a second, a question quickly emerging. "Why wasn't Bryce at the bar with you guys? After all he was found here by the night janitor."

The tall player whom you and JJ quickly noticed was the alpha male of the group frowned. “Look, we didn’t have anything to do with it. We’re just here to play hockey. As for Bryce, he was too good to go out drinking with the rest of us.”

JJ"s gaze was steady. “We understand that, but we need to cover all our bases. If there’s anything else you remember, now is the time to speak up.”

As you continued the questioning, you noticed a few of the players exchanging smirks and glances specifically towards you. One of them, a guy with a charming smile and tousled brown hair, skated closer to you. “So, Agent, how long are you in town for?”

Before you could respond, another player chimed in, “Yeah, maybe you can catch one of our games. We could use some good luck from someone like you.” He smirked looking at you up and down shamelessly.

JJ raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. “We’re here to work, not to watch games.” You stepped in, refocusing the conversation. “Alright, enough. We’re here to solve a case, not to make friends. If you remember anything else, contact us immediately.”

The players nodded, their flirtatious demeanor never fading, in fact they were only encouraged as you handed them your card . You and JJ exchanged a glance, knowing that despite the distractions, you were one step closer to finding the truth.

You could not be happier arriving at the station, following JJ to the makeshift conference room the Detroit Sheriff's station had kindly offered. "Here they come." Rossi greeted being the first to notice your return. "Welcome back." Kate smiled. "Glad to be back." JJ huffed making you nod in agreement.

"How many muscled hockey players were checking you out?" Morgan teased despite knowing that you and Spencer had been in a committed relationship for almost three years.

"I don't know Morgan, I was there for work." You emphasized dropping your body in the seat next to Spencer whom was working the geographical profile.

"Good job you two." Hotch praised turning from the evidence board he was working on. "Garcia was able to find two more victims who were also bludgeoned by skates and pierced with hockey sticks."

Spencer looked up from his work, giving you a reassuring smile. "It looks like we're starting to see a pattern here. These new victims might help us narrow down the suspect pool." You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

"That's good news. The sooner we can catch this guy, the better." Hotch continued, "We need to cross-reference the new victims with our existing list and see if there are any common connections. Garcia is already on it." He glanced at his watch noticing how late it was.

"You know what, team? Let's call it a night," Hotch decided. "We can come back refreshed in the morning and tackle this with clear minds." Everyone in the room visibly relaxed at the prospect of some much-needed rest.

As you stood up, Spencer gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll get him," He said softly, his eyes full of reassurance. You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "Yeah, we will." Finally getting a moment alone since landing in Michigan, Spencer turned his attention towards you.

“You seem drained, were the interrogations that bad?” You shrugged slinging your bag over your tense shoulder. “Just like any normal interrogation except I think I had enough testosterone for one day.” 

Smiling you leaned against him, “I don’t know about you but I’m ready for a nice warm shower and some room service. How does that sound?” You knew something was wrong the second Spencer did not respond to that. It didn't take a profiler to know that Morgan's earlier comments had gotten to him.

Spencer simply stood there, his eyes clouded with doubt, his mind plagued with thoughts of inferiority. He imagined seeing you surrounded by confident, charismatic guys, and it made him question his worth. You could immediately sense his unease, and it broke you heart to see him like this.

Determined to erase his doubts, you stepped closer, gently placing you hands on his shoulders. "Spencer," You whispered, voice soft but firm, "There's no one better than you." Before he could respond, you leaned in, lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

You made sure to pour your heart and soul into that kiss, letting him feel the depth of your love and commitment. Your lips moved against his with a gentle insistence, conveying all the emotions you couldn't put into words. You could feel his initial hesitation, but as the kiss deepened, he began to relax, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer.

Smiling into the kiss, your fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close, as if to say, "You're the only one for me." Each movement of your lips was a reassurance, a promise that no one else could ever take his place in your heart. When you both finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, looking into his honey-hued eyes that had you smitten since day one.

"Spencer," you said softly, "You are everything to me. Don't ever doubt that." His eyes softened, the shadows of doubt fading away. Just as he was about to reassure you that he was okay and that he'd never let Morgan get in his head again, he noticed an unmistaken group of hockey players walk out of the station, completely defeated.

Spencer turned to you completely confounded. “You planned this.” You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Come on, pretty boy, I think they got the message loud and clear.” Grinning, Spencer nodded and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer, indulging in another kiss just because.  

The hockey players exchanged glances, their earlier bravado now replaced with a sense of unease. Spencer's hand tightened around yours as he whispered, “I guess we showed them, huh?” You chuckled, “Yeah, we sure did. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[pricefieldsuperiority]

Number One Pick

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x reader

Genre: Homoerotic friendship, cheating, smut, angst + comfort ending.

Summary: You want Caitlin to pick you over her boyfriend Connor, just once.

Warnings: Smut with plot! Fingering, name calling/pet names, teasing, mild degradation

The game against Chicago Sky was close.

Caitlin had been booked and busy lately, playing 11 games in 20 days. This was the second game you were able to attend in person, as the only other had been her very first game of the season.

During the third quarter, you watch Chennedy Carter knock Caitlin to the ground while waiting for an inbound pass. You scream "flagrant foul!" with the rest of your section, but the refs declare it an away-from-ball foul.

It doesn't end up mattering anyway, though, cause the game ends 71 to 70.

The crowd is roaring, and you're cheering as loud as you can, watching the pride all over Caitlin's face. This was Indiana Fever's second win of the season, so you can't help but grin like an idiot at Caitlin and her teammates all celebrating on the court, high fiving, and yelling.

After Caitlin finishes her after post-game interview, she picks you up into a bear hug, her eyes lit up with happiness.

"We won!!! I missed you so much y/n"

Caitlin buries her face in your neck and her hands linger on your waist for a few seconds longer than necessary before she puts you down. You smile at her, patting her back.

"Yeah, I saw!! You did so good"

Caitlin rubs her arm absent-mindedly,

"I'm tired as hell.. I think my ankle hurts from earlier, too."

You just smile, and grab her bag from her.

"Come on, I parked outside"

Normally Caitlin drives, but you know she's exhausted from tonight, so you drive. She falls asleep in the car, and while you're stopped at a stoplight, you watch the way her hair's fanned out prettily on the headrest. Her eyelashes are dark, creating crescent shadows under her eyes. She looks so tired, the dark circles much more prominent than you remember.

You pull up to Caitlin's hotel- you're staying with her for a few days. She's been lonely lately, and wanting you to come visit. After her game tomorrow against New York Liberty she'll have a few free days until her game against the Washington Mystics on the 7th.

You're shorter than Caitlin- most people were, considering she was 6'0, and certainly not as strong, so you can't pick her up in her sleep, but in this moment you wish you could.

"Caitlin, we're here"

She blinks groggily and gets out of the car, and you make it all the way upstairs before she just flops onto the bed.

"Ugghhhh.. sorry y/n, I know I asked you to come stay, but I'm just so wiped..."

Caitlin groans into her pillow as her phone starts blowing up with notifications. During games she keeps it off, but now that she's at the hotel and connected to wifi, everything's pouring in.

"Probably just Twitter covering the Carter foul.. bullshit"

She turns over onto her side, looking at you.

"Yeah I saw that, what the hell was that foul??"

Caitlin rubs her arm again and you scoot closer to her on the bed, checking for a bruise.

"Nothing, you're good- and man, maybe they'll reevaluate?"

Caitlin just kicks off her shoes, chucking them closer to the door.

"They asked me about it during the post-game interview.. whatever, honestly, we still won."

Just then, Caitlin's phone rings, high and shrill. Connor's name flashes on the screen, bold and large.

"Who- oh him"

She ignores the call, flipping her phone over.

"I'm gonna take a shower- hopefully I'll be less dead after that and dinner"

Caitlin walks away then, not bothering to even give her phone a second glance, as she pulls clothes out for her shower.

Around 20 minutes later you hear the water turn off and she comes out of the bathroom with her hair wet, in nothing but a tank top and shorts.

You shift your position on the bed at the sight of her, crossing your legs at the feeling.

Caitlin presses a knee into the mattress and stands with her arms out.

"Come here, I'm sleepy"

Your heart wrenches a little, you're sure you're half in love with Caitlin- and how could you not be. Whatever this is between you two, you refuse to label it as just friendship. You wish you could.

Even still, you crawl over and hug her waist, breathing in the scent of her fresh shampoo. Her head rests on top of yours, water droplets hitting the back of your shirt.

"You should eat something-"

You say, your words slightly muffled by her chest and shirt. Her hands are in your hair, tangled in the strands, combing gently.

"Yeahhhh.. about that"

Caitlin tilts your head up to look at her, her fingers cool under your jaw. You feel her switch her weight to her other leg, sliding her knee between your legs.

Her brown eyes are dark, desire dilating her pupils, and you feel yourself longing for her more than you'd like to admit. You feel the pull in your stomach and subconsciously your hands grip her waist a little tighter as you stare at her.

You know what's gonna happen, even though you've told yourself over and over again to not let it happen. To just be friends, to set some boundaries, because she's got Connor and you can't just keep doing this, that she'd never pick you over him. But you just can't find it in yourself to hold back right now, the want too much.

Caitlin kisses you hungrily, hands on your face, and she pushes you over onto the bed, hips straddling your waist.

You moan into her mouth, hands pulling her in. You squeeze her ass as she adjusts on top of you.

"Take this off," She demands, and you take off your shirt quickly.

Caitlin just raises a brow, unhooking your bra for you, and sucks your nipple immediately, fingers kneading the other.

"Oh Caitlin-" You clutch at her hair as her hands continue to roam over you, pulling off your sleep shorts.

"You're so wet for me.. just waiting for me to do this huh?"

Caitlin's face is cocky, playful smirk playing on her face. Her fingers dip into your wetness, circling your clit, and she smirks wider as your hips raise slightly at her touch.

"Did you touch yourself thinking of me when I was away? Been my little slut?"

You moan at her words.

"Yes..." You admit.

"You like it when I call you a slut? My slut?" She asks, pressing kisses right under your jaw.

You moan a yes out as she pushes two fingers easily into you.

"Look at that, taking me so well"

Caitlin's going at a quick pace, her palm rubbing against your clit. You're gonna come fast if she keeps this up, and you feel it building in your lower stomach.

"I'm- I'm gonna come.. Caitlin"

You arch your back as she continues to hit your g spot roughly.

Caitlin grabs your face, making you look at her again.

"Come for me, I wanna hear you say my name y/n"

"Fuck Caitlin.. Caitlin.." You moan her name as you climax, finishing all over her.

She sucks her fingers when she takes them out, and you pull her down into a kiss.

"Wait, what about Connor?" You whisper, giving her an out, even though you know that's never stopped her.

"Who cares about him-" She says, panting slightly, too busy chasing her own high as your fingers dip into the waistband of her shorts.

"Fair-" It's your turn to smirk, even though the temporary win is bittersweet.

You find her clit easily, her underwear soaked.

"You made me feel so good, baby." The term of affection slips out by mistake, but she doesn't seem to notice as you kiss down her neck.

"Come on y/n, make me come-"

Caitlin's demand is cut short when her phone rings again, and Connor's name flashes on the screen for the second time.

"You gonna pick that up?" You tease as she sits up, looking at her phone. Your fingers are buried inside her, curling to hit her g spot, and you can tell she's warring with herself, even on top of you.

"I- uh-" Caitlin's moans are breathy, her hips rocking into your thrusts.

"You should answer, tell him who's fucking you"

You're being a little mean, annoyed at yourself for letting yourself get swept up in her again, annoyed at his existence, she doesn't even love him- so you tease her further by pulling her down onto you again.

"Fuck- I.. I can't.. I'm gonna come y/n"

Caitlin's moaning into your ear, her hand still clutched around the phone, the call ringtone loud and annoying, just like Connor himself.

"I want everyone to hear who's fucking you like this, cause it ain't him-"

"Y/n... oh god y/n" Caitlin comes, her body flush against yours. You bite her as she does, leaving a pretty hickey smack in the middle of her neck that she'll have to cover up later.

The call goes to voice-mail, and Caitlin's phone sits forgotten beside you two.

Caitlin gets off you, refreshed grin on her face.

"That was good.. UGH.. I guess I'll have to call him back later-"

You're not surprised, this is common. You wonder if you should say something, if you'll finally have the courage to tell her that this is the last time, that you can't keep doing this because you like her more than you should.

"Is it always gonna be like this Cait?"

You ask her, watching her run some water on a towel to throw to you, as per usual.

"What? It's just sex y/n" Caitlin avoids your eyes as she replies, pulling a shirt on.

"You're my best friend, it can't just be sex- he doesn't fuck you like this, doesn't make you feel like this!"

Caitlin's stepping into her shorts, her eyebrows knit together.

"He tries! And I don't know.. we're just friends..."

She trails off, like she's unsure of her own words.

You can't believe she wants to keep avoiding how she feels,

"Who was there at your first game of the season? Who was on call after every game after, debriefing with you? It wasn't him!"

"Y/n.."

You keep going as you throw on clothes of your own, suddenly feeling vulnerable naked in front of her.

"We act like girlfriends, in every sense but the title- we do everything together, we have sex, we call every night- do you even love him? You know this is more than sex."

Caitlin's standing up now, hand on her forehead.

"I... I don't know if I love him.. but I'm not gay! Or at least.. not-"

"What, not for me? Do you hear yourself??" You scoff at her.

Maybe it's too much, everything that's been going on, because Caitlin bursts into tears.

"Cait-" You say, lost for words as the tears run down her cheeks. She hates crying.

"It's too much.. being out here alone, not playing with Kate, Jada, Gabbie- being the rookie.. dealing with Connor.. and.."

She wipes at her eyes, looking at the bedspread as she tries to get out her next words.

"And how I feel about you- I know it's not fair to you that I'm still with him"

Your heart physically aches at her confession and you tap the spot on the bed next to you, placing her phone on the bedside table.

Caitlin hides her face in your chest, arms clutching you tightly.

"I'm sorry y/n"

You soothe her, stroking her hair,

"Shhhhh.. it's okay Cait"

She looks up at you, pushing herself upright.

"No, you're right.. it's not.. I thought if I kept trying to like him, that it might happen- and if I tried hard enough, maybe I'd feel even a fraction of how I feel around you, around him."

You move the hair out of her face, wiping away her tears.

"I get it" You say, as she continues.

"You're more than my best friend.. it'd be stupid to say this was just sex.. I don't want to lose you"

Caitlin's clutching your hands, and you want to believe her, to believe in you two.

Her phone rings again.

"It's Connor" You say softly.

There's determination in her eyes now, a fire you hadn't seen before. She takes the call, swiping across the screen.

"Hey I can't talk, I'll text later" Caitlin says briskly, before hanging up. You smile wide at her, despite yourself and the situation, and she smiles back.

"I'll dump him, I'm gonna make this right.. you're my number one pick y/n.. I swear it"

Caitlin's eyes are wide, solemn and honest. You believe her.

The clock on the wall reads 1 am and the tiredness hits you like a wave. You know she must be exhausted too.

You say softly,

"Why don't you start by cuddling me and sleeping?"

Caitlin's eyes light up at your words, relieved.

"Okay, I can do that"

Caitlin settles under the covers, and you feel yourself falling asleep as you kiss her forehead.

Guess she really would pick you over him.

---

Authors Note: I know I usually write for Paige but I've been wanting to write a fic with this concept and couldn't make Paige work. Hope y'all don't mind the change, Paige fic coming soon.

[heavenlyhischier]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞)

word count: 2.2k

summary: for you, love was a lot like strawberry wine. intense and bittersweet.

warnings: heavily unedited, some mild angst, jacks kind of depicted as an a-hole in this part, idk i think that it

note: this is very loosely inspired by the song strawberry wine by deana carter. like very loosely. please let me know what you think

For as long as you could remember, Ellen Hughes was there for your mom. She was there when your dad passed away and your mom felt like she was lost with nowhere to go now that her soulmate was gone. She helped guide her through the darkest of times, and she was there for you too. You spent many nights at her house when your mom needed a moment to herself, and, in turn, you got to meet some of the best friends you would ever have.

Quinn, Jack, and Luke became constants in your life the second you met them. You grew with them, laughed with them, cried with them, and learned with them. They treated you like you were a part of their family, and it was a relationship you would cherish until the day you were six feet under. Despite growing up with all of them, you grew closest with Jack and can confidently say that he was your best friend. Or at least, you could have three weeks ago.

Jack moving to New Jersey changed only one thing in your friendship, and that was how often you physically saw him. You talked to him just as often as you did before he left, only now it over facetime or phone calls. You were the first person he called when he won a game and wanted to boast about it, or when he lost a game and he needed someone to talk to. He called you when he needed a reminder that he was just a kid and the entire fate of his team did not fall on his shoulders.

You tried to not call him as often because you wanted him to go out and live his life in Jersey, but there some days where you needed him and only him. The night you caught your first boyfriend cheating on you with your college roommate was a big one, and you ended up having to talk him down from flying back to Michigan to handle it on his own. Luke had shown up at your dorm the next day, ready to commit literal murder because Jack had told him what happened, but you used that opportunity to move your things out of the dorm.

Now, you hadn’t talked to Jack in nearly three weeks and you couldn’t figure out what you had done. After a week of your messages going unread and calls not being answered, you stopped reaching out, but you were still hurt. Your friends were starting to notice that something was off with you, but you never gave them a straight answer. Instead, choosing to change the subject and hope they would forget about it.

You could feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, but your hands were full of groceries and you were still on the elevator. A part of you wished it was the one person you wanted to talk to, but you knew better than to let yourself have that much hope. Whoever it was was going to have to wait. The buzzing stopped as you were exiting the elevator, but started right back up again once you neared your apartment door. Placing a few bags on the ground so you could grab your keys, you pulled your phone out first to see Luke’s name on the screen.

“Why hello, Lukey,” You greeted, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder. Despite having radio silence with Jack, you maintained your friendship with his brother’s just fine.

He animatedly said your name into the receiver, eliciting a genuine smile from you as you pushed your door open. “So, when are you coming to the lake house? We’re all going to get there not tomorrow but the next day, and I wasn’t sure if you were going to come later or what.”

The smile fell from your lips, and you faltered in your steps as you placed the groceries on your counter. You had gone with the Hughes’ to their lake house more times than you hadn’t, but your presence was always requested by Jack. Despite seeing them as your second family, and them insisting you were a part of theirs, you never showed up at any of their functions without being prompted to.

“Jack didn’t invite me, bub. I’m staying here,” You meekly admitted, leaning against the counter as you let out a puff of air. Your groceries now at the back of your mind.

“What,” Quinn and Luke’s voices mixed together.

You cringed once you realized that Quinn was there, knowing he’d be able to pick up on the hints that Luke wouldn’t. “Jack hasn’t really talked to me in a while, let alone ask me to the lake house. Which is okay! He doesn’t have to,” Your voice wavering as you mentioned their brother.

“That’s ridiculous. You don’t need a formal invitation, you’re family,” Quinn explained, an understanding tone to his words. Luke was quick to chime in with his agreement.

“That isn’t quite how it works for me,” You sighed, running a nervous hand through your hair, “If I’m not explicitly invited somewhere or told anything, I’m not going.”

“Fine. Y/N you are coming to the lake house and I will be by tomorrow at noon to pick you up!”

After a brief argument with the brothers, you relented and told them they were lucky you don’t start your new teaching job for another few weeks. Putting up your groceries temporarily distracted you from the dull ache in your chest due to not having talked to Jack. However, your apartment was littered with pictures that had him in them, and that feeling was back like it had never left. You hoped that seeing him again would make things right.

-

Luke was knocking on your door at twelve p.m. sharp, and you let him in with the promise that you would be ready to go in ten minutes. You asked him about how his time with the Devil’s was going in order to distract you from the nerves in your body. He happily went on about how he was loving it, and he was excited to be able to play against some of the best hockey players ever.

Once he felt like he had adequately updated you on his life, he asked about yours as he took your bags and left your apartment. You were honest and told him that not much has happened. You graduated school a year early and got your first teaching job at a high school, you’d been on a few unsuccessful dates, and you had thought about getting a cat. You deliberately avoided the conversation about Jack not speaking to you, knowing he would probably bring it up in the car.

“So,” Luke hesitantly started, “Wanna talk about it?”

You were wrong. He didn’t even wait until you were in the car. You had barely made it out of the elevator.

“There’s not much to say,” You shrugged, ignoring the nagging ache in your chest, “I tried reaching out to him to make sure everything was okay, but he hasn’t said anything back.”

“Well, he said he had to go do something before he went to the lake house, so we can figure it out then. Quinn will be there soon and we better get there before everyone else so we can get the good rooms.”

Your apartment was a couple of hours away from the lake house, and the ride there was filled with any conversation other than his brother. Your nerves were bubbling to the surface the closer you got, but you tried to busy yourself with listening to Luke talk. He had such an infectious, happy attitude that you couldn’t help but smile as you spent time with him. 

Luke pulls into the driveway and is getting your bags out of the car when another car pulls up. Your heart momentarily stops, thinking that it might be Jack, but Trevor, Alex, and Cole are the only people who barrel out of the Bronco. Knowing what was about to happen, you take your bag from Luke as the four of them race inside to claim the last available single room. You shake your head as you walk inside, not sure why they even bother since everyone ends up in the same spot anyways.

You could hear them fighting over the rooms as you ascended the stairs, taking claim on the room you’ve always slept in. You placed your bag on the bed, and suddenly a wave of emotions rushed over you. The hurt from Jack not talking to you combined with the heart shattering anxiety of seeing him made your eyes water. Though, the fact that any one of the boys could walk in at any moment was enough to stop yourself from actually crying, but it was still beginning to be too much. You were bound to break soon. 

“Luke, you’re such a jackass,” Trevor playfully yelled as he walked out of the room directly across from your own, “You should have to room with your brother! I do it every time.”

“I live with him. I don’t want to share a room with him,” He defended.

Wiping at your eyes, you joined the boys as they walked back down to the living room. They all took turns wrapping you up in a hug, but they were suspiciously quiet about asking about Jack. Typically, they were all over teasing you about him, but all it took was one look from Quinn to know he warned them to steer clear of the topic. 

Luke had gone outside to get something from his car, leaving you inside to listen to the boys argue about their respective hockey teams. You nervously picked at your nails as Trevor kept trying to drag you in and ask you whose team you think is better. You told him that you were Switzerland, pleading the fifth, or any other variation you could think of in order to stay neutral on the matter. It wasn’t long until Luke came running back inside, slight panic on his face.

He whispered something to Quinn before turning to you, “Hey, can you help me with something in the kitchen?”

He didn’t give you much time to respond before he was dragging you in there by your hand. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, taking note of the way Luke had placed you in the one spot where you couldn’t see the living room. His eyes kept darting behind him, breathing slightly shaky from whatever it was he was trying to pull you away from. 

“What’s going on,” You ask, folding your arms across your chest and meeting his alarmed gaze.

“Nothing,” He squeaked, literally squeaked, “I just wanted your opinion on food options. Like what do you think we should get? Do you think we need t-”

Suddenly, Jack’s voice covered Luke’s, and your eyes bolted towards the door, arms falling limply to your sides. Your jaw slightly dropped, the ghosts of words that you couldn’t get out disappearing into the air. You looked back at Luke with a mix of trepidation and confusion. It wasn’t until you heard him introduce his guest, that you understood why Luke had dragged you into the kitchen.

“Guys, this is Natalie,” You heard him announce before he went around the room to introduce his friends, “C’mon, you can take the room across from me and Trevor.”

This time, you met Luke’s panicked look with one of your own. The two of you silently communicated with each other before he was running out of the kitchen. You heard him pull Natalie and Jack’s attention to him, and you could see Alex gesturing for you to hurry upstairs. You rushed out of the kitchen, grabbing his hand as you quickly climbed the stairs.

“Dude, what is going on,” Alex asked after you had thrown your stuff, and yourself, into Luke’s room, “Quinn told us to not tell Jack you were here. You two are best friends. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” You blinked back yet another surge of tears, “It’s nothing. You can go back downstairs, though. I just needed it to seem like one of you came up here for something because the stairs are creaky and loud and I didn’t want him to ask any questions if he saw everyone still down there.”

“Hey,” He reached out and gently tugged on your arm, “I know we’re not super close or anything, but I’m here for you, too.”

You gave him a weak smile in acknowledgement, waiting for him to leave before you fell back onto the bed and let your emotions take over. His disappearance was suddenly making a lot more sense the longer you thought about it. Before he stopped talking to you, he had mentioned having gone on a few dates with some girl, and they must have gotten serious for him to bring her here. Him not inviting you made a ton of sense, too.

Luke might have invited you, but you still felt like you were intruding knowing that Jack didn’t want you there. You buried your face in the pillows, tears rapidly falling down your cheeks as you let the silent sobs rack through your body. Another girl taking the room that had been unofficially, yet officially, yours hurt for more reasons than you were comfortable with admitting out loud.

two

[salty-an-disco]

some more magical girls au stuff

and also some lore stuff:

– ‘The Echo’ is an immortal entity originated from the first ever echo to be created in that construct that trapped two gods. And now, eons later, this echo is obsessed with keeping a balance between the reincarnating pieces of these gods, and is always seeking out Quiet’s pieces reincarnations so that they always have the power to slay the pieces of the Princess that keep coming back. In this AU, this manifested as him basically making the voices magical girls

– the Echo is attached to a mirror; its shards used to make several hand mirrors he can be on at once and is how he communicates with the voices. Has mild shapeshifting abilities as an inky shadow that usually takes the form of a crow

– the Princesses create dimension bubbles around them ala Madoka Magica that change their surroundings to match their respective themes; they can only be dispersed by either killing the princess or helping them find closure in their stories (Echo conveniently doesn’t tell anyone about the latter option). They’ll always come back when they’re killed tho (often worse), and the cycle can keep going.

– Hero is in community college, studying law (it’s not his passion at all, but his family really wants him to be a lawyer and he can’t disappoint them!!), and often does gigs as a delivery boy for several businesses or other odd jobs. One of the newest magical girls alongside Contrarian – name in this AU is Hiro Capricórnio, and his transformed name is Starling; he has a stars and knight theme, and is able to summon a long, silver, feather that he uses as both a sword and a shield

– my Contra design kinda looks like a vocaloid so I decided he’s an actual superstar in his normal life who goes by the name ‘Contra Jester’ — their shows are always a fun spectacle that mixes in jokes and comedic gags in their musical performance (kinda like an inverse Bo Burnham, but with more lighthearted themes) – his AU name is Carter Thomfoolery (actual birth name) and their transformed name is Lyrical; has a music and clown theme and can summon a lyre that he uses to do all sorts of effects on the people affected

– Oppy is Carter’s agent and a senior magical girl. Doesn’t technically has any credentials to be managing a super star and was caught money laundering before, but hey! as long as he doesn’t try to meddle in their shows, Carter won’t sue them :) — was very concerned when they found out Carter was made a magical girl considering how unpredictable and uncontrollable they already are – AU name is Oscar Wilde and transformed name is Jack of Trades; has a showman/magician theme and can use the cards up his sleeves and his echoing voice to convince others to do what he wants

– Paranoid is a workaholic trying to get into medic school while juggling two part-time jobs and her responsibilities as a magical girl. Is very distrustful of the Echo in her mirror that gives her orders, but is EVEN MORE distrustful of the princesses; one of which is a recurring Nightmare she has only barely managed to defeat a few times. Tries to help/keep an eye on Lyrical and Starling, since she knows how it is to just start this off without much (helpful) guidance – AU name is Pamela Noid, and her transformed name is Little Shrike; has a plague doctor/engineer theme, the suitcase she carries can be opened to all sorts of contraptions that creates toxins and acid-filled bombs or guns, can also produce healing medicine (the pinnacle of “I’m a healer, but–”)

[violet-bruises]

Baby Lay Your Head Down

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OFC (SSA Sophie Carter)

Warnings: Established past relationship (kind of), mild suggestive language, mentions of grief, mentions of death and almost death, mentions of suppressing emotions, excessive longing, angst

Author's note: I've had ideas for Hotch swirling in my head for months years, and this is the first time I've managed to get anything down on paper. In my head, my OFC is a little more fleshed out, as is her relationship to Hotch, and their story is much larger. This is just a small blurb taken from a point in their story that was swirling in my mind recently. I hope it makes sense lol. ALSO! This is my very first time posting to tumblr, or publicly at all for that matter.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN AARON HOTCHNER AS A CHARACTER! ALL CREDIT TO THE CREATOR! (did i say it right?)

Word count: 2,474

Summary: Aaron is usually the first one in the office. Usually.

Once upon a time, Aaron loved mornings. In law school, he’d wake up while it was still dark, squeeze in an early run around campus, shower, and enjoy his coffee all before the sun ever began to show its soft colors. When he and Haley were newlyweds, he’d surprise her with breakfast in bed—which quickly grew cold as they entangled themselves in their straight from the registry sheets. And once Jack was born, Aaron would wake up just to hold him, rock him in the cushioned chair in his nursery before work. But soon, slowly and then all at once, his life grew darker. A thick shadow cast over his days, no matter how high the sun sat in the sky. He and Haley drifted apart. He’d wake many mornings to an empty apartment—no longer a home, much less a house. He spent his mornings in the confines of the BAU. And then Haley died, and Jack almost did; Aaron started sneaking into Jack’s room to watch him sleep just to reassure himself that his son was still here, alive and breathing.

But eventually, mornings became bearable, until they were even enjoyable again. The thick smog over his days lifted. He stopped going into the office early and started having small moments with Jack. Aaron got to enjoy his coffee again, squeeze in the occasional early run, and, for the first time ever, eat breakfast in bed, made for him. For the first time, Aaron’s small apartment felt like home; the soft colors of the sun were no match the vibrant warmth Sophie carted into his life. But clearly Aaron was cursed long ago to fulfill the same prophecy over and over again, because, just as he was finally happy again, truly and utterly, deeply and joyously, he managed to fuck that up, too.

So, once again, Aaron arrives early at the office now every morning. Some occasional mornings, he’s not the first one to wake the floor. On those mornings, he’s grateful—a pot of bitter hot coffee almost certain to be residing in the carafe, singing his name. Most mornings, however, Aaron arrives to a dark and empty bullpen, and he’ll trudge to the small kitchenette in the break room before doing anything else to start the coffee. While the coffee brews, Aaron will make his way to his office, setting down his briefcase and unloading the files on his desk. He’ll file away papers he’s finished with, creating a pile for JJ and Garcia to review. By this time, his coffee has dripped enough that he can pour himself a decent cup. Black. No cream or sugar when in the office, not that any amount could truly save the monstrosity. He’ll place the files on Garcia’s desk, then backtrack to JJ’s. Once he returns, he’ll sit at his desk, pouring over case files, old and new, as the sun rises outside and the city wakes and people begin to pour into the office, a trickle, then a flood.

The same routine for the past three months. Every morning. Everyday.

Except for today.

Today, when Aaron manages to pull himself to the seventh floor and into the BAU, he stops short. The usually quiet and dim office space is punctuated by a soft glow, right at its heart. As he approaches from the entrance, he expects someone to be occupying the lit desk, but its chair is empty. Scattered across the tabletop are case files. A file on the missing twin girls in Arizona from last week (paperwork the responsible unit chief in him is praying is finally done) is open on top, but more lie underneath. He can’t quite read the labels in the shadows that escape the desk lamp’s light. Aaron reaches his hand out to thumb through the papers.

“Oh!”

Aaron swivels to find Supervisory Special Agent Sophie Carter, sock-footed and grasping a massive cup of coffee, standing before him, clearly having just emerged from the break room. Aaron briefly, traitorously, wonders what the ratio of actual coffee to sugar to cream she’s decided on today.

“Good morning,” Aaron greets her, gruffly. He hasn’t spoken since waking up, really only just above a whisper when dropping Jack off at Jessica’s. His voice is rough with unuse. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning,” Sophie responds. She diverts eye contact and brushes just past Aaron to reach her desk chair. Aaron watches her. “And I work here.”

Aaron’s lips purse displeasingly. After a moment, Sophie glances up at him then sighs. “I, um, couldn’t really sleep. Figured I’d turn that into being a model employee and finally finish all of my paperwork.”

Aaron documents the subtle red tinge bloomed across her cheeks. Still avoiding his questioning and concerned gaze, she raises her coffee mug to her soft lips. I’m Down To Just 1 Cup A Day in big block letters written on the side. The mug is as big as his head.

“I wish you’d chosen that philosophy about ten years ago. Would’ve saved me a few headaches.”

Sophie finally meets his eyes again. Warm and dark, nearly midnight when cast away from the light on her desk. Aaron is reminded of the night skies that cover all of the small towns he’s seen; far enough from the city, awash with billions of tiny dots of light—stars that create impossibly beautiful and intricate patterns in the sky—the vastness could swallow him whole, and he’d welcome it with open arms.

“Ha ha,” she intones, but her eyes never lose their warmth. Aaron chuckles but doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches. Watches her shuffle through papers, write things down on a sticky note, tuck papers away in folders, pull more papers out. Finally, with tight shoulders, she turns to look up at him. “Can I help you?”

Aaron scans her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

She frowns. “I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”

Then, Sophie sighs, slumping back in her chair. Aaron knows she’s tired. But it’s not the discoloration under her eyes, or the heaviness of her lids that gives her away. It’s how quickly she caves to telling the truth. Too tired to be stubborn, Aaron muses. The fight and irritation drain from her in an instant. “I don’t know, Hotch. Genuinely, I really haven’t been sleeping well, promise. But. . . yeah, it’s been more than just a few sleepless nights.” She flops over, forehead resting on her folded arms. “I haven’t had insomnia like this since college.” Her words come out muffled and pitiful, wrought with exhaustion.

“How long has it been this bad?”

“Um, I guess. . . since the serial in Montana.”

“That was three months ago.”

She doesn’t answer; her head stays buried. Aaron frowns, though he pretty much has been since he realized it was her desk light on in the dark office. Since his discovery, the sun has risen a tiny bit beyond the brick of the building, the sky a cornflower blue. Aaron reckons it’s about 5:30—about an hour and a half before anyone starts arriving—two and a half before the bullpen is officially alive for the day (and three before Morgan manages his way in). Aaron’s noticed Sophie’s tiredness. Of course he has. He catches her blank stares and heavy lids easily. He would’ve said something by now, but her exhaustion had, remarkably, not yet affected her job. The minute duty calls, she springs into action, like she’s been a tightly coiled spring finally allowed to burst. But, it’s more than just that that holds Aaron back. Because that wasn’t part of their arrangement, was it? Because asking her if she’s been sleeping, or feeling well, or eating okay, or taking care of herself, or seeing anyone— those questions were off limits. Wasn’t that what they’d decided? The rules they’d laid down?

Aaron never really was good at following the rules.

“C’mon.”

Sophie lifted her head, eyes wide and round. “What?”

“C’mon,” Aaron repeated, holding his hand out for her to take. She looked between him and his outstretched palm, gaze wildly skeptical.

“Aaron. . . we talked—”

“You talked, I listened, and this—this isn’t about that. This is about ensuring all of my subordinates are in appropriate shape to adequately perform their duties.”

“Last time I checked, I perform my duties far better than adequately.”

“Sophie,” he pleads. It’s a mistake and he knows it, but she broke the rule first. She called him Aaron. Not Hotch, or Agent Hotchner. His resolve was weak enough as it was; her so easily tossing around his first name like that, when he hadn’t heard it from her in months, when he had grown so used to hearing it when she lay next to him, or, when she whispered it, breathlessly, under him. “Please just. . . humor me.”

Her icy look melted, trickling down her body as exhaustion quickly crept up on her. She didn’t take his hand, but she did stand, shuffling papers in folders and stacking them neatly on top of each other. Aaron waited patiently for her to finish tidying and wondered if he’d ever unlearn her. If he ever wanted to. Arranging papers and cleaning off the desk cleaner than he’d seen it since before it was hers—she was stalling to fully accept his offer, and he knows it’s a punishment, her not giving in. For whom, he’s not quite sure.

Finally, after ages, she turns to him. Her eyebrows raise.

Aaron simply turns on his heel, slightly tipping his head for her to follow. He leads them up the short staircase and as they cross the threshold into his office. Aaron places his briefcase down on his own desk before turning to the couch pressed against the opposite wall.

“Hotch—” So she did realize her mistake, “—really, I’m fine. This isn’t the first sleepless night and early morning I’ve had. I can manage on my own.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away, busying himself with gathering blankets and pillows.

“Hotch.”

“I am very aware that you are perfectly capable of managing on your own. But, Soph,” Aaron can see the miniscule pinch in her brows. Small, but powerful in the painful way it tugs at him. He sighs. “Friends, right? Don’t friends. . . take care of each other?”

Aaron knows, knows all too well, that an argument boils on the tip of her tongue. But he also knows the heavy dangle of her limbs and the soft glaze of her eyes means she’s close to nearly collapsing. It’s not fair, what he’s doing. He knows that and yet. . .

He watches her study the makeshift bed he’s made for her. And then, “I suppose. . . Penelope would do the same for me, too.”

Aaron suppresses a smile. “She would.”

“She’d do more, actually. Penelope would have freshly baked cookies waiting for me, too.”

“That she would.”

“Penelope is a better friend than you are.”

Aaron hears the jest in her voice, but he doesn’t smile. “That she is,” he says, softly.

Finally, Sophie drags her feet to the couch. Without meeting his gaze, she climbs under the covers and settles in. She inhales deeply as her eyes flutter shut.

It should be studied, Aaron thinks, the mercurial rush of affection that overcomes him. He wishes he could control it. Tamper it down and bury it under the crushing weight of all the other emotions he has buried and ignored. He’s usually quite good at it, actually, with years of careful experience under his belt. Though maybe that’s the problem; he’s attempting to add to something already overflowing, and the erosion of it all has chipped his self-control down to nearly nothing.

Aaron’s surety is bone deep: he’s destined to love her until the day he dies. Even if she doesn’t want him to, even if she doesn’t love him. He’d use his dying breath to confess his overwhelming and all-consuming truth. His throat grows tight.

He’s about to turn on his heel, afraid of what he’ll do if he lingers any longer, when Sophie softly calls out to him.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her eyes opening to finally meet his again. Like an electric shock, the urge to touch her races through him. To caress her warm cheek in his palm, to cradle her face and pull it closer to his own, to press his lips to hers. Aaron feels his fingers twitch under his thinning restraint.

He allows his lips to curve in a faint smile. “Of course,” he whispers.

Aaron finally retreats. With his back to her, he swears he can feel Sophie watching him, but when he turns back as he reaches his desk, Sophie has flipped onto her side, her back facing him. It’s for the best, Aaron reminds himself. If he’d caught her eye again, the ghost of his resolve would haunt his office forever.

As the hours ticked on, the BAU bullpen slowly comes back to life. Just as eight o’clock slips by and the trickling morning light catches the ends of Sophie’s hair ablaze, a knock sounds on his door. Before Aaron gets a chance to stand and answer, the door opens and Garcia swiftly steps in.

“Good morning, sir! I sent over the background profiles you requested from the Jefferson City case—”

“Thank you, Garcia. I—”

“Also, I got that police chief in Wichita to finally send over the files on that cold case Rossi needed—”

“Garcia—”

“You wouldn’t believe the sweet talking I had to do, I mean, Morgan level—”

“Garcia!” Aaron couldn’t resist glancing at Sophie, still fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Garcia caught his slip, and she followed his gaze.

“Oh!”

Garcia looked between Aaron and Sophie, once. Then twice.

“Oh, sir,” she started, much softer than when she’d entered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize!” Garcia began to back out of his office. “See! I saw her desk light on but I hadn’t seen her since I got in. I thought maybe she just forgot to turn it off, ya know, but then she didn’t respond to my text! Which I get now why, you know, given that she’s, you know—”

“Garcia.” She stopped at the entry way. “Let’s just— please don’t—”

She nodded rapidly and mimicked zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. “Of course, sir.”

Just before she closed the door, Garcia poked her head back in.

“Oh! Also, I brought leftover cookies I baked for the counseling center. They’re in the kitchen!” And the door clicked shut behind her.

“See,” Sophie mumbled, voice muffled by the pillows. “Told you.”

Aaron laughs. Maybe these new early mornings weren’t so bad after all.

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 5

Find the series masterlist

We get a wee bit of plot here, some more fluff, and Blue Team! Because I adore Blue Team. Still just my fun not to be taken seriously story.

Warnings: Swearing, mild violence.

Word count: 2.3k

“So, boss,” Lindsay started as she let herself into the exam room with you. “You done an inventory lately?”

Your heart immediately dropped. “Not for two days,” you answered slowly. “Why?”

“One of the other techs bungled some stuff.” She grimaced, clearly displeased, and pushed some dark hair back behind her ear. “So we’re running low on… just about everything.”

You blew out a slow breath. Okay. That pushed up your timeline some, but it wasn’t impossible. You’d always known you’d have to restock on plants sooner or later. “Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll talk to the higher ups today, see if we can get a party arranged. You want to come?”

“And Carter,” Lindsay agreed. “You’re not leaving us behind, boss.” She flashed you a grin, white teeth brilliant against her dark skin. 

You chuckled but nodded your assent. “Alright, fair enough. Let me go talk to some people. I’d imagine we won’t be going until tomorrow, but get everything ready, just in case.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Lindsay flounced away to go drag Carter into helping her.

Shaking your head, yet again amazed at the resilience of that woman, you headed to what passed as HQ around here. 

Fortunately, it didn’t take much to convince the ranking officer that you needed to go, and that the three of you had done this dozens of times. Lieutenant Beck actually spoke up in favor, which you were quite sure helped. 

So it was agreed that you’d meet your assigned team tomorrow morning to go picking. 

Pleased with both your success and the promise of getting to leave base for a little while, you hummed a bit as you left… and very nearly ran into Fernando. 

“Whoa!” He held his hands up at your shoulders, ready to catch you. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” You smiled a little bashfully. “Too eager to get back to medbay, I guess.”

“Good news?” he asked, motioning for you to go first. 

“Carter, Lindsay, and I are going out plant gathering tomorrow,” you told him with a grin. “For medicinal purposes. It’s fun.” 

“Huh. You need any help?” Fernando raised one eyebrow at you.

“Sure,” you agreed with a shrug. “You’ll have to talk to the CO to volunteer, but you’re welcome to come.” 

Fernando nodded. “Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He winked and then headed off in a different direction. 

Shaking your head, amused, you continued on your way back to medbay. You had some preparations to make for tomorrow. 

You figured you’d be the first to the meeting point, since you’d gotten up early. 

But no. Instead you found four Spartans in full gear, talking quietly amongst themselves next to two Warthogs. You paused, confused. 

“Has Chief told you yet?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Fernando spoke from behind you, and you whirled to glare at him. “Told me what?”

Looking sheepish, Fernando motioned to the Spartans. “That’s his team. Blue team.”

“Oh.” You turned back to look, spotting Kelly immediately. “I’m glad they found each other, then.” 

“And they volunteered to come be your escorts.”

Your jaw dropped a bit and you looked at Fernando again. “What?”

Fernando was trying not to grin, the little shit. “Chief volunteered soon as I told him you were leading this little party.” 

You shook your head, turning to look. Chief wasn’t even looking your way, but Kelly was, and she dipped her head to you in a clear nod. You returned it, still feeling rather gobsmacked. 

“Where are you two helpers?”

That snapped you out of your funk. Sort of. “Lindsay and Carter are probably on their way. They don’t like early mornings.” You shrugged, glancing behind you to see if you could spot either of them. They still had a couple minutes yet to show up. 

“Come on.” Fernando ushered you forward, over to Blue Team. You shot him a dirty look over your shoulder, feeling oddly shy. 

“Good to see you again,” Kelly offered first.

“You too.” You glanced between her and Chief. “Told you he’d come around sooner rather than later.”

“So you did.” The humor in her voice was subtle but there. “The other two are still coming?”

“Yeah, they’ll be here.” You shrugged, putting the empty baskets down on the back of one of the two Warthogs. “You guys might get bored out there, sorry. It’s usually quiet.”

“We’ll manage fine.” The other male Spartan spoke up this time. “Call me Fred.”

“Linda,” the last soldier added. 

You nodded to each of them, debating if you should let the silence sit, when an awed exclamation behind you made you turn. Lindsay and Carter stood there, ready to go, Carter with his mouth still open. 

You snorted. “C’mon, Carter, manners. We have them,” you teased, walking over to take the baskets from him and nudge him with your elbow. 

Carter snapped his mouth closed and shot you a look of mixed panic and fury. “What?”

“They volunteered,” was all you offered, shrugging easily. You glanced back at Chief, meeting the gold visor for a moment. “We splitting up four and four?”

“Affirmative.” 

“Got it. Carter, sit with Lindsay.”

The groups split up without a word. Fernando hopped into the back of one Warthog with you, while Chief and Kelly rode in the front. 

“So what are we looking for, exactly?” Fernando asked over the noise of the engine.

“It’ll be easier to show you,” you said with an easy shrug. “But, they’re all plants. Just don’t eat anything you don’t know and all will be well.” 

“Has someone done that?” Fernando raised both eyebrows at you.

“Yes.” You heaved a sigh. “Dumbass marine at a mushroom without asking anyone. He’s lucky it was safe, I half-expected him to be dead by the end of the day.” 

“Well. Guess I won’t be picking any mushrooms.” Fernando still seemed a little startled, but clearly the point had been made. 

It wasn’t much longer until the two Warthogs stopped, and everyone got out.

“You two know what we need,” you said to Lindsay and Carter. “Let me know if anything happens, or you need my opinion.”

“Sounds good, boss.” Lindsay gave you a thumbs up and started dragging Carter away. Carter, for his part, looked resigned but unsurprised. Linda and Fred followed the two of them, alert but relaxed, ish. 

“Alright, let’s see how fast you pick this up.” You shot Fernando a grin and started in the opposite direction, handing him a basket. “Here’s what we need…”

Fernando was a fast learner, and he picked things up quickly. It wasn’t long before you went from instructing to hanging back to supervise. And then you left him on his own (with Kelly) to go gather your own plants. 

Chief stayed with you, sending your heart racing. But you swallowed past it and crouched down to investigate some flowers. 

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” You spoke quietly, but you were certain he could hear you. “The other evening.” 

“You didn’t.” His voice was low, still rumbly, still comforting. And that gave you a moment of pause, because when did his voice become comforting? But you shook it off and smiled down at the dirt. 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Chief.”

“I’m not.” He took a step closer to you. 

Finally, you chanced looking back at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. His shoulders were relaxed, and his helmet was aimed at you. So you nodded. 

“Alright then, Chief.”

“John.”

“What?” You blinked up at him. 

“My name.” He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight. 

“John.” You were already watching him, so you caught the additional shift of his weight. “Thank you.”

He nodded. You worked quietly for a while before finally setting your nearly-full basket aside to drink some water instead. 

You didn’t even hear anything coming. One moment you were picking another flower, the next John was in front of you, shield coming to life as something hit him. He didn’t even hesitate, returning fire while keeping himself between you and any threats. 

You didn’t scream, but you did freeze, eyes wide. You hadn’t honestly expected to be attacked out here. Even if it didn’t seem to be a very large attack - John was already sweeping the area for further threats. 

And then you got lucky. You bent over to get your basket, and a knife hit the tree behind you, where your chest had been moments before. You hit the ground with a whimper. 

There was a moment of movement. A very loud gunshot. And then silence. 

“We need to move.” 

You looked up to find John still holding his gun with one hand, the other held out for you. You took it and stood, quickly scooping up your basket. 

“Okay,” you agreed, voice small, shoulders hunched. 

He hesitated for a bare moment before his hand closed over yours, surprisingly gentle given the strength you knew he had. “I’ve got you. Stay close.”

So you did, keeping up with him as the two of you headed back to the Warthogs. You arrived moments before Carter and Fred did, the others already there. 

“Problems?” Chief asked, glancing at his team.

“Negative,” Kelly answered, already ushering Fernando into a Warthog. 

“You must have run into a scouting team,” Linda added. “I found no signs on the way back or in the immediate area.” 

Chief nodded. “Head back to base.” 

The ride back was silent. Fernando sat next to you, close enough that you could lean into him for some comfort, which you did. 

Carter and Lindsay took the baskets, since you’d have to go with Blue Team to debrief. 

Admittedly, you zoned out a bit, until it was your turn. Then you recounted events as best you could remember. Not that you had anything useful to add. Chief had taken care of that. 

“Sir,” Chief added before you could all be dismissed. “Permission to investigate further.”

“Granted.” The Lieutenant looked tired and waved you all out. 

“Good hunting,” you murmured to John as the rest of his team turned away.

John hesitated for a moment before he nodded. One hand brushed yours, deliberate and slow, before he followed his team.

Leaving you wondering what had just happened.

Nope, too much to process. You needed to work. Burying yourself in work was a tried and true method for not-dealing with shit like this. 

And when you inevitably got kicked out, you took a basket back to your quarters with you. Nobody had a lot of space here, but you at least did have your own dedicated space. You weren’t sure if it was perks of being a civilian, a medic, or both, but you sure weren’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

You didn’t emerge from your work until someone knocked at your door. Blinking, you sat up straight for the first time in far too long, judging by how much your back ached. Groaning softly, you stood and opened the door.

And blinked up into a very familiar golden visor. 

“Have you eaten?” 

You blinked again, caught off guard by the question. “Uh. Not recently. What time is it?” 

There was a soft huff from under the helmet. “Late,” was the succinct answer. 

“Oops.” You shrugged. “I’ll eat in the morning.”

“Or we can share.” He held up a tray, loaded with a Spartan portion of food. It was probably enough for two of you, depending on how hungry he was.

You debated for a moment, and then gave in. “Do you want to come in?” 

He stepped in and waited while you cleared off the table. For a moment you worried about seating, but he just folded himself down to sit on the floor, still tall enough to be fine. 

And then he removed his helmet, leaving it next to him, giving you a moment to observe him. The scars. The brown hair going gray at his temples. The hint of stubble across his chin. 

An entirely new kind of warmth flooded you at the realization that he was quite possibly one of the most handsome men you’d ever met. 

He met your gaze, one eyebrow raised, and you smiled bashfully before dropping your gaze to dinner. 

“Thanks,” you murmured. “For thinking of me.” 

He just nodded, motioning for you to eat. It was a quiet meal but companionable, rather surprisingly so. You didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, and of course John wasn’t going to. 

You leaned back a bit to let him finish, tipping your head back to look up at the ceiling. You definitely felt better now, hadn’t even realized you were hungry until you weren’t. 

“John?” 

He didn’t speak but he did blink at you, eyes bright. 

You shuffled around the table, moving slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop you if he wanted. But he didn’t, just watching, even as you sat up on your knees in front of him and leaned in slowly, carefully, until your lips landed delicately on his jaw. You felt a little shudder go through him. 

“I’ll see you in the morning?” 

He nodded slowly, though he didn’t move yet. He seemed to be debating something, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. You gave him time to decide. 

But you were not prepared for him to descend on you, kissing you with a fervor you hadn’t expected. Your gasp was muffled, his answering groan barely even audible. 

And then the armor clanged into your table and very nearly sent it skittering. You pulled back first with a huffed laugh, smiling. 

“I hope you’ll want to do that again,” you murmured. “Preferably without armor, next time.”

His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Affirmative,” he rumbled. He stood, gathering up the empty tray and accepting the helmet when you handed it up to him. “Good night.”

“Good night, John.” You leaned in the doorway watching him go before abruptly realizing how twitterpated you must look. Then you closed the door and went to bed.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x8, Let The Games Begin. Part 5 (Richard Gilmore Has A Slutty Past)

Heh, they did the thing where they say the title of the episode inside the episode again.

Goody. Our fearsome foursome is off to Yale. *drinks heavily* Emily won't allow Lorelai to bring a sealed thermos of coffee into the car. Frankly I hope Lorelai spills it on her lap and gets a mild scald. It would humble her. Ya know, It's never stated whether Lorelai has alcohol or coffee in the mug, just that Emily is adamant she can't drink liquids in a vehicle. Frankly, I would understand Lorelai's need to self medicate with booze at 9am before a road trip with her parents, but on the other hand, as I stated earlier. She also didn't have to come. She could be home playing Hide the Cocktail Sausage with Dean. We could skip to the part where Rory and Jess smooch at the gas station. Never fear. The next scene that follows, the calm before yet another storm, if you will, turned out to be a highly entertaining and enjoyable romp for me. Enter: Richard Gilmore The Man Whore.

After having already toured Harvard a year ago, Lorelai is still in awe over how many freaking geeks attend large universities. Richard: I spent a lot of time in the Yale art gallery. Emily: I'll say you did. Richard: What is that supposed to mean? Uh oh. Huh. Was this art gallery some kind of idk, hub of intellectual and artistic curiosity slash whorehouse where a young man could go to find sexually liberated artistic chicks for easy pickings? But like, in the 50's? What a concept.

Jess would kick his own ass if they called it that.

Richard GIlmore, you dog.

(you have to imagine Jess is feigning interest/ knowledge in the penis octopus portrait to a young lady or perhaps another bicurious young man and not his uncle) Emily: He was the master of the "Frown, step back, wrinkle, and sigh" Okay, my curiosity is piqued. You got me. Please explain?

Knowing Richard Gilmore was such a skankbag in college just like Jess is the gift I didn't know I needed today. Jess can do the frown, wrinkle and sigh during a poetry open mic night at the Truncheon, where he takes his latest conquest. Tuesday nights at 8pm. Light refreshments of coffee, potato chips, and chocolate chip cookies will be served.

Be proud of your skanky past, Richard. Your grandaughter's stepcousin sure was of his. RIchard: I'll have you know was happily involved in a very serious relationship when your mother decided she simply had to have me. We were engaged. She had met my parents, invitations were mailed out. Emily: You'll give these girls the wrong impression. Lorelai: That you were the Helena Bonham Carter of the society set? Emily: I did not steal your father, I simply gave him a choice. Richard: When you showed up at my frat party in that blue dress, I had no choice. I know who HBC is but that's another topical early 2000's reference that has escaped me. I guess she was a man stealer of some sort. I"m thinking it must have something to do with Jonny Depp. Anyway, I don't think you have to worry about modeling healthy relationships for Rory or Lorelai. Its too late, the horse has already escaped the barn there. Lorelai: I can't believe you were The Other Woman Emily:This is ridiculous. Lorelai: The other woman should be saying "this is ridiculous" Rory's inner monologue: I want to be just like Grandma when I grow up.

We learn Richard proposed to Emily at Yale next to a trash can, and it seems to be a tradition in the Gilmore family to get proposed to next to a trash can. And in Lorelai's case to reproduce with the trash can, continue to have sex with the trash can over the next two decades and eventually, to marry the trash can.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Interwoven, but Tangled

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: none, little angst, mild cursing

Word Count: 1,670

Summary: The red string of fate connects the pinky of one soulmate to the pinky of the other. Not everyone can see them, but since you had this rare gift you figured it was your duty to make sure as many soulmates found each other. At the very least, you could make sure your friends found their special person. What happens when your best friend’s boyfriend isn’t her soulmate though?

Your world was filled with red. If you unfocused your eyes enough, dissociated deep enough, every single red string came into view. As a kid, you thought this was normal. That everyone could see them. A lot of times you never even brought it up because you didn’t know there was anything unusual going on. People just had little red strings tied on their pinkies that traveled to distances unknown. It wasn’t until the first grade that you realized nobody else could see them, and it wasn’t until seventh grade that you realized the strings even connected.

A girl in your math class with a red string around her pinky connected to a boy in your english class. They started dating two months into the school year and it was the first time you saw an entire string, from beginning to end.

The red string of fate connecting soulmate to soulmate.

Growing up, it made you view love a little differently. For one, you noticed many times couples who were together weren’t one another’s soulmate. They weren’t any less happy, but their strings were cast in opposite directions. You kind of wondered what the point of a soulmate was if they were never bound to find one another. Why would fate create two people, perfect for one another, and then keep them apart?

The times you did see soulmates get together though… God, it was magic. A good friend at work had a string that connected to a bartender at the local watering hole you frequented, and you made it your mission in life to get them together. When your work friend, Carol, finally met the bartender, a woman who called herself Valkyrie, it was like literal fireworks. It’s why anytime you saw strings close to one another you made it you job to help them find one another.

So far, in the entirety of Manhattan, you had managed to string together seven couples. None of which were your own red string. In fact, you had kind of pushed your own string to the back burner. If it happened, it happened. You couldn’t get obsessed with searching the world for the end of your own string. It’d drive you to madness.

“Ten bucks this guy says he works as a ‘blogger’,” Carol snickered before taking another sip of her drink. One plus of getting your friend together with her bartending soulmate was free drinks at your favorite bar.

Valkyrie shrugged, “Twenty bucks that someone,” She shot you an amused look, “‘spills her drink on him accidentally’.”

“Hey,” You held your beer bottle out to her, “That was an accident. It was pure coincidence that I also hated the guy. Sharon deserves better.”

“Sharon works as an agent for the FBI.” Carol raised an eyebrow at you, “I think she can handle intimidating the duds she picks up.”

It was true. Sharon Carter was more than capable of destroying any man that screwed her over, but your close friend always had a blind eye when it came to men. Plus, her string ended somewhere in this damn city. It was bright enough that you knew that much, but you had yet to find her soulmate. If you were lucky then maybe she’d walk through the door tonight with a string connected to whoever she was bringing.

As if on cue, the door swung open with the familiar chime and your blonde friend strolled in confidently. She still had her work clothes on, and you could see her gun holster under her jacket.

“Long time, no see.” Sharon greeted with a grin. She gave the other two quick smiles before grabbing the stool beside you. “How have you guys been?”

Carol shook her head, “Cut the shit, Carter. I wanna see the dud of the night.”

“Hey,” Sharon replied, “This one isn’t a dud. He’s actually a good one.” The three of you gave her skeptical looks that she rolled her eyes at. She took the drink that Valkyrie slid to her. “I’m serious. I met him at work.”

Valkyrie chuckled, “Great, she’s dating a criminal.”

“Not like that.” Sharon argued. “He’s a therapist.”

Carol grinned, “Oh, good! We’ve been telling you to see one. Granted, we meant professionally and not sexually.”

You, Carol, and Valkyrie laughed while Sharon just nodded her head along with an amused grin. She took a quick sip of her beer, “Hey, get it all out now. I want you guys to be nice to him and not scare him off.”

“We’re sweethearts. I don’t know what you mean.” You shrugged innocently.

Sharon gave you a deadpanned look, “Yeah, okay, I remember the ‘beer spill’ quite well, thanks.”

You chuckled, “Where is this guy?”

“Parking the car. He should be in any—oh!” Sharon turned when the door opened. Your eyes drifted to the tall, black man who came into the room. He was fit, that was easy enough to see with the tight gray t-shirt he wore, and he had a brown leather jacket over that. His dark eyes drifted over the crowded area before landing on all of you at the bar.

Carol let out a low whistle.

Valkyrie clapped her hands.

Sharon rose to greet him with a kiss.

And, you, well, you couldn’t stop staring at the red string on his pinky that led straight back to your little group. It didn’t connect to Sharon though. No. It connected to you.

“Guys, this is Sam Wilson.” Sharon introduced, her arm around his torso while he rested his on her shoulders. She went on to introduce all of you, but her voice sounded far away.

Carol and Valkyrie both greeted him and shook his hand while your wheels spun in your head. This wasn’t happening. Oh, no. You were not prepared for this in any way, shape, or form. You had been paying so much attention to the red strings around you that you didn’t even notice how bright your own had been.

Sam, you apparent soulmate and best friend’s boyfriend, greeted you by name with a smile that literally made you weak in the knees. He offered his hand to you, and it took a couple seconds for your brain to figure out how to act human again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yupp.” You replied stiffly and let go of his hand as quick as you could without looking like a bitch.

Valkyrie had to step away to serve another customer, but Carol was more than happy to lead the inquisition. She crossed her legs and leaned on the bar with one elbow while motioning to him with her drink, “So, what do you do for work, Wilson?”

“I work with the VA. Lead a few groups. Mostly PTSD and anxiety based.” Sam nodded. He tilted his head toward Sharon, “I also am not a blogger of any kind, I do not live in my mom’s basement, I don’t have seven cats, and I am not the leader of a small time cult.” He grinned. “I think that covers all the bases Sharon has hit before?”

Sharon lightly elbowed him in the side, and Carol nodded, “You married?”

“I am not.” Sam nodded.

“Then yeah I think that covers it.” Carol shrugged. She turned to you, “You got anything?”

“N—Nope.” You cleared your throat. Your eyes couldn’t stop darting down to the string neatly tied around his pinky finger. Were you hyperventilating? It felt like you were hyperventilating a little. “Can you excuse me?”

Without waiting for an answer, you hurried past them to step outside into the cool night air. It helped. Marginally. Only a few moments passed before Sharon stepped out to check on you. She set a hand on your shoulder, “You good?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” You lied. “Weird day at work.”

“Alright. I’m here if you need to talk about it.” Sharon offered, but you just shook your head, reassuring her that you were fine. She gave you a small smile and nudged you with her hip, “So, first thoughts on Sam? I did good right?”

Nobody knew about your sights. It was a weird topic to bring up to someone, so you had always kept it to yourself. It was one of the things that made this entire situation so much harder. You couldn’t even explain to Sharon what was going on. Even if you could… should you? Sharon looked happy. Honest to God happy and a part of you felt sick at the thought of ruining that. They weren’t soulmates though. Her soulmate was someone else, but… how did you explain that at all without looking like the bitch who just wanted to take her best friend’s new boyfriend.

“Yeah. He’s…He’s great.” You said softly.

“I have a really good feeling about this one.” Sharon looped her arm through yours. “I know it’s new, but… thanks. You’ve always looked out for me on the romantic front, and if it weren’t for you, I’d still be with one of the idiots I used to date.”

You nodded, “Of course.”

“And hey,” Sharon winked at you, “He’s got cute friends. Maybe it’s time I repay the favor?”

This was new. You didn’t even know Sam very well. For all you knew, this would fizzle out fairly quickly or maybe you’d be the exception and not even get along with your supposed soulmate. You hadn’t seen it before, but maybe the red strings could be wrong? It definitely wasn’t worth torpedoing your friendship with Sharon though. Not right now.

You gave her a tight smile, “Sounds great. Let’s go back in, huh?”

“Yeah. Hey, you’re really gonna like Sam. You guys actually have a lot in common.” Sharon commented offhandedly while dragging you back inside. You swallowed the lump in your throat nervously. You could do this. You could definitely do this. As you stepped back into the building, Sam’s eyes glanced over at the both of you with a small smile. You steeled your nerves and smiled back. How hard could it be, resisting your soulmate? Screw the red strings of fate.

Your best friend was more important.

[next chapter]

[wanderingmind867]

My Take on Booster Gold (Michael Jon Carter):

Michael Jon Carter is from Edmonton. But I get really bogged down in backstory. So let me just stick to the relevant changes I'd make to the character for my interpretation:

Booster Gold starts as an anti-hero or villian. Deep in the hole with gambling debts and needing to save himself and his family from the criminals he's angered, Michael Jon Carter decides on an impulsive whim to steal a high tech power suit from a laboratory where he's working as an assistant. He decides to take on a persona as a superhero, both so that he can help people and also so that he can gain the public's trust and then have easy access to banks and stuff, so he can steal the money to get himself out of the hole.

He gets away with it for a while, but eventually he's caught in the act by the Blue Beetle (I'll think of a reason for him being in Edmonton later). Embarrassed and under intense pressure, Michael breaks down and tells Blue Beetle everything. About his gambling debt, about his family, about how he didn't mean for it to come to this, etc. And this is what leads to Booster Gold and Blue Beetle's friendship. Together, they break up the underground gambling ring and clear Booster's debt. Ted Kord even shares his secret identity with Booster and offers him a job working for Kord Industries, so that he can help provide for his family (and probably also so that he can be close to his new friend).

Despite Blue Beetle and Booster Gold having a bond, the press only reported on Booster Gold being a fake hero who faked being a hero to try and steal from the people. Nobody knows that Booster Gold actually helped take down the gambling ring, and certainly nobody knows about how he only did to protect his family. Everyone just thinks he's a selfish, show-boating menace.

Naturally, this makes it hard for Booster Gold to join the Justice League Canada. He only gets the spot on the team because Blue Beetle vouches for him, and even threatens to walk if booster isn't offered a spot on the team.

My last note on my interpretation of the character: Michael Jon Carter and Booster Gold might as well be two different people. Michael is shy, kind of lonely and very gentle. Booster is bold and full of bluster. He's everything Michael wanted to be, but never felt he could be. For him, Booster Gold is like a persona, a role he steps into. It's exhilarating to be able to speak his mind in a way he never felt he could before.

In fact, Booster Gold even has his own backstory (created by Michael) to really differentiate between his two identities. Michael Jon Carter is "a mild mannered security guard for Kord Industries". Booster Gold is "the man from the 30th Century"! Most people assume he's lying when he says he's from the future (a recurring joke is how offended Michael is whenever people say they don't believe it. He's mad because he put a lot of work into that story!).

The one thing that pretty much only Ted Kord knows is just how different the real Booster Gold is. While everyone thinks he's an arrogant show-off, he's actually a very nice man. He's quiet and shy in his normal life, but I bet nobody would believe you if you told them that.

[graceful-starker]

The Big Three

Summary: The one where Steve is a full idiot, Bucky is half an idiot, and Sam loves them both.

Warnings: jealousy and idiotic choices lol

Rating/WC: M/6506

Notes: There is mild stony in this one, but stony is not the main focus nor the endgame. The endgame of this fic is poly Sam/Steve/Bucky.

This starts off about a year before the main story (Just a Friend and Peter's Boyfriend) but ends about the same time Chapter Two of Peter's Boyfriend ends.

But! It can be read as a standalone fic, as usual.

~~~~

Bucky has spent his entire life liking Steve just a little bit too much. Since they were just kids; maybe before then. One of his very first memories is playing with Steve in the Rogers’ apartment, Christmas tree up in the corner, Steve’s parents dancing to carols and laughing. He had been watching them dancing, laughing, smiling at each other. Even as little as he was, he knew how happy they were and how much they loved each other. And he had looked at Steve and thought, he loved Steve like they loved each other. 

Now that he’s older, he realizes it’s a bit different than he originally thought: Steve makes him happy. Steve feels like home. Steve is associated in his mind with everything Bucky associates with love. 

As they were growing up together, Bucky went through a range of realizations and assumptions, some of which he’s since grown from and some which stuck. As he grew a bit older, he realized he can’t love Steve, because Steve is a boy and he’s a boy and that isn’t allowed. Then he couldn’t love Steve, because even if it was allowed, Bucky likes girls. He likes dating girls, he likes kissing them, he likes making them laugh the same way Mr. Rogers always makes Mrs. Rogers laugh. 

Then he realized maybe he liked boys too, and maybe he loved Steve. But then Steve was dating a girl from his church named Peggy Carter, and they’d been dating a long time and Steve called her his girl. 

And they danced to Christmas carols and he made her laugh and when they looked at each other, Steve got this sparkle in his eyes and Bucky knew he loved her. And Bucky wanted to be jealous, he wanted to hate her and wanted her to fuck right off; but she made Steve smile and Bucky loves when Steve smiles. He couldn’t make himself feel jealous no matter how hard he tried. 

Of course, now he knows they didn’t last. They were just high school sweethearts; they loved each other while it lasted, but then Peggy got a scholarship to a university in England and she moved away and Steve was bittersweet about it. He knew the long distance wouldn’t work for them, but he was sad it was over. They called it quits the August they had to go off to their respective colleges, but they were still smiling and Steve let her go with the promise of one more dance, sometime down the road. 

Then he told himself, he can’t love Steve because Steve is heartbroken and he misses Peggy and even if Steve did want to be with Bucky, which he doesn’t, Bucky isn’t sure he’ll ever really measure up to Steve’s first love. 

And then Steve got over it, and he came out to Bucky as bi, and Bucky realized: he might have a chance. If Steve liked guys, and he could maybe like Bucky, maybe Steve would be willing to try dating Bucky. 

But Bucky tried; he flirted and he hinted and one day he finally asked if Steve was interested in dating, and he had said I dunno, Buck. Maybe if I meet someone I really like, again. And then Bucky knew. Even if Steve liked guys, he didn’t like Bucky. Not romantically, anyway. 

But that was fine, for Bucky. He still loved Steve, and they’re still best friends, and that’s enough. They’ll never dance to carols in the Christmas tree lights, and they’ll never laugh in each other’s arms, and Steve will never look at him with that sparkle in his eye. But Steve will laugh beside him, and he’ll show Bukcy his drawings when he won’t show anyone else, and he’ll tell Bucky all his deepest secrets. And that’s enough. 

Bucky had still been getting used to the lack of hope in his chest for Steve, when they started their spring semester of Steve’s freshman and his sophomore year. They had signed up for the same psych class, and they had gotten there early so they could steal the desks in the back right of the classroom like always. 

And then a boy sat next to Bucky, and grinned at him. “Were you in anthropological theory last semester, with Dr. Pace?”

Bucky had blinked, turning to face the boy and see if he could remember him. “Yeah, I was,” he had said, still trying to recognize him.

“I had the class in that classroom right before your class started,” the boy had said, and pulled out his notebook. “I saw you sometimes, because you would always get there early.”

Bucky had smiled at him, offering his hand. “I guess it was fate,” he started. “I’m James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Sam Wilson,” the boy had introduced, taking Bucky’s hand. “So are you an anth major or a psych major?”

Bucky had laughed, because it had been funny to him at the time. “History major, actually. What about you?”

Sam’s eyes had lit up with interest, and he had turned his whole body to Bucky. Steve was shifting beside Bucky in boredom, but Bucky didn’t wanna be rude. “I’m a psych major and anth minor. I guess you beat me, though, unless the anth class was for humanities credit?”

“Beat you?” Bucky had asked, but he had felt like Sam stole all his breath when he smiled. “I’m a double minor, anth and psych.”

“Yeah!” Sam had said, leanings towards Bucky. “You got two minors, you beat me. Plus you’re a history major, so I guess you like people even more than I do.”

“Bucky,” Steve had whispered, and Bucky had felt bad. 

“Oh, this is my best friend, Steve,” Bucky had said, reluctantly turning away from Sam to smile at Steve. He leaned back in his chair so they can see each other. “He’s a psych major too, for now,” Bucky had said. Steve really wanted to be an art major, but Sarah wouldn’t approve. 

Sam had watched Bucky talk, but he had turned to look at Steve and his smile had disappeared. “You!” he had said loudly, pointing. “You’re the guy that always passes me when I run in the mornings! You’re ‘on your left’ guy!”

Steve’s face had turned bright red, but he had puffed his chest out proudly. “I didn’t know I had earned a nickname, but sure,” he had said, his own smile forming. “Now I can say your name when I pass you, at least.”

Sam had scoffed, scooting closer to them both and grinning. “Nah, nah, now it’s personal. Now I know you. Now I gotta beat you.”

“Not gonna happen,” Steve had argued, and Bucky had forgotten how to breathe for a second. He liked both of their smiles so much, liked the way Sam had a gap in between his teeth and he liked the way Steve’s dimples popped only if he was smiling wide enough. “I’m on the track team, and they’re even talking about making me captain next year even though I’m a freshman.”

“Oh, it’s personal now,” Sam had said, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re on.”

And just like that, they became a trio. They ran in the mornings; Steve usually lapping them while they laughed and struggled to keep up. They studied for tests together, they went to parties together, they even ate most of their meals together. They made new friends together; found a larger friend group together. 

They did things separately too, of course. Bucky and Sam studied for and talked about their anthropology classes without Steve. Steve and Sam race alone sometimes. Bucky and Steve share a dorm room together without Sam. 

Bucky falls in love with Sam alone. He falls in love with his laugh, with the way he throws his head back and laughs as loud as he wants without worrying about what anyone around them is thinking. He falls in love with Sam’s smile, and the gap between his teeth, and the way tilts his head when Bucky or Steve say something he finds especially amusing. He falls in love with the way Sam argues with him, the way they can bicker for days straight but know it’s all in good fun. He loves the way Sam talks about the things he’s passionate about, loves the way he can go hours straight ranting about a subject if Bucky goads him on. He loves how Sam talks about flying when he gets high, and the way he’ll hold his arms out as if the wind could take him away if he wished hard enough. 

He gets confused alone; because he thought finding someone else to love would free him from his prison of unrequited love for Steve, but he doesn't love Steve any less. He doesn’t feel like he’s over Steve, doesn’t feel any less affection for the blond. He still wants to kiss Steve and make him laugh, and Steve’s smile still knocks the breath out of him.

He’s scared to do anything about any of it, because he doesn’t want to risk losing either of them. They’re his best friends, and that’s enough for Bucky   

~~~

The only reason Sam has waited as long as he has to ask out the man who’s captured his attention for half a year is because he thought he was in a situationship. He had tried to hit on Bucky the first time he worked up the nerve to actually say something to him, but then the blond beside him had interjected himself into the conversation. 

Now, of course, he thinks their both his best friends. He doesn’t feel the initial flair of irritation he had the first time he laid eyes on Steve Rogers. But he had backed off, like the good friend he is, to let their seemingly inevitable coupling happen. 

But it’s been a whole semester and the whole summer and a few weeks after that, and neither of them have made a move on the other. So, Sam decided: why not? The worst that can happen is that Bucky rejects him, and they can both go back to pretending it never happened.

Besides, he thinks Bucky likes him, too, anyway. He looks at Sam the same way he looks at Steve, and he gets that same dumb smile on his stupidly pretty face when he looks at the both of them. 

The final straw was after Parker did that dumb quiz at the goading of everyone else. Some of the questions made Bucky look at him, and he had been looking right back. And other than the singular awkward comment from Steve about secrets, he didn’t do anything else. He had even gone to sit next to Parker after the quiz, leaving him and Bucky alone on the loveseat. It may as well have been permission. 

Just to be safe, Sam still waited a couple weeks, just in case the pair were simply working up the nerve. But Steve didn’t make a move, and neither had Bucky. So that’s how he finds himself here, in Bucky and Steve’s apartment while Steve is in one of his art classes. 

“What’s up?” Bucky asks, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him. 

Sam grins and sits next to Bucky, bumping wrists with him. “Nothing much, how’s it going with you?”

“Fine,” Bucky says, turning his attention to the TV where some rerun is muted. “I’m a little worried about the anth paper due tomorrow, but I don’t really have anything else going on.”

Sam nods, tapping his hands on his legs anxiously. He opens his mouth to say something, and then coughs into his fist instead. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks, turning his attention to Sam.

Sam nods, scratching the back of his head before sighing. He felt so confident before coming over here, he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all the sudden. “Yeah, I’m just. I uh. I have something to tell you.”

Bucky grabs the remote and turns the TV all the way off, turning to face Sam fully. “Okay. You can tell me anything, Sam.”

Sam smiles, feeling more confident again already. He’s sure that Bucky likes him back, at least as much as he likes Steve. “Bucky…I wanted to tell you that I like you.” He looks away for a second, before smiling again. “And I wanna date you, if that’s something you wanted.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, and he swallows thickly. “Really? You like-you like me? Me?”

Sam smirks, turning to face Bucky fully. “Yeah, Buck. I like you.”

Bucky has a smile growing on his lips, and he ducks his head shyly. “I…I like you too.”

Sam laughs softly, because they’re like a couple of schoolgirls admitting to their first crush. He would find it ridiculous, except it’s hard for him to find anything Bucky does ridiculous. “So, you’ll go out with me?”

Bucky bites his lip, sighing and leaning away from Sam. “I want to go out with you, but I have to tell you something first.”

Sam quirks a brow, scooting closer. “What is it?”

“I do like you,” Bucky starts, smiling at Sam again. “I whole lot. But I also-I also like Steve. I know that’s a little…” He trails off, fidgeting and looking away again. 

Sam only shrugs, putting a hand on Bucky’s knee. “I know you do. I don’t mind it, if you don’t.”

Bucky blinks, frowning at him. “No, I mean…romantically. Like, how I like you.”

“I know,” Sam says, a fond grin settling on his face. Bucky’s eyes flit down to see it, before looking back up at Sam’s eyes. “You can like Steve too, I don’t mind. I want to date you, I want you to be my boyfriend. But if it doesn’t work out, I want you to be my friend more. We can always go back to being just friends, I won’t have any hard feelings.”

Bucky looks confused, but he finally nods, smiling. “I want to date you too.” He scoots closer, looking back down at Sam’s lips before looking back up. “And I want to kiss you.”

Sam smirks, leaning in until their lips are almost touching. “Then kiss me.”

Bucky leans forward the last little bit, connecting their lips and moving one hand up to cup the back of Sam’s neck. 

It’s everything Sam ever thought it would be. He pulls Bucky closer, ducking his head for a better angle. Bucky’s hand tightens on the back of his neck and it sends a shiver down his spine, makes him want to get that much closer. So he does; until his folded right leg is practically in Bucky’s lap and they’re as close as this angle will allow. 

Bucky moves his free hand up Sam’s chest until it cups Sam’s jaw, and Sam leans into it, improving the angle of their kiss in the process. Sam’s hands wander, one finding a home in Bucky’s long hair and the other gently fisting the front of Bucky’s shirt to keep him close. 

Sam is the one to pull away first, his head feeling dizzy after such a perfect kiss. He laughs breathily, giddy, and Bucky echos the sentiment. “Woah,” he whispers finally, his breath ghosting Bucky’s reddened lips. 

“Woah,” Bucky agrees, his usual smirk confidently in place. “C’mere,” he says, one hand sliding down Sam’s side until it squeezes his hip, gently encouraging Sam closer. “I wanna do it again.”

Sam laughs, because Bucky is just so…Bucky. But he does, he gets up on one knee and slings his left leg around Bucky’s hip so he can rest on Bucky’s thigh. He doesn’t really feel shy, per se, but the way Bucky is looking at him right now makes him feel some type of way. He’s hooked up with people since Riley, but it’s been so long since someone liked him like this. He could get used to it, he thinks. “Well?” he prompts, a grin in his voice. “You gonna kiss me again or what?”

And oh, he does. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, Sam can’t really remember. All he knows is that it felt good to kiss Bucky Barnes, and to sit in his lap, and to feel up his abs and let Bucky feel him over in turn. They only stopped kissing because Steve’s keys were jiggling in the lock, and neither of them want to deal with that just yet. So Sam had given him one more soft kiss, grinning at him in promise, before sliding off of Bucky’s lap and settling on the other end of the couch just in time for the door to swing open. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says, the TV turning on and remaining mute just in time. “How was class?”

“Good,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and locking it. “We were- hey Sam- working on shading today, and that’s always my favorite part.” Sam waves at him, and Steve smiles and nods back. He looks to the TV, making a face. “Why are you watching Friends on mute?”

“Really, really bored,” Bucky answers, shooting Steve that dazzling smirk that turns anyone who sees it’s stomach into butterflies. Or maybe Sam is biased; but Steve is not unaffected either. “Plus, I’m supposed to be working on a paper, and if I keep it on mute then I’m not technically procrastinating.”

Steve blinks slowly, brain whirring to try and follow the non-existant logic. “That makes no sense at all, Buck.” He hangs up his coat and makes his way towards the kitchen. 

Bucky shrugs, waits for Steve to be out of sight before turning his smile to Sam. 

Sam smiles right back at him, getting lost in those gorgeous blue eyes. Fuck, they may be able to not tell Steve, but Steve is going to figure it out eventually if they keep this up. And Sam, for one, doesn’t want this to stop.

~

It was perfect. Okay, it wasn’t perfect; the movie they went to see sucked ass and the popcorn had been stale. But they had fun whispering about it and making fun of it, and the ice cream they got after was delicious, and Bucky had taken Sam home and kissed him at the door. 

Sam almost invited him in, but they aren’t there yet and Sam is enjoying taking it a bit slow. He wants to enjoy the puppy-love stage while it last; enjoy the novelty of it, enjoy the secrecy from their friends. 

And now they’re walking hand in hand around campus, killing time together. Steve has a class that doesn’t let out for another 45 minutes, and then the three of them are supposed to eat lunch together. 

“I like when the weather is like this,” Bucky says, soft, like he doesn’t want to burst the bubble of happiness their enveloped in. “Cooling off but not cold yet.”

Sam hums his agreement, pointing at a tree in the middle of the courtyard. “I like when the leaves start changing color but they haven’t fallen yet. ‘S pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” Bucky mumbles, and Sam laughs at him, swatting his arm playfully. “Let’s sit under it, no one else is over there.”

Sam hums, already leading them over. “You’re just full of good ideas, babe.”

“I try,” Bucky snarks, sitting in between two roots and pulling Sam down to sit in between his legs. Sam is half facing Bucky and half facing away, one leg over Bucky’s left thigh and one under Buck’s bent knee. “Comfy?”

“Hmm,” Sam says, grinning up at him. “Pretty comfy. A little chilly.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but takes the hint, wrapping his arms around Sam and pulling him just a bit closer. Sam sighs happily and rests his head under Bucky’s chin, shifing a bit to make the angle work better. “Warmer?” Bucky teases. 

“Much better,” he agrees, kissing Bucky’s collarbone gently. 

Bucky laughs softly, gently rests his chin on the top of Sam’s head. One hand rubs at Sam’s arm soothingly, and Sam curls his hands around Bucky’s arm in front of him. “You’re more cuddly than I thought you would be,” he says after a while.

Sam snorts, pulls back to look up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, kissing Sam’s nose. “Not complaining or anythin’, just saying.” He sits with it for a second, and then shrugs. “I guess you’ve always been pretty touchy with everyone, I just didn’t-didn’t take you for a cuddler.”

Sam rolls his eyes, kissing Bucky’s chin and leaning further away after. “You should stop talking. Put that mouth to better use.”

Bucky grins and wiggles his eyebrows, making Sam laugh before he shuts the both of them up by kissing Sam. Sam’s breath is still hitching with residual laughter, but he’s very quickly distracted by Bucky’s lips, Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s chest against his shoulder. 

Sam pulls away first again, because it’s like Bucky can hold his breath forever or something, jeez, and smiles at Bucky. “I-”

Bucky had been looking at him, but then his eyes flit above Sam’s shoulder and his smile disappears. “Uh oh,” he mumbles, but he doesn't sound very distressed. 

Sam turns around, tries to follow his line of sight. “What?” he asks, surveying the area. Then he sees him; Steve, cheeks pink and eyes wide. “Oh. Uh oh,” Sam mimics. Steve turns on his heel and starts walking far too quickly to be considered normal, and Sam sighs. “Well, that didn’t last very long.”

Bucky shrugs, and it feels weird around Sam’s shoulders. “He was gonna find out eventually, I guess. I wonder why he left instead of giving us shit.”

Sam looks at Bucky, unimpressed, but he doesn’t look like he’s fucking with Sam. He’s looking after Steve, lost in thought. But he isn’t racing to get up, to chase after him; no, he’s content to stay here, with Sam in his arms, just wondering. 

Sam is starting to piece together that Bucky doesn’t know Steve likes him back. Everyone knows Steve likes Bucky back, how can Bucky possibly be this oblivious. “If you wanna go talk to him-”

“Nah,” Bucky says instantly, smiling back down at Sam. “Let him figure out what he’s feeling before we ask him, I’ve learned that the hard way too many times growing up.”

Sam shrugs, moving one hand up to cup the back of Bucky’s neck. “Okay. Then, you should kiss me some more,” he unsubtly hints.

Bucky smiles, and Sam’s heart skips a beat, and oh, this is trouble. This feels an awful lot like falling love.  

~~~

Steve has a lot of friends, and his best friends are Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. But he can’t talk to them about this, right now; mostly because this is about them.

He quickly goes through the list of people he would be willing to talk about this with. He likes Thor a whole lot, but he wouldn’t be much help here. Bruce told Steve once, when they were high at some get together, that Thor called Bruce stupid for messing around with Nat. Steve doesn’t need to be told he’s stupid right now; he knows he’s stupid. 

He doesn’t want to talk to Bruce either. Bruce is either high, angry, or he’s depressed and all three of those versions of Bruce are not very good at cheering people up. 

Wanda and Vis wouldn’t be any help at all, as much as he loves them. Wanda would just pity him and Vis would talk about how life is more than watching other people live it or some deep shit like that, probably. 

Him and Rhodey aren’t close like that, and he wouldn’t care about Steve’s turmoil even if they were. Steve always has the feeling that Rhodey likes maybe two whole people other than Tony Stark, and everyone else he tolerates. A couple psych classes together isn’t enough to get Steve on that list. 

He thinks about going to Peter, because Peter is a good friend and he’s always willing to listen and offer advice to his friends. But Peter might be too nice, and Steve really needs to figure out what the fuck is happening inside his head, even if it isn’t nice. 

That pretty much leaves Natasha, who Steve should have thought about first. She’s probably his best friend outside of Bucky and Sam, her snark and charm making him like her easily. And she likes him too, for some reason, choosing him to talk to about her struggles with Bruce and Clint. Maybe it’s time she returns the favor. 

Except for, by the time Steve gets there, he can hear her and Clint going at it through the door. Something about always doing this, and never listening, and whatnot. He knocks on the door, hears Clint loudly ask if her other boyfriend is here, wishes he could take the knock back. Natasha huffs so loud he can hear it through the door, and it’s almost a growl. She opens the door with a murderous glare on her face. “What?”

“Uh,” Steve starts, catches Clint’s eye over Nat’s shoulder. “Well, I was hoping I could talk to you about something, but it seems like a bad time…”

“I was just leaving,” Clint mumbles, hands in his pockets. 

“No you weren’t” Nat hisses, looks over her shoulder at him. “This isn’t over, you aren’t off the hook yet.” Clint rolls his eyes at her, crosses his arms over his chest. She huffs and looks back at Steve, jaw working angrily. “It is a bad time, actually. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Steve swallows thickly, nods once. “Uh…” he looks to Clint, who tilts his head at Steve with a tired smile on his face. Nat is lucky Clint is such a dick about her feelings, or he would have left her a long time ago. “Right, okay. Call me later.” 

The door is shut in his face, and Nat doesn’t even walk away from it before starting her screaming again. Embarrassing me this, walking away from me that. It would be humbling, how little his relationship problems seem to be in comparison to hers, if his problems weren’t still bothering him.

He doesn’t want to talk to Tony. He half hates the guy with his careless attitude and daddy’s money, but Tony is nothing if not brutally honest. And, Steve has run out of people to talk to, really. Plus, Steve remembers, Tony is having relationship issues as well. Kind of. And friendship issues. Is anyone in their group still talking to Tony, actually? Nat, probably. Tony could never say anything mean enough to her to scare her off; she has thick skin. His apartment is closest to Nat’s anyways. 

He’s already there before he’s decided if he’s going, and he takes a deep breath before knocking. Tony answers after long enough that Steve was considering knocking again, a scowl on his face. “Rogers,” he greets. 

“Stark,” Steve says, cocking his head to the side. “Can I come in?”

Tony narrows his eyes at the blond. “Why?”

Steve rolls his eyes, fights the surge of irritation. “Jesus, Tony, will you just let me in? What, are you expecting someone? New girl-of-the-week?”

Tony scoffs, but he opens the door wider and steps to the side. “No, I just don’t like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, pal,” he mumbles as he steps inside, letting Tony lock the door behind him. “But you’re honest and you don’t give a shit about my feelings, and I need help figuring out my head.”

Tony laughs at that, almost genuine, eyebrows in his hair. “You want me to help you figure out your head? I can’t even figure out my own head, pal.”

Steve rolls his eyes, paces the living room floor. “I think I might be in love with Bucky,” he says instead of answering.

“Okay,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that all? Took you long enough to realize that one.”

Steve makes a frustrated noise. “I saw him kissing Sam. I think they’re together.”

Tony snorts, piecing together the irony quickly, and shakes his head. “What, am I the expert of unrequited love, now? On waiting too long and missing your chance? Fuck off.”

Steve sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why did I even come here, you’re never any help. To anyone. Ever.”

Tony laughs, mean, cocks his head to the side. “What did you want me to say, Rogers? What were you expecting from me?”

“I don’t know!” Steve says, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I don’t know how to feel, and I don’t know what to do now. All I know is that I just figured out I’m in love with my best friend because I saw him kissing my other best friend and realized I want that.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Tony asks, his voice lower than it was a second ago. “Like you said, I’m not known for my emotional intelligence, or my stellar friendship.” He steps closer, and Steve stops pacing to look at him. Tony takes another step, and another, until they’re only inches apart. “That’s not my reputation,” Tony says, almost a purr, and his hand lands on Steve’s chest.

Steve feels his breath quicken, and he stares at Tony incredulously. “I want-I wanted you to…”

“Hmm?” Tony asks, lifting his palm so just his fingers are on Steve’s chest. Then he moves them down, down and down and down, and Steve half wants to yell at him and slap his hand away and half wants Tony’s hand to keep going, to not stop where he does at Steve’s belt. Tony’s fingertips hook under the belt just so, and his smirk is somehow both mean and inviting all at once. “What do you want?”

“Don’t,” Steve whispers, even if he doesn’t really want Tony to stop. His brain is too foggy for this, all of his emotions are swirling around inside and confusing him. 

Tony’s hand leaves his body, but he doesn’t step away. He simply cocks his head to the side, staring up at Steve in challenge. “I’m not going to talk about your feelings, Stevie. You know that; so what do you want from me?”

“I thought…” Steve licks his lips, watches Tony’s eyes follow the movement. “I thought you said you were straight,” he asks, buying himself time.

“Do you want me to fuck you or not, Rogers?” Tony asks, and Steve is startled by the vulgarity. 

And by how much he suddenly does, in fact, want to sleep with Tony. 

Steve steps closer, and Tony has to tilt his head up a bit to look at Steve. His eyes are pretty when he isn’t wearing his glasses, a deep brown that’s warm and inviting even if the look Tony is giving him is cold and calculating. “This isn’t a good idea,” Steve whispers, hands twitching at his sides. 

Tony smirks, then, reaches up with one hand to cup the back of Steve’s neck. It isn’t forceful or pushing; just there, just encouraging. “I’m full of bad ideas, baby,” he purrs. 

~

It’s hitting Steve all at once how completely he’s fucked up. Even more than he originally thought he messed up, before he talked with Peter. Before he thought he had messed up as much as possible by sleeping with Tony. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s aware that sleeping with someone he kind of hates isn’t a great idea. Doing so because he’s jealous of Sam and Bucky is worse. Sleeping with a guy that his friend kind of-sort of has a claim on is even worse. But telling Peter about it is by far the worst part about his astronomical fuck up. 

He had been thinking that, if it were him, he would want to know. He would want to have been told, if Sam and Bucky had just told him instead of making him watch them flirt and-

But that’s different, because Steve isn’t dating anyone new. He isn’t trying to move on, and Bucky and Sam aren’t treating him like shit. It’s so obviously a different situation that Steve wonders how he could be so self centered as to not see it.

His mother would be so disappointed in him. 

To be fair, everything about Steve’s life right now would make her disappointed. The only thing he has going for him right now is that he’s actually enrolled in college and getting good grades. Maintaining his scholarships. That’s it. 

God, he has to see her in a couple weeks for fall break. He has to face her and look into her eyes and lie through his teeth about his entire life. 

Steve rubs a hand over his face, leg bouncing rapidly. He’s just staring out the window right now, fighting the urge to grab himself a drink from the fridge. He doesn’t want to use it as a crutch like that.

Sometimes he’s jealous of his friends, like Vis and Tony. Their parents are rich, sure, and he is jealous of that; he’s more jealous that they know they’re parents don’t like them. Steve is stuck in this in between area where they like him; but would they, if they knew who we really was?

Would they still love him if they knew he left the church? If they knew he liked guys? If they knew he was an art major, if they knew he was going to be an art therapist instead of a 500 an hour one? He wants to know and he doesn’t; because he thinks he knows the answer and he isn’t sure he’ll survive it. He loves his parents, so fucking much, and he doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes as they realize they don’t love him anymore. 

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice rings, making Steve jump a foot in the air and look over his shoulder. “I’m home. Are you here?”

“In here,” Steve calls, smoothing out his pants and pulling his sketchbook closer to himself. He had been half-working on a personal piece, not anything for class. 

Bucky walks around the corner, throwing his keys in the bowl. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve looks away from Bucky, adding a few strands of hair with his pencil. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks after a long pause.

Bucky doesn’t answer for long enough that Steve stops and looks up. When they meet eyes Bucky lets out a loud sigh, rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Wasn’t sure how you would react, really. We only got together a week ago.”

Steve looks away again, deciding to add some more shadows. “You know I’m bi, right? You know I wouldn’t-”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Bucky agrees, shrugging. “Not what I meant.”

Steve runs his finger over the page, blurring the lines until it’s just solid color in the shadows. “What did you mean, then?”

Bucky sighs again, pulls the other chair at the table out and taps his fingers on his thighs. “It’s different than some guy I met someonwhere. It’s Sam. It’s our best friend.”

Steve shrugs, smudging some more shadows under the chin. “As long as you don’t break up, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? Doesn’t affect me at all.”

Bucky scoffs, scratching at the table. “Stop. I know you have thoughts about this, I saw you run away after you saw us- saw us.”

Steve fights down the surge of irritation. Bucky is being reasonable, he tells himself, he just doesn’t want to feel vulnerable. “I don’t care that it’s Sam,” Steve only kind of lies. He does care, but he doesn’t know why. Probably some unreasonable reason, the same reason why he’s mad at Bucky for dating anyone else at all. 

“So why are you mad?” Bucky asks, not taking the hint. Or maybe he knows Steve doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s why he wants to.

Steve sighs, coloring in the pupil some more. “I don’t know. I’m mad you guys didn’t tell me. Your both my best friends, and neither of you-I don’t know. I feel left out.”

“You feel left out of our relationship,” Bucky says, deadpan, and he must be in a bad mood because he’s usually more patient with Steve. 

“Yes,” Steve says, half to be honest and half to piss Bucky off. He looks up, scratching his nose, glares at Bucky. “Asshole. I meant, I’m a third wheel again and I don’t like it. I’ve never liked being your third wheel.”

Bucky looks at him, his face softening. “You aren’t a third wheel, Stevie. You’re still our best friend. And we- Sam and I agreed that if stuff gets awkward or it doesn’t work we’ll just go back to being friends.”

Steve makes a face and looks down, rubbing under his eyes and shifting the page for a different angle. “Fine, then,” Steve mumbles. He scratches his forehead, leaning back in his chair and frowning at the picture. It’s missing something.

Bucky sighs in annoyance. “Don’t be a dick, Steve.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, just as annoyed. He angrily smudges the shadows again, added more and darker streaks with his pencil to intensify them before smudging them out again. He should have brought a q-tip with him. “I told you why I’m upset.”

“I want you-Steve.” Steve rolls his eyes and looks up, scowling. Bucky mades a weird noise in the back of his throat, his breath catching. His eyes soften, and he cocks his head to the side. “You got black on your face, sweetheart.”

Steve blushes pink and rubs at his forehead where he just scratched, scowling at the back of his hand when lead comes off. “Whatever.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, stands up. “This is why I didn’t wanna tell you. Because you get all pouty when something changes.” He goes to the fridge, grabs a beer. “Want one?”

Steve sticks his tongue out at Bucky’s back, before going back to his drawing. “Sure,” he says. “And I don’t pout, I’m not Nat.”

“And I’m not Clint, it won’t work on me,” Bucky retorts, passing the beer. 

Steve grins, feeling the peace slowly be restored. “Whatever,” he says, smoothing out his shadows a bit more. 

Bucky watches him add to the drawing for a few moments in silence, sipping o nhis beer every once in a while. “So, we’re good?”

Steve looks up, scratches the tip of his nose before looking down at his thumb in annoyance. Bucky laughs, and Steve grins, rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” Bucky says. “So I can invite Sam over?”

Steve hums, looking back down at his drawing and trying to figure out what’s missing. “Yeah, sure. Order a pizza, too?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, already pulling his phone out.

[smallcatsims]

Regency Career Pack Part II: Five Base Game Careers

Hi again! I’m back with a few more career replacements. This time I’m replacing five basegame careers: Athletic, Criminal, Medicine (Mild TW for some medical gore and body horror in some chance cards. Goopy entrails and all.), Science, and Slacker.

Credits again to @victoriansimmer, @simbury, @kidinthenight, @morgaine2005, the entire Historical Sims discord, and aysarth. 

Spoilers and more info below the cut, here’s the link:

http://www.simfileshare.net/download/3871453/

More details about the replacements here:

Athletic: Replaced with a mining career. Brainstormed by many of my friends in the Historical Sims discord. Your sim mostly works their way up from being a “Drudge” to a Minor Miner, Middling Miner, Major Miner, etc.. Pretty low pay until your sim starts becoming a Mine Boss and getting involved in the business side of things. Once your sim is a Coal Baron or Diamond Debonair they are raking in the big bucks. Louis Carter in Riverwood Park is a Diamond Debonair and between that income and his wife’s income as a Baroness.. you’ve seen their house, they’re doing quite well. 

Criminal: It’s still a crime career, just more era friendly with lower pay that matches my other careers. Your sim will have pretty low pay as they are a Street Rat, Cutpurse, Highwayman, etc. They will have more decent middle class pay once they get into the higher levels like Smuggling and other organized crime. Chance cards altered to fit the era. 

Medicine: Era friendly medical career. Also inspired by kidinthenight who had listed some of the career levels, though I moved them around and added chance cards and descriptions. Your sim starts out cleaning entrails and robbing graves for medical students, works in an apothecary shop, trains to be a surgeon and eventually maybe attends Smoxford Medical School to become a physician and serve more illustrious clients, perhaps with royal titles? The pay is lower than the maxis career mostly but still fairly decent. Doctors were not the power earners they are today but it was a respectable middle class profession that made a living wage.

Science: Replaced with Church of the Watcher. I really liked this in morgaine2005′s medieval replacements and I know that in the 19th century science was more normalized and not seen as an affront to the watcher, but I wanted a church career and the original replacement I found replaced education, which I wanted to make an actual teacher career to replace that. So this is mostly cobbled together from kidinthenight’s replacement for the education career and aysarths custom church career. The writing style for the adult career is a bit different since it’s mostly not my writing.

Slacker: Replaced with a Pauper career! I love this one. It’s originally made by kidinthenight, I just added the chance cards, some of the descriptions, and I changed Link Boy to lamplighter since Link Boys are more of a medieval thing. This career has very low pay for all ten levels. The top level, tenant farmer, still makes only $165 simoleans. Your sim starts out as a “Tramp” and finally scrounges up a street corner to beg on before doing odd jobs like catching rats, cleaning chimneys and streets, and shining shoes of other sims! Era appropriate chance cards included. 

I hope you enjoy! I’m still working on finishing the other five BG careers as well as the careers from FT and Seasons.

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Secret Valentine's

This is my entry for the event hosted by @writeblrcafe! It was fun doing something like this again :)

This is my gift for @kittrrrr.

Word Count: 1610

---

"Can you cut it out?" Aren snaps, breaking his concentration. The cobalt glow emanating from his calloused palms shrinks to a pinprick. A soft sigh escapes his lips as tension leaves his body. "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm trying to get this done, and if you distract me, it's gonna go wrong. I don't fancy having to deal with another zombie, thanks very much."

Gracie-Mae crouches down. "Why don't we just leave this guy here? It's not like we're getting paid." She unsheathes a jagged dagger with a gleaming topaz embedded into the hilt.

He glances at the limp body in front of him. By all means, Gracie-Mae was right. Nobody was paying them anything. They had no obligation to offer their services. He could just stand up now, say he did what he could. Maybe they could hit the pub on their way back. There was a drink somewhere with his name on it, probably accompanied by bad decisions and a faceless figure in bed with him. Then he'd find Gracie-Mae later on, figure out what he got up to, then move onto the next village.

And yet...

He couldn't just leave this guy here. He probably had a family or something. Not quite old enough for a wife and kids, but maybe a pet? Or he might still live with his parents and siblings. In which case, Aren definitely couldn't just leave this guy.

Cobalt light floods the entirety of his palms as he lays them flat on the man's chest. Aren breathes in, then out, then in again. With each breath, the man's body begins to glow with that same light. He keeps going. In his gut, he feels the familiar tug of a rope and he grabs onto it, following the rope to wherever it shall lead him.

On the other side was an ugly, black mass of gunk latched onto the guy's lung. It pulsates with each breath Aren takes, convoluted green light spilling out from the gaps and spreading towards him. It creaks and groans like an old squeaky door, but moves at an incredible speed. He stamps his foot down on it, wincing in disgust at the atrocious squelching noise it makes in response.

He approaches the black gunk and, with a swift flick of his wrist, causes it to dissipate in an explosion of blue. Aren is yanked back out and into reality. He heaves, leaping to his feet and peering over the man's face.

"Did you do it?" Gracie-Mae whispers. She, too, stares at the corpse in front of them. "He still looks kinda dead."

"Give it a minute."

And, surely enough, there's a quiet groan and two green eyes stare up at the two of them. They're hazy and unfocused, but then the man blinks a few times and his pupils thin. He sits up. The man studies the two of them silently, his expression remaining blank and unreadable. It's mildly surprising; a man dressed this well shouldn't be so good at hiding like this from criminals.

Maybe he's dipped his foot into the criminal world enough times for a few instincts to be ingrained into him.

"Who are you two?" The man's voice is hoarse, as most newly-resurrected people's voices are at first, but sweet. It washes over Aren, coating him in that sickly sweetness. The mild accent there caused inflections on the vowels.

"Aren," He says, holding out his hand. "And that's my sister, Gracie-Mae." The man slowly lifts his shaking hand and takes Aren's, pulling himself up with it. "What's your name?"

The man looks startled at such a question being asked. His eyes go wide, lips parting in thought, and if that isn't just the sweetest thing he'd ever seen. A moment passes, and then he responds, "I'm Carter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Carter." Aren says.

Gracie-Mae rolls her eyes. Her eyes flash with an electric yellow, the air around her crackling and sparking. Carter swallows nervously. She presses her thumb to his forehead and mutters under her breath. Carter winces, then stands up straighter.

"To give you the rundown, here's what happened to you: a guy - drunk, lazy, unimportant - got mad at you for something. I dunno if you owe him money or had an affair with his wife, but he was pissed. He saw you leaving the tavern-" She points at the building behind them- "and got an idea. He whacked you on the head with a broken beer bottle. It wasn't pretty. He hit you a few more times to get the job done." Gracie-Mae pauses. She meets Aren's eyes. "We saw you, and decided to give you a hand."

Carter fumbles for an apology, but Aren cuts him off. "It wasn't easy, mind you. You had this weird thing on one of your lungs I had to get rid of. Real creepy, that thing. But the point is, you're alive and well." He slings his arm around Carter's shoulder and starts to walk him down the street. He glances over his shoulder at Gracie-Mae, and winks. She sighs but lets him go. He knows she'll still be watching.

To his credit, Carter doesn't look uncomfortable or scared at being taken down the street by a complete stranger. In fact, he seems completely relaxed. He walks without a care in the world, like he hadn't been lying on the ground a mere minute or two ago.

"Why'd you bring me back?" Carter asks. "I'm sure there's tons of people that deserve to be brought back more than I do."

Aren shrugs. "You seemed interesting." He left it at that.

Carter gives him an inquisitive look. "But why?"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Look at it this way: you have another chance at life, thanks to yours truly. All I ask is that you don't tell anyone that me or Gracie-Mae were here. Alright?"

"Alright." Carter looks like he wants to ask, but doesn't.

He didn't want to tell Aren the real reason he brought him back, but it was a glaring issue. Every time his eyes drift in that direction, he brings them back to facing forwards. More and more similarities crop up by the second. He isn't happy to admit it, but Carter has his eyes, and his hair was styled the same way he loved. He wore the same sort of clothes as him, and even his voice was similar to his. If he looked at Carter for too long, Carter would cease to be there; in his place, he would stand, arms open and a warm smile on his face as he welcomes Aren home.

They arrive at the place Aren and Gracie-Mae have been holed up in for the past few days, and he ushers Carter inside.

"Your injuries are mostly healed, but not fully," He explains, guiding Carter to a chair and getting him seated. "You'll need time to let them heal before going out."

Carter nods, then shuts his eyes. Aren, rather foolishly, in his opinion, bends down to quickly check Carter's pulse. It is sputtering, stopping and starting at random, but it seems consistent enough. It'll even out after a few more hours.

He just needs to make sure Carter doesn't get injured in that time.

"Well, you're royally screwing us over," Gracie-Mae comments as she slides in through the window. "The guards know where we are now. No thanks to your little stunt."

Aren rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you'd been quieter when I was getting it done, they wouldn't have found out." He shuffles around the dinghy space they call a flat in search of their first aid kit. He pulls it out and returns to Carter's side. The wounds on his body aren't hurting him, but they still need to be cleaned and tended to. Aren cracks on with it as he always has done.

Gracie-Mae falls silent. She normally does, when she wants to vent but has no words to vent with. Aren quickly finishes off tying some of the bandages around Carter's abdomen, then stands up.

"I'll meet you outside later. We can work this out when I'm done."

She relents, and slinks off to a hidden corner, either to sulk or do... whatever it is she does when she's alone. Aren's never around to find out what her hobbies are. For all he knows, Gracie-Mae just stares at a wall for hours. He has no way to know, and if he's honest with himself, he doesn't want to. It's her time to do with what she wants. He doesn't need to know every little thing she gets up to.

Aren stares down at Carter. He examines his work, then his hands glide across Carter's torso, gently adjusting the man so he can see what he's looking for better. A canvas of smooth skin, marred by the occasional blotches or scars or marks. His fingers stutter to a halt when they encounter something so small he almost misses it.

It's a tattoo, barely the size of his thumbnail, and yet so intricate in detail. It's a tiny ram's head, the horns gushing with thorns and petals. The eyes of the ram are hollow, staring up at Aren as if to ask who he was.

A grin overtakes his face. This is unbelievable. Lady Luck is truly on his side. Aren contemplates calling for Gracie-Mae so she can see it for herself, then looks down at Carter's face. He can't bring himself to do it yet. Later down the line, perhaps.

For now, that information was a valuable asset. He'd find an appropriate time to reveal it later.

[lordkingsmith]

Rocky DeSantos canon and oc children

I love Rocky. Utter sweetie. He’s a good boy and deserved the world!! Rocky’s also a bit silly and adorable. He deserves more though lol. He doesn't really ever get a good way to shine, and I hate that. He was more than a joke in his early episodes. the fact he keeps getting treated like a joke now is sad. I do like the fire fighter idea for him, it fits, but...still...you can do that and him being the class clown and it still being done as more than a punchline (Hi, Carter, I'm getting to you) If I’ve missed anyone let me know and I’ll add :)

Canon children:

None that we know of

My oc and alternate reality kids:

Aisha Campbell;

Rocky and Aisha fit well. She gets his humor, he knows how to match her energy and keep her from burning the wick at two ends. So when they got together nobody was remotely surprised. They have two kids, one naturally and one adopted. Landon, aged 12, and Saffie, aged 14.

Landon's been with Rocky and Aisha since he was three, and he's been really happy with them for as long as he can remember. He's a bit of a bookworm, but mostly prefers nonfiction. If he has to read fiction, it's nothing sci fi related. It bothers him too much when they get simple things you can look up wrong. Like what Tenga Warriors look like, or what space ships need for fuel. Or planets earth trades with. He likes spicy food, and birds. He probably knows more about bird related aliens than the average human. Doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up, but he does know he wants a parrot. His parents are trying to convince him to choose a bird with a shorter lifespan. He and his sister have a very kind spirited joking relationship. They don't feel like they aren't actual siblings, and he's as protective of her as he likes being a mild pest to her now and then, and she him. Not associated with a color.

Saffie was a surprise baby. Aisha and Rocky had been trying for a kid for a while at this point, and nobody was sure why it just wasn't happening. When they applied for adoption, Saffie was conceived. They still went through with the adoption, and are glad they did, and Saffie is too. She loves Landon a lot, and they have a fairly healthy sibling relationship. Saffie's not exactly a social butterfly, but she's by no means a wallflower either. She keeps to herself, and likes skateboarding and parkour and rock music. Being able to brag about the fact she knows the Skullovitchs personally and she sometimes gets babysat by Eugene Skullovitch's son? Oh it's amazing. Cheeky, high energy, and knows what she wants in life. She's dancing to the beat of her own drum, and is quite happy doing so. Likes reading poetry, a lot, and diy'ing her own clothes (she is not allowed near bleach dye for her jeans after an incident of not screwing the lid on tightly enough and leaving it on the living room floor. Fabric paint is still okay, though). Rocky and Aisha are a little confused by some of her interests, but then she turns around and is so much like both of them they have to laugh. Saffie's just Saffie. Not associated with a color.

Adam Park;

They make too much sense for anything else, they were best friends since the beginning. They have three kids. They adopted a kid who lost their home in a fire brought on by a monster. Peter's eleven and scared of the world. Adam and Rocky fully understand, but hope he can open up. They care for him and are worried about him. Peter DeSantos doesn't know how to feel about power rangers as parents after what happened, but he's glad Adam and Rocky are stable and they do try. It's just hard to open up. They have time, though, and that's what matters. Adam's been helping with his anxiety by showing him how to sew. Whenever he gets scared and his dads aren't there, he sews little projects. It helps and he's proud of what he makes. Not associated with a color.

tangential au; Rocky and Aisha and Adam are together with all above mentioned kids, and Adam and Aisha's kids. They live on a large ranch and the kids are thriving.

Jason Lee Scott;

Rocky said he thought Jason was cool and wished he could have gotten to know him better so was happy to be on the Zeo team with him. Here, this was meant fully romantically. It took Jason three months to Get It, and when Rocky was no longer blue and the rest of them became turbo rangers. When he was out of the hospital and Jason was mentally recovered from his ordeal at the hands of Divatox, they talked about everything. Slowly and awkwardly. How much Rocky admired Jason, how much he wished they could have been closer friends before Jason left, and Jason congratulating Rocky on being a good red ranger, and a great blue. His Blue.

They’re still active Zeo Rangers, though Jason slid back into red when Tommy got strong armed into retiring by his wife. Eventually, he’s going to give the legacy his youngest daughter, who in turn gives it to Tommy’s grandson, but for now… he and Rocky have it handled.

They have three kids and run a wrestling gym dojo combination. Victoria “V” DeSantos, aged 17, and Bess, aged 13. Kim offered to be the surrogate, as Aisha and Kat and Trini were busy with their own lives and had declined, and Kim was happy to help both times. Plus, Jason wanted the girls to not be bullied over being half siblings. Not that it matters. Nobody bullies the DeSantos sisters.

V isn’t a ranger, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t kicked seven kinds of ass of anything that makes the mistake that just because she looks effeminate must mean she’s not one of the toughest kids and town and took her kickboxing team at school to nationals twice in a row (three times if she can manage; she’s training hard for it). Not the sharpest tool in the box, but she gets there in the end. She’s got a heart of gold and a competitive streak a mile wide. She’s enthusiastic, cheeky, bur don’t get on her bad side. She might have a slow temper, this doesn’t make her a pushover. Can be intimidating with a smile. Don’t screw with her family. Especially on the holidays, halloween, Christmas and valentines especially. That is family time and she will cause demons hospitalization. Thanksgiving’s fine though. But they have to bring a side dish and stay for dinner. This has made things interesting. She can be self centered and details focused, but she tries to think about others. While her dads are in charge, V is the benevolent queen bee of the house and keeps everything in line. Terrible with time and directions though, but that’s what her sister’s for. Not associated with a color.

Bess is less like Rocky, but she’s got all of Kim’s best qualities. Kind, compassionate, empathetic. She though, like Jason, tends to internalize and stew. Her goal is to beat all of Jason’s records he set in his teens. She doesn’t want to be the best, she just wants to prove to him she’s capable. And maybe a little bit want to be able to brag she’s better than her old man, but just a little. A bit jealous of her older sister. V has a long shadow it’s sometimes difficult to step out from under. Often explodes when she can’t get something perfectly the first time, but once she calms down she’s usually trying again. Definitely Jason’s favorite even if he doesn’t say so. She’s very good at directions and maps, and sense of time. She’s dependable and capable. She’s going to be the best one day, she’s gonna make sure of it. Will be Red when Jason’s finally forced to retire.

Tommy Oliver;

Rocky and Tommy always had a rather amicable relationship, which lead to a very comfortable dating life. It wasn't a sparks fly insta love thing, but more like a very slow burn of embers. And after years and years of doing things and having each other's backs and being red and blue and white and red and all that this all entails...it got to the point they looked at each other and couldn't think of anyone else they'd want to be with. They have four kids; Dannica DeSantos, aged 26, Markus DeSantos, aged 24, Johanna DeSantos, aged 20, and Halen DeSantos, aged 17. Tommy and Rocky are currently taking a break (being teammates and lovers on several teams and effectively at each other's hips for decades will do that), but are doing it more to save their marriage than preparing to divorce. Halen's living with Tommy during this, as Rocky is the firefighter chief, and is only at the house three days every two weeks during fire season. Better to have a parent who can actually dedicate time to being a proper parent to the one kid that still needs it. All kids except Halen are scientifically mixed dna of Tommy and Rocky, through cashing on a favor of Billy and the Aquitans. Halen is adopted.

Dannica DeSantos is a racecar driver. She's been a speed demon since she learned how to ride a tricycle, and has been relatively unstoppable since. She has given her parents panic attacks. She's been in jail over the fact she used to do illegal drag races in her teens. Tommy had to put a stop to this by getting behind the steering wheel again and taking his own daughter on in a race. If he won, she waited till she was 18 to pursue this as a career-the legitimate way. If he lost, he'd give her the keys and say nothing. Tommy won, barely. She was pissed, but she honored her word. They had a few years of tenuous peace with warnings interspersed that yes, traffic is awful, but no you can't drive through a park to get to your job on time, Dannica, no.

Since starting her career, though, this has gone down quite a lot and she's been a lot better about being responsible off the racetrack. She refrains from using the name 'Oliver' to her advantage; she wants to do this the right way. She's insanely competitive, and has a very strong code of ethics. She doesn't cheat, she doesn't cut corners, and she's not going to start. The only way to do anything is the right way, and what does it say about everyone else who cheats who keeps losing to her, anyway? Loves her brothers and sister, but she doesn't really get along with her dads. She's the most intense parts of both of them, and while they love each other, it's better to love each other at a distance. She gets the fact they're currently separated; you just gotta take a break sometimes. Not associated with a color, and as she'd willingly drive a car into someone, this is perhaps a good thing.

Markus DeSantos is going to school to be a physical therapist. Probably the most easy going of the siblings, he's a lot like his dads. He's kind of wanted to do this since finding out about the accidents that wrecked Tommy and Rocky's backs for a long time (and even to a point up to now) and lead to them both finally retiring from ranger work. Tommy has to walk with a cane, and Rocky's dependent on painkillers. With excercise. Markus gets that because his dads are so vigorous with their exercise and a lot of luck they were able to skirt past anything worse, and he wants to help people get similar results where possible. So, physical therapist. He's a happy go lucky but take no shit kind of guy. He's nice about it, but nobody gets away with anything around him. And often find themselves doing what they should, under the impression it was their own idea, some hours after talking to him. He loves food, loves his siblings, though he generally gets along with Rocky better than Tommy. But, he manages to get Tommy to do what he's supposed to, because his dad is very much a stubborn idiot about things that are good for him. Checks in often with Halen and makes sure he's doing ok during everything. Keeps both his dads' fridges stocked. Not associated with a color, though he was offered black once. Kept this to himself, he doesn't want to deal with the inevitable "well why didn't you" if he says anything. He didn't because it'd get in the way of goals he already had, that's all. He did suggest someone else, and they're doing very very well, so there's that.

Johanna is assistant manager at the Juice Bar, and thriving. Everything is going well for her. She's got a famous sister, two famous parents, and likes cooking, coming up with new flavors to try on the blackboard, and generally being assistant manager. Does she want to go to school? Maybe. Does she know what for? Not yet, but if she ever figures it out she's willing to go. She's into competitive gaming as a side thing, but it's not her life. Her life is fairly full of other things. She lives with Markus in a rental home, and Halen whenever he needs a break from Tommy. She loves holidays and wears themed clothes every single holiday. She wears bunny ears without shame with extra fluffy skirts every easter, and she's highly embarrassing on Thanksgiving with her turky legwarmers. However, her siblings love her and wouldn't have her any other way. A good source of advice to anyone who needs it, though she tries to stay out of Markus and Dannica's way, because they both get into moods where no amount of advice no matter how gently given will ever be heeded. And she's not going to waste time on useless endeavors.

She sometimes stands in for the karate classes when her girlfriend has to skip. Johanna knows she's dating the pink ranger, and Rose knows Johanna knows. Johanna doesn't mind filling in for Rose when fights edge into class times. Rose would do the same for her if their situations were switched.Johanna isn't associated with a color herself.

Halen DeSantos was adopted when he was six. He was adopted out of foster care, and remembers his last foster care parents. They were nice, but had eight other foster kids. Halen found it no less chaotic but somehow warmer when he got adopted by Rocky and Tommy. Their kids instantly swept him into their midst as sibling, and it was easy to slide into this as well. They squabbled and stepped on each other's toes and got on each other's nerves, but there was a deep love throughout. It is tough finishing high school while Tommy and Rocky don't live together-and Tommy is his biology teacher-but he's trying to remember it's not because they hate each other, it's just gotten a little much right now, and they do still love each other. His siblings always seem to know when he's feeling really low, however, and it's nice being able to get his mind off things. Kind of wants to go into paleontology, like Tommy, or firefighting, like Rocky. He hasn't decided yet, but he knows whatever he chooses, he's going to be supported in it.

Trey of Triforia;

Rocky and Trey never did have much to do with each other, as rangers. However, here, Rocky decided he was going to make his duo a trio again. Aisha was gone, and Rocky found Trey filled the void she left pretty well. Adam took a little while to warm up to the alien, but they all became fairly close. Rocky always brought along one of the three personas to various activities, and people got to know his 'exchange student' friend fairly well over the summer, even if they did all agree Trey's personality and reactions could be wildly different from day to day.

This eventually led to Trey and Rocky getting together. They have a son, Ventus, who is blue zeo ranger. Titus has a rather rocky relationship with both parents. While sixteen and Crown Prince of Triforia, he really would rather not be. Doesn't know what he wants to do or where he wants to go, but it's not Earth and definitely not Triforia. Ventus simply feels suffocated by legacy and responsibilities. He really just wants to figure himself out, but he doesn't have the time or luxury to do so. He has a team, a leader who's often doing wildly unpredictable and dangerous stunts, a kingdom to learn how to rule, on top of general studies as a high school student in Angel Grove. Tends to internalize and lash out, and does feel bad when he does so. At the very least, he's not the gold ranger? While it couldn't be further from the truth, Ventus feels like he's disappointing both his parents. He will eventually find a middle ground between the two worlds, one that works for him, and a way to rule, that also works for him. Rocky and Trey are about ready to force this kid into a year long sabbatical with either Rocky’s family or on Aquitar. The team’s concerned too. Ventus has so much self imposed stress and frustration he’s not able to function. Trey’s also curious whether or not his Id, Ego, and Super Ego need to be separated for a bit, just to see if that helps stabilize him. Therapy for all three separately might be a good way to go about this, too.

*he's named after the character from kingdom hearts, who's heart was cut in three :) (one piece is in sora, one piece is an antagonist running around calling itself Vanitas, and the last piece is in a comatose Ventus)

an alternate tangental reality he goes nuts under the pressure and becomes a villain, fucking off and cutting complete ties with his parents and his former team.

Scorpina;

Adam and Rocky were in a mild competition over "Sabrina's" attention while Aisha was trying to rein the two in, but Adam ended up getting most of "Sabrina's" attention. Rocky was kind of glad it wasn't him when Sabrina turned out to be Scorpina. However, later, he and Scorpina did end up in something of a romance after the Z Wave. It's very off and on, and they have one daughter. Reagan takes more after her dad, and doesn't have any alien looking characteristics. Reagan is 18, and she's trying very hard to be as average seeming as possible. When she was sixteen, some version of Zedd showed up, and forced her mom to work for him once more. SInce then, Reagan's become obsessed with killing this Zedd and finding her mom again. Before this she was a photography enthusiast who was considering being a sports reporter. Since, however, she's gotten zeroed in on one goal, to the detriment of the rest of her life and her relationship with her dad.

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

ASK GAME! ✨ 🥤🌿 🌸

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

T is my main nickname. It's the first letter of my OG name and of my smooshed together chosen name. It's also the letter that starts Tea (favorite drink) and Trickster. I also have friends who call me Wolfy (because of Wolfsheart and wolves being one of my favorite animals).

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

I don't go to Starbucks often, but when I do, I usually get an iced chai latte, esp in the summer. I'm also very big on their hot chocolate with either a shot of hazelnut (top fave) or peppermint (holiday). I will also get hot tea there, but I almost always have to wait forever for it to cool down just enough that I don't burn my tongue.

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

Hahaha Okay so over the years, my clothing aesthetics have changed quite a bit. I ditched all skirts and dresses because I don't look good in them, and they gave me a mild form of body dysphoria to look at myself in them. It wasn't a specific gender thing - it was a body type thing, and what I pictured in my head of how I (wanted to) look wasn't the reality of how I looked. So anyway, ditched all the ultra feminine stuff because no longer me. Started wearing mostly cargo shorts (spring/summer/early fall till we actually get cold) or cargo pants/jeans and t-shirts. Big favorite is the cargo shorts and plain white undershirt type t-shirts or tank tops or even Hawaiian shirts.

Then I watched The Way Way Back and saw how Sam Rockwell dressed through the majority of the movie and realized, welp, apparently my aesthetic/favorite outfits is Sam Rockwell.

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

I've gotten quite a few really awesome compliments, usually from professors about my writing, but I can't think of the specifics of them. However, way back in 2011, a now-ex-friend of mine from fandom (who ghosted me several years after this because they didn't like my attitude about Peggy Carter) went to see Alan Cumming in concert. They got me this program autographed by him:

Ask Game