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gojomamashouse · 6 months

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Taking Care of You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x babysitter!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, Fem!reader. Very minor mentions of injury & blood.

Description: He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home.

A/N: crossposted on my Ao3 and Tumblr.

3.7k words

18+ content! Minors and ageless blogs dni!

You remember the first time you came over to babysit for Mike all too clearly. You remember the way your eyes went wide when the door opened, and how your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More importantly, you remember thinking that Mike Schmidt was far too hot for his own good, a clear image in your mind of how he had greeted you with tired eyes, messy hair, and a hand gripping the doorframe.

"Mr. Schmidt," you had blurted, ignorant to how his nose scrunched at the words leaving your mouth, "It's nice to—"

"Don't tell me I look that old?" His tired expression tried a smile, and you found yourself standing there, unable to formulate a proper response as you were already convinced you messed up the job before you even started. "Just Mike is fine.”

Back then, the only thing you knew about him was that he was hot, overworked, and clearly exhausted. So you did your best to make his life easier, even if those things were small, like cleaning all the dishes before he came home, tidying up all the clutter left behind on the table and kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but you figured he could use whatever help he could get. He came home the first night, too tired to even notice before collapsing on the couch. Suppressing a giggle, you threw a blanket over his sleeping form, lingering a moment longer than you should have just to observe his face. Even in his sleep, you weren’t sure you could find even an ounce of peace in his expression.

—

Mike remembers the first week of your babysitting, when he returned home at some ungodly hour that Friday. While most babysitters in the past opted to lay on the couch, sleeping or watching TV, he had discovered that you preferred to be a bit more proactive. That night, in particular, he recalled your humming in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

A strange feeling filled his chest at the sight, the smell of dinner still lingering and the radio playing some old song from his childhood. It was a feeling he shouldn't have been feeling towards the babysitter looking after his little sister. You had jumped when the floorboard creaked beneath himself shifting weight, still shy and jittery around him at the time.

“I didn’t see you come in,” your voice is still shaken from the scare. You turned to the oven, “Oh! I kept the food warm, in case you wanted some. Are you hungry?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, blinking a bit to shake the thoughts from his head, “Ah, you don’t have to do all this, you know. The cooking and cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” you returned your gaze to the dishes in the sink, “Besides, you work hard. It’s the least I can do. Just let me take care of it.”

Just let me take care of it.

A phrase he hadn’t yet forgotten, either. When was the last time anyone had taken care of anything for him? He’d taken on the role of being Abby’s caretaker the moment his parents were out of the picture. He had made countless sacrifices, dropping out of school to work full-time, losing his social life. His old friends preferring to go out partying rather than hang out with the guy who has a kid sister and a full-time job. Every day was work, only to mess up at work. Then go home, stress over a dirty home. Drive Abby to school, stress over her education and development.

He didn’t have it within himself to deny you, not when you were so kind and helpful. Even if the guilt ate away at him, reminding him how he couldn’t even afford to pay you close to what you deserved.

His eyes wandered to an image on the counter. There was himself, a familiar stickman with brown hair. There was Abby, of course, given the height difference. And then there was another figure, the hair undeniably similar to yours. All three figures were holding hands together inside a square home.

“What’s this?” He picked it up.

“Abby told me it’s us,” you had laughed, placing a dish in the dishwasher. “Cute, right?”

There was a thumping in his chest as he looked at you, before looking back down at the paper. All he could manage was a smile as he pinned it to the fridge.

You soon felt his presence at your side, his hand picking up another dish while you rinsed yours.

“Let me help with that,” he said.

—

You’ve fallen into a routine. Every day, when he returns home, he is met with the same thing. You, in the kitchen, humming. You, greeting him with a smile. You, sitting down to eat with him. You, always asking him about his day even though you know by now that he has nothing interesting to say. He prefers to hear you talk instead, to listen to you ramble about your shitty college professors and annoying roommates. He likes it like this. To be able to pretend that he’s not some deadbeat who can’t hold down a job to save his life or some traumatized freak haunted by the memories of his dead brother and parents. With you, he gets to pretend like he’s normal.

But, of course, just because he can pretend things are normal, doesn’t mean they are. Reality soon hits him when he’s sitting in his boss’s office, asking Mike for his badge and ID. It hits him when he’s driving home, remembering how he beat an innocent man, his knuckles still bloody as he grips the steering wheel tight. He walks through the front door, hearing you greet him from the kitchen, a sound that would have been music to his ears any other day.

“Mike?”

He doesn’t have the energy to reply. No, all he can do is walk over to the chair in the living room, sinking into it with a sigh. He loosens his tie and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the sink followed by your footsteps against the hardwood floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice is soft and gentle. His eyes shoot open when he feels your even softer touch against his forehead, laying the back of your palm flat. “You’re not sick, are you?”

In all the time you’ve been babysitting, neither of you had done so much as touch each other at all. The few times he could remember was how your fingers brushed when you reached for the same dish in the sink or the innocent hand you placed on his shoulder that one time you laughed so hard you couldn’t hold yourself up. He had always made sure to keep his hands firmly placed in his pockets or at his side. Now, you were touching his face, and he thinks that’s the first time anyone has touched him like that in years.

“Don’t worry about me.” He pleads, his body betraying his words when he leans into your touch, your hand drifting to caress his cheek, “You don’t have to.”

You ignore him, and your eyes scan over his form, before landing on his bloodied knuckles. A gasp escapes you, followed by the scolding of his name. He hears you stumble towards the bathroom, rummaging through whatever you can find and returning with a washcloth and disinfectant. You kneel beside him, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds and he winced from the sting of the alcohol.

“I know I don’t have to,” you finally break the silence. “I worry because I care.”

“Why?”

You avert your gaze.

“I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” He presses. There’s another pause.

“Because this feels like home.”

The answer is enough to render both of you silent, you out of humiliation, and him out of shock because he hadn’t realized you thought the same way.

You finish wiping the last bit of dried blood from his knuckles and there��s a lingering feeling left on his skin, where your fingers held his hands. Soft. Familiar. You’re still kneeling in front of him, but you’re wearing an expression he hadn’t seen since the first week he met you. It’s that look of shyness, the way you used to squirm under his gaze or shrink your presence out of fear of overstepping a boundary.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?

“Let me take care of you. Please?”

He knows it’s wrong. He knows that “messing around with the babysitter” has never been a good idea in the history of ever, but when he sees you gazing up at him like that, sitting on your knees between his legs, your eyes wide like that. Well, what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

The chair isn’t too high from the floor, so he easily finds himself at somewhat your level when he leans forward, his hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. He pauses, analyzing your face just for a moment. Your lips are parted, so prettily, and your eyes are filled with a look of lust and desperation.

“Please,” you repeat, this time in a whisper.

Any semblance of self-restraint he had before was all lost the moment his lips met yours. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he got a taste, a groan escaping his throat when he feels your tongue in his mouth. And you, you are so pliant. So eager to please. Still timid, hands hesitant as they rested on his knees, but so willing to let him handle you however he pleases, moaning when he tugs on your hair, whimpering when his hands grope your chest through your shirt.

“Quiet,” he mutters between kisses. You feel him pull away, the ghost of his lips at your ear, “we gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead, a tender change from his rough kisses shared only moments prior. He looks down at you, a flustered mess, but knows he must look the same. He couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself indulge like this. He feels your hand slither up his thigh, fumbling with his belt, groaning when you feel him through his jeans.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as your hand dips into his boxers.

“You have no idea,” he says, his hand caressing the side of your face, making circles with his thumb against your cheek. He can feel your skin heat up under his touch. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock, and he has to stop himself from bucking into you. You’re just so gentle and sweet and he knows you’d let him take his frustration out but he just cannot allow himself to do that just yet— not without a little guilt.

“Then talk to me.”

“Got, ah, fired,” he chokes out, feeling your thumb swipe over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and helping you stroke up and down with more ease. “Was my fault, too.”

“You started a fight, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

He looks down at you, his cock now fully hard in your hand. He can’t hold but admire the sight, how you hungrily stare at him, or how you press your thighs together to relieve yourself of your own desires. He feels his breathing become heavier with each passing stroke of your hand on his dick, and he forces himself to look away, his hand that had previously been caressing the side of your head now digging his fingers into the back of your scalp.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he leans his head back, in an attempt to stop himself from busting in your hand before you’ve even done anything. He swears he’s not usually this sensitive, but the fact that it’s been so long, and the fact that it’s you, had him feeling like he was a teenager getting his first handjob all over again. He tries not to think about it. “I’m already behind on bills. I don’t think I can even pay you. Probably won’t even get another fucking job after what I did.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“You’ve got to stop saying shit like that,” he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. He looks down at you again, and you’re pressing your lips to kiss the underside of his dick, then kissing his tip. He shudders. “You’re too good for this. For me.”

He’s about to continue, but your lips wrap around him and he can’t think of anything. Curse words slip from his lips, feeling your tongue work around him, your hot mouth taking him. He still has his hand on the back of your head, tempting him to force your head down, but he’s more curious about whether you’d try to take him all yourself— which you do. He feels your throat contract around him as you try to push yourself down his cock, determined to take it all. Sometimes, you really were that predictable. Sure, you were a timid little thing, but you were equally if not more stubborn. He grips the back of your head to pull you off, a cough rising to your throat as you catch your breath and he smiles lazily.

Your quick to take him back in your mouth, and he cherishes the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your hands that reached for the base of him to stroke whatever you couldn’t take. He gives an experimental thrust and he’s in bliss when he hears you moan around him. And as much as he wishes he could do this forever, watching you take him in your mouth, he knows his own limits and he knows he won’t last any longer. Besides, he’s neglected your needs for far too long.

He pulls you off of his cock finally, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, your lips puffy from their earlier actions. Then, he’s lifting you to the couch, hovering over your form as your back hits the cushions. Mike is thankful that you chose to wear a skirt tonight because with your legs spread like this, he gets a full view of your white cotton underwear, as well as the wet patch your arousal has created. He brings his hand down between your legs, feeling you through the fabric. He can hear your breath hitch and he watches you bite down on your lower lip to suppress your noises. And as much as he wants to tell you not to, he is reminded by the fact that you are both doing this in the living room, and the last thing he wants to do is traumatize his little sister, who is sleeping a few doors down the hallway.

“Didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” he whispers, finally slipping his hand past the fabric barrier to gather your slick at his fingers and rub your clit with his thumb, his other fingers prodding at your hole but not yet entering.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admit, sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle around your clit again. “You’re really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

Two of his fingers finally sink into you and you’re gripping the fabric of his uniform at his shoulders. Rough, long and so much bigger than your own— you have to grit your teeth even harder to stop any sinful noises from escaping you.

“Always thought you were real pretty, too.” He continues, “You’re prettier right now, though.”

He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds making you burn up in embarrassment. He’s obsessed with the way your eyes roll back, how your pretty lashes flutter open and closed, and how your hips buck to meet his rhythm.

“More, please,” you finally let out, your eyes going down to his cock, which was still very much hard. “Need you inside.”

You whimper at the emptiness you feel when his fingers leave, but quickly forget about it the moment your panties are removed and you feel his cock rub against your cunt, the tip resting at your entrance. You expect to feel him push in, only to see that he has paused.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, a pained look on his face. He had no reason to keep any around any more, not since providing for Abby had become his number one priority. He mentally kicked himself for it now.

“Mike,” you whine, trying to roll your hips up, but his hands remained firm against you, keeping you down. “I don’t care. Just pull out or something.”

You feel like a pathetic idiot for saying it, and he feels even more of one for considering it at all. All he can manage is a sigh. He’d already crossed so many lines tonight that he shouldn’t have. What difference would crossing one more be?

He hesitates before pushing in, but once he feels your tight walls around the head of his dick he can’t find it within himself to have any regrets. You’re so tight and warm and wet and he loves the way you stretch around him, gasping with every inch he gives you. He pauses when he’s buried at the hilt, mentally trying to cool himself down because the fact that he’s fucking you raw and you’re taking him so well is driving him mad.

“So good,” he coos, his hand on your face, thumb on your lower lip, “so fucking good.”

He pulls away until he’s nearly out again before thrusting into you fully, and he has to slam his hand over your mouth to stop the moan that would have escaped you. He continues to fuck you like this, slowly, and deeply, before it’s not enough, and he finds himself taking you faster, harder, wanting to see how much you were willing to take.

You feel every inch of him inside you, and you can’t help but clench around him every time the tip of his cock hits the spot inside you that you can’t reach with your own fingers. You feel so full and it’s everything and more that you’ve needed for so long.

He pushes up your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Your breasts are still covered by your bra, but he pinches your nipples through the lacy fabric anyway, content when he hears you make a sound, muffled by his other hand which remains on your mouth.

He can tell you’re close from the telltale sign of your pussy clenching harder, and how you start to freeze up, too fucked out to do anything else. He, too, starts to feel himself approaching his limit but knows he has to hold out long enough to let you reach your high first. He finally removes his hand from your mouth and uses it to rub your clit.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes.

“I’ll always be good for you,” you keep your voice a whisper, “Always waiting for you when you come home.”

Your words ignite a desire within him he never realizes he had. He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home. Now, as he’s fucking you, the only thing he can think about is how deeply he wants to cum inside you, over and over again until he gives you another kid to take care of. He doesn’t care if he can’t afford it. He’ll pick up as many jobs as he can get just to take care of you.

He feels your back arch and your walls clench around him, immediately going to kiss you to swallow your cries. He ruts into you, over and over again and though there’s a sinful voice in the back of his head telling him to fill you up until he’s dripping out of you, he knows he should stay true to his promise to pull out. That is, until you tell him otherwise.

“You can do it inside,” you choke out, still fucked out from your orgasm, “I don’t mind—“

Before you can finish your sentence his hips come to a stop and he’s finishing inside you, as deep as he possibly can, as if to not waste a single drop. When he finally pulls out, he can’t help but watch in awe as his seed drips from your cunt down to your ass, ruining the couch cushions beneath you both. He tries not the think about the consequences that will bring. Instead, he’s pulling you close, catching his breath while laying his head against your stomach. Moments later, he feels your hand running your fingers through his hair and he sighs, leaning into your warmth.

“I don’t want you to be Abby’s babysitter anymore,” he starts, his voice hoarse and worn out. He can feel you tense up when he says it, before immediately continuing, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

He hears you laugh.

“Does that mean I won’t get paid anymore?”

“I’ll repay you in other ways,” he flashes you a suggestive smile, earning him a snort and a flick on his forehead. Still, the guilt gnaws at him from within. “Seriously, though. I will. I’ll take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t care what job he picks up next. He’ll take any job in the world, so long as it means he can provide for you and Abby.

—

You wake up the next morning, the scent of pinewood and campfire surrounding you. You don’t remember exactly how, but you remember, after being fucked mercilessly, being carried to his room, cleaned up, and falling asleep in Mike’s bed. Now, you find the place next to you empty but can observe Mike standing at the door, speaking in a hushed voice while holding back the door.

You stand on shaky legs, still wobbly from your earlier affairs, approaching the argument.

“Abby, go away!”

“No! Let me—“

“What’s all this?” You interject.

Mike loses his grip on the door and Abby opens it wide. Her arms are crossed, adorning a frown while Mike is bringing his hands to his face.

“Abby, I can explain—“

“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were having a sleepover?” She fumes, “We could have built a pillow fort!”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x you

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notspiders · 9 days

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Liminal Spaces w/ 141

A thought I made with a few friends who fleshed it out more:

Liminal spaces! But you know, 141 are the monsters :P Now, the rule is that as long as you're compliant and not trying to escape, your liminal space is going to be heaven. They'll make sure of that to ensure you don't associate anything negative to their space. Can't have that, hmm?

Each man has their own domain. :)

Price - Suburbia:

Quiet, infinite neighborhood, everything looks the same. There's people but they all seem to act exactly like you'd imagine Stock Images people would act.

You can't really talk with them either. Strange how when you approach one of them, they just disappear in a blink of an eye.

Price would prefer if you act as his loving partner :)

The fridge is always stocked! Beds are warm and cozy. The television plays anything you want.

You also get WIFI. Don't bother messaging anyone (that isn't your husband.)

You can try to 'exit' the neighborhood. There's a car even! You can drive in it. There's unlimited amount of fuel. Too bad the road never seems to end and the houses are still there...

Not to worry. You can exit out of the car and enter any one of the houses. Price is always waiting :)

Got that all out of your system, hm?

Gaz - Shopping Mall:

Shopping mall has everything and anything.

Movie theaters, designer clothes, outlets, cafeterias, anything you want- it's there! Have fun exploring :)

It's just you though. No one else is in this mall.

Gaz's voice will always guide you over the speakers, should you ever get lost.

Or, your favorite music always plays over the speakers. You can ask Gaz to skip any song or play whatever you want at any moment of time.

Arcades, cafes, even a pet shop! Gaz will be happy to join you if you wish for company :)

The doors to the exits don't budge open. Stop trying.

There's an Internet cafe and library in this mall. Anything you want to read, watch, listen- it's all there. Still can't talk with anyone... Shame.

But you have Kyle. Who else do you want?

Soap - the Woods:

The Firewatch tower in the endless, dense woods.

It's pretty cozy.

Food is always stocked in the fridge. Plenty of water too. If you want something fresh, just ask! Soap is happy to hunt for you :)

You can watch sunsets and sunrises with him. He loves it :)

No WIFI here unfortunately, but, really- say goodbye to your electronic devices and embrace nature. It's good for you.

If you want to explore the woods, always have Soap beside you. He'll guide you around. Maybe you might find a small, beautiful clearing beside a lake. It's a perfect campsite. Could go swimming, fishing, canoeing...

Don't worry. No harmful bugs or creepy crawlies you dislike.

Oh? You want to go rock-climbing? Why how convenient that there's this cliff right beside us. With harnesses and such attached to the wall! And would you look at that, it's very easy to climb.

Plenty of things to do.

Starwatching. :)

As long as you're with him, no harmful monsters are going to bother you two.

Never go alone.

Ghost - the Beach

It's... a lovely beach.

If it weren't so foggy in most days.

But that's what you have Ghost for. He's your personal heater. :)

Seriously it gets freezing at night and the small shack by the ocean isn't really keeping the cold out.

Don't you worry. Sand won't get everywhere. And it's smooth. Calm your tits, Anakin.

Some days, when the Sun is out, the sand is just the perfect warm bed for you to lay down and just... sunbathe.

You can tan with Ghost to get that impeccable bronze. Don't worry, you won't get sunburnt. Of course... could always ask Ghost to lather sunscreen on you. He'll be happy to help you with that :)

The water can vary in temperature- from freezing cold to a nice sunny warm.

You can swim and wade in it. And you can try to go deeper but isn't that strange? The depth isn't changing and you just don't seem to be leaving the shore too much.

The currents do get stronger when you keep on trying. Don't bother, you're never getting past it.

Plenty of food and water in that shack. And spare clothes, towels...

WIFI? Babe, this is the beach. You don't need it. You have Ghost.

Bonus:

Credits to @angelcqre for this line:

something about the boys all going to Gaz’s domain at random points to pick up shit they don’t have in their own domains [...]

Yes.

Yes they would. They absolutely would.

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arijackz · 2 months

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PICK A CARD: What Era Is Your Beauty From?

☯︎ “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. I am not suggesting any of these descriptions are cannon to your ancestral history, these are just how my intuition perceived, and then presented your beauty’s energy.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

🂽 Pile One 🂽 (the devil, 2oC rev., ace of cups rev., 4oW, 3oC, king of swords, the tower, the world)

❖ Pile one, I feel like I’m watching the Game of Thrones out of context. Just flashes of people from around the Medieval 1400s living their day-to-day; singing, dancing, eating together, and then… not.

❖ The imagery I got when I asked what era your beauty came from, was very longing in nature. There was a lot of joy and celebration but it felt like I was watching the film through teary eyes and a heavy heart.

❖ The “movie” flashed between a thriving culture sharing tales of triumph and having happy, drunk sing-song moments together; and then those same people under a war-torn regime of a very cruel but powerful man. I sense themes of religious persecution, nationwide government-forced famine, and general desecration of the once-peaceful way of life. The population was going through collective mourning.

❖ People lamented over their unfulfillable desire to reconnect with their homeland and all of their loved ones. With the World card at the end of the spread and the Empress at the bottom of the deck, I get the clear image that your beauty is the physical embodiment of a large collective’s longing for the sanctity of their community. You invoke that feeling people get when they remember a bitter-sweet memory that hums fervor in their chest and gives them the fire they need to push forward.

❖ Your beauty comes from an era where the genuine smile and cheer of a pretty girl sparked a nation’s hope for reformation. You are the last remaining connection to long-lost celebration and the heart of a forgotten city.

How Do You Paint The Divine Image of Hope?

🂽 Pile Two 🂽 (7oC rev., 4oP rev., full moon, leo, sacral chakra)

❖ WHOOOAAaaaaa Ammberrr is the collluuhhhhh of ya enneergyyy!! WHOoaaA, shades of gaawwllddd displayyy naturraalllyyyyyy…..

❖ Just know I was HOLLERING that. This is my hippie pile. My people. Yea that’s right, I’m talking the late 1960s - early 1970s.

❖ Your beauty arose at a time when society desperately needed color (specifically seeing some of you wearing a lot of bright colors or eye-catching jewelry or hairstyles). The world was bleak and the war’s aftermath on the overall mental and emotional welfare of the general public pushed people to radical ideals and birthed a revolution centered around liberation, pleasure, and community.

❖ Your beauty is all sunshine and rainbows. Psychedelics and organic food. The best music in human history (feel free to argue with me, but know that it is going straight out the other ear, mama) and week-long outdoor festivals full of peace, love, and vulnerability with total strangers.

❖ Your beauty brushes people with the chilling winds of shameless pleasure. The taste of unadulterated personal freedom that is almost a societal taboo. Your beauty is so purely liberating.

❖ Lmao, I imagine a guitar riff going off everytime you walk into a room.

❖ You are the physical embodiment of eccentric love and vivacious rebellion.

Play That Funky Music

🂽 Pile Three 🂽 (The lovers rev., the High Priestess rev., Ace of Swords., 4oC. 7)

❖ Revolution is a running theme for all of the piles. This collective’s beauty awakens people.

❖ I’m seeing a brilliant man going mad at the lack of creative intelligence around him and pushing for societal rebirth. A complete cultural shift from the Dark Ages (pile one), to modernity. This is my Renaissance pile.

❖ You embody the mystical fusion of art, religion, architecture, and science. You are all the world’s intrinsic beauty rolled up into one figure. You are the art that attracts painters, inventors, and philosophers alike.

❖ You have the beauty of an all-around muse. You invoke the spirit of creative passion. It is like people see you and get a stroke of inspiration. Something that kicks them in the ass and tells them to go outside and create.

❖ This pile is very romantic. A classical beauty, like red roses and bottle poems. The universal innate desire to dream big.

❖ Shoutout to my Aquarians, 11th housers, and Shatabhisha natives.

The Medieval-Modern Muse

🂽 Pile Four 🂽 (king of pentacles, 2oP, 5oP rev., 9oP)

❖ OKAY PLOTWIST?? I don’t know what era this pile’s beauty is from because it’s set in the future.

❖ It’s funny how the last piles were all set in periods of revolution (putting in the WORK) and your pile, the final pile, is set in a better world full of financial stability, the end of inequality, economic fairness, and universal abundance (the fruits of the labor).

❖ Dude, I was trying to read the message at first and was just scratching my head. I was like, “When has anywhere, literally ever been this good???” Then I saw the ace of wands reversed at the bottom of the deck and saw impending change and it clicked.

❖ I also saw some star semblance, and see that your beauty is a reminder to mankind that the “impossible” is already set in motion. The hell we have created will crumble.

❖ You are a physical embodiment of society’s future triumph. You radiate wealth and fairness. My Venusians, especially Libra. You also look regal, something about you makes people want to stand taller.

❖ You got the pride card, I see that you give people the feeling of victory. You are living proof of future triumph in a better world where greed and sorrow are eradicated.

❖ You are the harbinger of the next era.

Introducing The First Titanium Man On The Moon!

#pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #arijackz #astrology observations #pick a pile #beauty #eras

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greenboyfriend · 1 month

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choose a fantastic green thing (tarot reading)

"what do you need to know?" image 1: ahh, a classic. woman with fish. iridescent fish, no less. image 2: women want him, men want to be him. whether you love him or hate him, you can't deny... he is a bug. image 3: the bowl. image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

hello friends. what a nice pull! you may be giving or receiving a gift as an act of charity or kindness. it seems like you’re unaware of something, but it’s not a bad thing. consider it blissful ignorance. it may be wise to stay in this state, shunning negativity/corruption. also, some of you may be dealing with children/ a child? maybe someone is having a baby?!

nevertheless, you’re trusting your intuition at this time, and it’s serving you. however, you may be a bit apprehensive about a change/transition you’re going through. know that it’ll happen no matter what you do! you’ll have to eliminate excess one way or another, cutting down to the bare essentials. it’s scary to go through change where you’re unsure what will happen, but you’ve got to do it at some point.

and anyway, you’ve got your intuition at your side. tune in with yourself however you know best, whether that be taking a walk outside, listening to your favorite song, etc, it will help you to regroup.

being sympathetic and loving towards others will also work in your favor. try to open up, and give others what you would like to receive yourself. “forgiving and forgetting” may also be relevant for some of you.

(6 of cups, death reversed, ace of cups)

2.・。.・゜✭

holy FUCK, you need to pump the brakes. holy FUCK, whatever it is, SLOW THE HELL DOWN!!! four of swords literally came flying out of the deck before i even got the chance to shuffle. take this as the universe/your future self urging you, begging you, pleading on hands and knees, to CHILL OUT!

yes, we all know you are very determined and forthright. yes, we all know it, and we all know that has turned out very well for you in other situations. however. at this point, you’re gambling whether things will go your way, and you can tell. loosen your grip on those reigns! resting ain’t so bad!! not every moment needs to be jam packed with activities.

i feel like you know that, but you don’t want to accept that it’s true, or can’t. despite this, you’re feeling the effects. the 10 of swords spells exhaustion & burn out– finding yourself depleted, full of swords, and on the ground (in vain); all the while, the call for action has not even arrived yet.

consider yourself. if you need to have a goal, think of it this way: how can you most effectively relax? what activities (or lackthereof) will make you feel the most refreshed when the time comes to get moving again? in a sense, take all the anxious energy you’re feeling, and put it to use by taking care of yourself. you’re not going to be able to succeed in the way you want to if you’re completely exhausted from ignoring your own needs.

so relax! if you’re not sure how, beg the universe for help. that’s what i did, and now, i have a cat.

(the chariot reversed, 4 of swords, knight of swords, 2 of wands, 10 of wands)

3.・。.・゜✭

your cards strike me as very sweet, my bowl lovers… after going through a trauma in your past, you’re working towards healing by opening up to those around you. now is a great time to be intimate, and not just in the romance way! maybe you’re interested in moving forwards with this, but you aren’t sure which path (which person/people, perhaps) to take. not to fear, however!! page of cups is here! let your heart/intuition lead you, and don’t be afraid to have some fun with it.

consider your emotions exactly as they are: does this person make you feel happy? secure? take your knee jerk reactions and mix them with your observations. after that, the choice should be clear.

six of swords is not always the most fun of cards (typically denoting healing, sloughing through the slop, ect) but trust that where you’re going certainly is… a blast, that is!! it may be a celebration you’re heading towards, but more than anything, it seems like you’ll gain a new sense of freedom. with the page of cups and six of swords present, this is likely how you approach your feelings & relationships, and how they’ve been impacted by your past. expect to shed some light on these patterns, and even overcome them entirely!*

these last two cards cement this message. if you go after what you want, you’re certain to meet success! it can be scary, and it might take a while, but keep trying! you can do this!!!

*for the time being, anyway. progress is not linear! sometimes it's 2 steps forwards to go 1 step back and that's ok!!!

(4 of wands reversed, page of cups, 6 of swords, 7 of cups reversed)

(pulled later: 6 of wands reversed, page of pentacles)

Ws all around my friends

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #pac #spirituality #witchblr #spiritual #witchcraft #witch community #pick an image

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honeyspawn · 3 months

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Real talk, I think Frank Pricely is a genuinely really interesting character.

So when we meet him in Black Friday, he is basically a cartoon capitalist supervillain. He's obsessing over money, he is condescending to Lex, and we get the impression that he's Mr. Krabs level of money-grubbing shitty boss. He gets a whole song where he revels in how much money he's going to make, and shows ambivalence to how dangerous black friday shopping can be. Then Feast or Famine happens, and something... changes. There's a visible shift on stage when he and the audience realize that he is no longer in control that's genuinely really eerie. Put a pin in that, cuz I'm gonna come back to it.

When when we're introduced to him in "Daddy", we get a much more complete image of who he is as a character. It's not that he's not a greedy and condescending person, because he definitely is, but that's not the foundation of his character. When we see Toy Zone outside of Black Friday, we see that it's a struggling small business, and a genuine passion project for Frank. It's not that Toy Zone is a means for financial success, but financial success is a means to keep Toy Zone operational.

Then there's his relationship with Lex. He's definitely snarky and condescending, but he also actually cares about her, and sees himself as a parental figure to her. He gives her advice that he feels is in her best interest, and shows her a lot of the "tough love" that he thinks Sheila should be showing Sherman. Lex is even one of the people he says sorry too when he's about to die, because he worries that he failed her. While I do think Lex has some level of respect for him, I never really get the vibe that she sees him this way; she seems to think of him as more of a hard ass, and she would absolutely leave Toy Zone the minute a better opportunity comes up. Her job at Toy Zone for her is more about her need to take care of her family. And this is significant, because Frank is a very lonely person. After his dog Buddy dies, he has no family left. He reminisces on his parents, who didn't support his passions. He thinks of himself as a father figure to Lex, because he has nobody else left in his life. I'm not necessarily saying that he's a good parental figure to Lex, he can be pretty selfish, and even denied her for a raise once he could afford it, knowing she damn well needs the money. It's clear though, that he's trying to look out for her more than her actual mother (low bar as it may be), and on some level, he does think he's helping her. Because she's all he has. Her and Toy Zone, and he's about to lose that too.

This is why Sheila is so appealing to him. She represents not only financial stability, but a chance to not be alone. He doesn't love her, and I think he knows it, but he could learn to love her. He could have love and money, and if that doesn't work out, at least he'd have money. That's what he thinks anyway. But again, he's not the one with the power.

When we first see him in Black Friday, we initially think Frank represents the corporations, but he doesn't. He's a small business owner, and can only support his passion by participating in capitalism. He is a retailer, not a CEO. And that's what puts him in so much danger in Black Friday. Capitalism treats him as disposable. And that's how he dies. Frank was just as much under Wiggly's influence as anyone else. He lived a lonely life, and the business he's prioritized over forming any lasting bonds with other people is about to go down the toilet. Then this little green doll comes along that's supposed to fix everything. He doesn't want to keep the Wiggly dolls, but he still thinks they're going to fix the holes. And once he's served his purpose, Wiggly disposes of him. And that's what Sheila tries to do, too. The only reason he survives in Daddy is that Sherman decides he still has value. It's honestly really haunting how these stories mirror each other.

#this is such a long post sorry #i just feel like we don't appreciate how much went into the writing for Frank #and how well Corey sells the performance #starkid #team starkid #hatchetfield #black friday #nightmare time #nightmare time 2 #nightmare time daddy #frank pricely #corey dorris

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ihrtchn · 9 months

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— all you need ;

→ pairing — minlix + m!reader

→ summary — felix and minho have been secretly watching over the supposed boy of each of their dreams. when they each finally get the courage to corner their boy and take what’s theirs, they realize that they’ve been in love with the same man.

→ genre — smut

→ warnings — extreme kinks (like very extreme, please be cautious), stalking, threesomes, cnc, bimbofication / mindbreaking, double penetration, degrading praise, god + master honorifics, oral (reader receiving and giving), domtop!minlix and subbottom!reader

→ word count — 2.45k

→ author’s note — oh boy, this is my first smut and i’m starting right out the gate with some heavy kinks! i saw this req by @nxthnii and just HAD to write it.

→ song (s) currently stuck in my head —

i can transform ya by chris brown feat. swizz beatz + lil wayne

i’m coming back to you.

so i really hope that you don’t mind.

i know you want me too.

even though you’re not mine,

you got that look in your eyes.

there were two things ruminating in minho’s brain at the moment: how undeniably horny he was and how breathtakingly beautiful you looked in the cheeky polaroid of you he was currently masturbating to. he didn’t even realize how he got here. from his perspective, the picture of you and his cock just landed in his grip, and he wasn’t complaining. it didn’t take him long to finish, his mind cloudy and swirling with the imprinted image of his favorite person in his mind as he lie underneath his silk sheets. he couldn’t sit in his filth for too long before jumping up and heading into the shower. even though the water was piping hot, his bare body was cold; the loneliness and craving for you overwhelming him so badly that he grabbed his phone charging on his bathroom’s mahogany countertop to call the only contact in his phone, his friend felix.

“hello?” felix answered sleepily, despite it being 8 pm.

“i gotta get out the house, man. desperately,” minho responded, not even acknowledging the other’s greeting.

felix immediately understood, ending their conversation short after letting the other know he was on the way. it didn’t take long for him to arrive at minho’s apartment complex, a quick run up two flights of stairs and a doorbell ring away from ending up crosslegged on minho’s black leather couch. the two haven’t spoken in a minute, their individually busy schedules preventing them. yet, conversation came easy. two hours of talking eventually led down the path of relationships, a topic the two men haven’t spoken about before.

“so… how’s dating going? any current prospects up for the love of the illustrious lee minho?” felix joked, his arms rested behind his head while his short fingers toyed with his blond locks.

minho never knew how to respond to that question. how does he admit publicly that he’s been stalking the same boy for three years and is deluded enough to think they’ll one day be together?

“nothing much, you know.. just.. hanging.” was the answer he ended up giving felix, his mind blank before clearing his throat to reciprocate the question.

“i’ve been thinking about this one guy,” felix started, “he goes to my gym and i stare at him while he weight trains.” felix gushed, his eyes glistening as a rose tint began to pepper his cheeks. “it sucks, though. i don’t know his name. but, i know that he works at this coffee shop up the street, and i was planning on going there today to see if i could ask him out!”

felix watched minho’s cat like lips curl up into a smirk. he began understandingly, “i think you should go after him.” felix’s eyes widened, “are you sure, hyung? i know you wanted some company.” minho nodded in response, beginning to stand and collect his belongings to leave his apartment. “i definitely do. i have something…,” he paused to check his watch for the time, “…that i need to do myself. so, go! have your fun.” felix jumped up giddily, rushing to grab his things before rushing out with a ‘bye!’

as minho laid in the overgrown bushes of the the apartment complex that was now so familiar to him later that night, his eyes darted around frantically. he knew where you worked. he knew where you slept. and, he waited for you every night. he knew what times you left and came, watching protectively to assure you arrived home safe. felix had left his apartment about 30 minutes ago, and right when he left, it was time for minho to arrive at his watchful post. he assumed today’s schedule was no different as he sat and waited, checking his apple watch occasionally as time passed by.

9:30…

10:00…

10:30…

11:00….

this was uncharacteristic of you. usually, you’d be home by 10:15. minho’s watch, phone, and patience we’re slowly draining, and his irritation only worsened when he saw your figure stumbling drunkily towards your front door with… someone else? if he expected anything, it definitely wasn’t that. he’d been observing your every move for years, and you weren’t the type to get blasted after work and rush home in the after hours with a random stranger. his mind was racing, thoughts flooding him as he flowed through his concurrent emotions. after irritation, however, came anger. anger that you would dare promiscuously flaunt yourself around. that you would dare have him worried sick about your well-being. that you dare be with anyone else but him.

it didn’t take long after seeing you enter the building before he followed earnestly behind, his eyes low and passionate as he tried to get a good look of the man you were with, the man he would have to eliminate. soon enough, he was at your front door. with shaky hands, he reached in his pocket for the secret key that he owned to your apartment and unlocked the door, his eyes wide with shock as he walked in and shut the door behind himself.

there you were. on your knees for the stranger with his cock deep down your throat. the overhead fixture gleaming brightly as it exposed your perverted state on your kitchen floor. the stranger’s hand on your chin as he sat at your table, your eyes glistening— drunk, and fucked out, and the thick cock of the man taking what belonged to minho. he didn’t know how to address this situation. should he cough? run up and shove himself down your throat? go grab a knife and attack the stranger? his mind was in complete survival mode; territorially wanting to put a stop to his worst nightmare. his brain fumbled through these few options before just deciding to go up and make the stranger reveal himself.

minho rushed over, shoving the other man aggressively. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his vision and the figures in front of him growing hazy in the heat of his rage. once his eyes settled, the sound he almost let out was abysmal. the stranger was none other than lee felix. he didn’t know how to react, his throat suddenly dry while he attempted to speak.

“f-felix…?” he croaked, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. felix was equally as stunned. he hadn’t a clue what was going on. after leaving minho’s apartment, he rushed to the cafe where you worked, barely catching you before you left. the two of you chatted for a while before ending up at the bar two blocks from your apartment. it was felix’s idea to head to the bar instead of the much closer restaurant, and if you asked, he wouldn’t tell you it was to get you drunk. but, that’s exactly what it was. after achieving his goal, he walked you home, perversely waiting for you to get drunk and horny enough after letting him in to let him ruin you. luckily for him, that was as soon as humanly possible. you sat still on your knees, your body hot and breath uneven as your drunken mind tried to process the events unfolding in front of you. part of you was terrified. how did this stranger get in? why are they upset that you're fucking felix? and why does it seem the two of them know each other?

but...

another part of you was too horny to function. your mind racing with the previous fantasies you've had of someone breaking into your apartment and fucking you senseless, and you wouldn't let this opportunity pass up. so you finally spoke.

"i can take you both," you said as you began crawling seductively until you sat prettily between the gap in the two men. they stared at each other, unable to speak. felix and minho both finally had the boy they had been pursuing underneath them, and they each wouldn't let an opportunity of their own fall through. they glanced at each other, a competing level of lust filling their looks before they moved their attention back to you.

"on your bed. arms and legs spread out. you're going to experience the fuck of a lifetime, boy," minho snarled sexily, his eyes dark as he began to walk to your bedroom. you quickly stood up, rushing towards the room feverously with felix rushing eagerly behind you. as you laid on the bed, minho began to unbuckle his belt before gesturing for felix to do the same. as minho began to tie your arms up against your bed frame, he watched you wither around. you were reaching the peak of your drunkenness and your neediness was fading, so you whined softly, begging for some kind of stimulation quickly. that earned you a smack across the face from minho, who chuckled at you darkly.

"look at you, baby. desperate for your two strangers to touch you just so you can get your perverted little climax," he spoke before leaning down to whisper in your ear, the hair on your neck standing up at the feeling of his minty breath against your hot skin, "unfortunately for you, that won't be coming so soon." instantaneously, he latched to your lips, kissing you deeply like he would never kiss anyone else ever again. the kiss was surprisingly passionate and sensitive despite the circumstances, and something about that fact lit the fire in your stomach all over again, your cock beginning to twitch just from being craved so deeply. felix just sat and watched intensely, his hand lightly palming himself before he cleared his throat to announce his presence. "pay some attention to me too, angel. i would really appreciate your help again," he started as he began to make his way to the head of the bed. he looked at minho for conformation before patting your cheek lightly as a signal for you to open wide. you opened your mouth wide with your tongue flat and eyes wide with excitement, and felix couldn't contain himself, shoving his length deep down your throat again with a guttural groan.

minho was growing increasingly jealous just watching the scene, and it only egged him on to be more aggressive. he moved his kisses down from your lips to your collarbones, sucking and biting on them so hard, you thought you were bleeding. every whimper you let out only grew his confidence, and eventually, he was all the way to your nipples, giving them the same treatment as the rest of his marks. just watching your dick get progressively harder from being faced-fuck and teased so slowly was making a tent large in minho's pants.

"i didn't know this was the boy you were talking about, felix," said minho as he kissed from your left nipple to the middle of your chest and progressively moved down your stomach. as you watched minho make his way to the spot you wanted touched the most, you shuddered which elicited a tsk from the elder.

"and i didn't know you had your eyes on anyone. i guess it's time to fight for him," felix retorted, his hand raking through your h/c strands as he held your head in place and thrusted.

"may the best man win," shrugged minho before he finally wrapped his plump pink lips around your leaking tip, sucking on it ever so slightly. "but, it seems i've already got him under my control. isn't that right, baby? tell felix how much you love when your god touches you."

"fu-fuck yes, god! i love it when you touch me," you exclaimed, your brain mushy from the stimulation. obviously, that made felix angrily thrust faster into your throat, abusing it mercilessly before growling out in his huskily deep accented voice, "well, tell your god that you only need your master, and that you only want his cock." at this point, drool was falling out of your mouth and your throat was so full you could barely speak, so all you managed to muster out was a pitiful "m-master..." before you gagged so hard felix's cock fell out of your mouth. with this time to collect yourself and gather your thoughts, you looked up to both of your domineering partners, your eyes low from being fucked silly.

"i want you both inside of me. i want you both to coat my inside with your gross fucking cum, and i want to be both of yours. please my god. please, my master. i want to feel so good," you begged as you desperately tugged on minho's pant leg.

"fucking whore. such a pretty little fuckdoll for us, right, felix," minho questioned as he watched you pull on his pants, "should we give our boy what he needs?" felix sat and pretended to ponder, hesitating only so he could hear your sounds. "i think so, hyung. why don't you take him first," felix said with a devilish smile, slapping his cock against your cheeks with a groan at the precum beading on your face before moving back around to the head of the bed and beginning to strip. minho followed suit, taking his clothes off slowly as he gave you a show. the two of them then positioned themselves on the bed in front of your wet hole with minho underneath you before he forced himself in hastily. he began thrusting at an inhuman speed, stretching you out like he was hate fucking you.

"god... you're so fucking tight, baby," minho grunted as he gripped your waist and took what belonged to him for the first time.

before long, he instructed felix, who was impatiently waiting on the side stroking himself, that he could finally fit in as well. felix immediately took the opportunity and moved in front of you and began to struggle to insert himself inside of you. after a slight readjustment, he slid himself balls deep inside of you. the two men sat still as patiently as they could to let you grow accustomed to the fullness in your stomach. they could both tell you were close and wanted to use you as much as possible until you withered for them. unexpectedly, they both began to thrust at a similarly aggressive rhythm, the feeling of both cocks fucking your insides driving you so insane, you could barely form coherent thoughts.

"nghh.. feels so so so good," you moaned shakily, your mind completely broken.

"good boy. such a good fucking boy," felix grunted as he collapsed onto his arms over you and minho's bodies, fucking into you feverishly. once you felt them both hit that specific spot in your prostate, you wailed, cumming all over both you and felix's stomach. the sight was enchanting, and made both men exclaim. "fuck, i'm gonna fucking cum!" minho moaned as you began to rock your hips into him to stimulate the men even more. "me... me too...," felix whined as they both simultaneously filled your hole to the brim with their cum.

as you all came down from your heightened states, you laid in each other's arms, catching your breath as you studied the features of the beautiful men intertwined with you. and all you could hope was that this would be happening again soon.

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starilianreads · 3 months

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Ancestors messages you need to see RN!!

1:- English is not my first language

2:- take what's resonate and leave what doesn't

3:- it is solely based on my intuition (ofc I used tarot but still)

4:- Images are not mine.. I saved it from Pinterest.

Pile 1->. pile 2-> pile 3

Let's get into it!🫶🏼

Pile 1-what's going on..

Cards:- 9oc,8op,8os,3op,9os,Qop,6ow

Idk why but I'm getting the song "gimme more" or "step on up" in my mind? (Do you guys like modelling?? Or like do you want to be in entertainment industry?? Something maybe significant here? Anyways) I'm getting that people in this pile are hardworkers, generous people. You might be a earth sign, (TAURUS, VIRGO, CAPRICORN) but idk why you're unable to see your potential.. maybe you care a lot about what others think and stuff..and it's giving you lots of anxiety.. because in reality you're not like that how you're thinking you're perceived by the world..

You may feel disconnected with yourself rn, You might have some people around you that maybe judge you a lot, gossip a lot, or maybe just some low vibes people are in your energy field currently.. and because of this, you can't able to see the good things in your life & your potiential you have currently.. how good you actually are?? I'm getting that you might be really beautiful, but you're "Fakely" dependent on others.. Idk if that makes sense for you (Ig I made a new word in English 😂) but you're like not what you actually act like with that people, for eg. You may not like tags, but at the same time people around you give tags, or you try to fit into that tags..but you really aren't that? Its giving me highly aqua vibes now. I understand your situation completely:)

Advice

Cards:- clear your vibes, the inner voice, take a step back, Peace and harmony, new beginning

You have to be honest pile 1, it's shouldn't be like this. Maybe you have the intention to be peaceful but with these people you can't!?

You have to speak up, be honest whatever, they think is their problem, detach yourself, you really need to clear your energy field, this is not what "true relationships" mean. You're stuck in this fakeness of them..don't!! (Imo you should try moonstone, all fake people will get cleared away by themselves..)

Listen to your inner voice (or intuition) you're the new beginning yourself.!! Retreat, rest and repair. See who's really yours and who isn't..PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!! I REQUEST YOU TO LET GO OF THE PEOPLE WHO AREN'T SERVING YOU ANYMORE!

you'll become automatically happy once you let go of these people.. you have to heal and cleanse yourself. These people just made you a bit cloudy, or foggy.

Channeled messages

Model, aquarius, pisces, earth signs, twin flame, there's something better, 4, ask and you shall receive! Poetry writing, perceptions, judging, intuition, January, 1111, beauty and the beast, 3 of wands!!

Pile 2-whats going on

Cards:- Qoc,the star, 6oc, the emperor, knight of cups, 7os, Qop, the world, 8ow, the hanged man, the moon, the high priestess

There is a lot of feminine energy in this pile. I can see a reconciliation happening with a person, but it's like tyk that they're somewhat naive and prone to making the same mistake again and again, but you're still giving them a chance or vice versa. (Its obviously your free will if you want to.. go with your intuition if you feel like give them a chance then you should and if not, just runn!!

I pulled some extra cards for you by mistake but the messages was so clear, a wish of yours is going to be granted, you probably want this from a long time, maybe since childhood even? And it's coming pretty fast with the 8ow here.

(Your ancestors are saying to be the "real you".. don't wear any facade because it'll mess it up all in the end? Idk what they're talking about, but yeah take as resonate)

I see that you guys are really pure and genuine personalities, who always be there for others.. establishing some boundaries may help. You can't be available for everyone every damn time,, It's a simple message that you're rich inside and you're not for everyone. You're precious. Some of you feel like that you don't have control over your life? And some of you probably feel isolated or misunderstood. But the thing here is you have to change your perception.. you still have your life in your own hands..

Moon card is also like a warning to me that if you're trying to control someone/something or someone else is trying to control you it's not going in a right direction.. speak up if it's someone else trying to control you, and release controlling behaviour if it's you trying to control something/someone. The message here is to connect with your intuition, wisdom and let it guide you.

Advice

Cards:- you're protected, balance, connect with music, change and transition

I feel like some major things are going in your life currently because of mostly major arcanas being in your spread..anyways, the cards are saying that whatever is going on in your life currently, try to make balance on time/in it. I think that maybe changes are naturally occurring in your life or you have to make some necessary changes to move forward in your life now. The angels and ancestors are making sure that you're protected, A divine timing is in play right now. Music have some hidden message for you so try to listen music word by word maybe something will click on your head?!

Channeled messages

Self care,pickiness,glow-up, feeling worthy, reconciliation, secrets, misunderstood, warning,new perspective, femininity,hope, December, there's something better, Cinderella,trust, straight forward,show the world the real you.

Pile 3-whats going on

Cards:-8os,the hermit,10op,App,Pos,4ow

I feel like that you're about to have so many good things for you, but Idk, something is inside you that, is Idk unable to reach? Its weird, but nothing is unable to reach TBH, there's something for you to let go, but you can't & I felt this while shuffling your cards,and hermit also shows our ancestors so these messages might be from a specific ancestors of your, might be tall in height, whatever you wish for us on the horizon, but something is stopping you to truly feel it,I guess this pile will have least messages,but it's straight. Its time time to connect with inside "you". Whatever you feel, whatever comes it's okay. Learn to accept it. We all are humans? And that's how we call ourselves humans? Right? You have to make yourself up again, until these things come in, because it's in the destiny it'll surely come in, but you won't able to enjoy it, trust on yourself, connect with the inner you:)

Some advice cards

Cards:-change and transition, honour your feelings, trust your vibes, honour your beauty, shine your light

All the same things I said before. Your ancestors are urging you to connect inside of yourself, and just for god's sake, try to accept yourself, and everything you have, because in the end of the day, it's you, no matter the good or bads inside of you, it's 'you' and that's what makes you unique itself! It is who you truly are! I feel like these people are really beautiful who picked this pile but never admit it, like there's so many things going inside of you, and you have to fix it! You have so many self esteem issues!, Trust on yourself, your intuition, they are their for a reason,

Please I request you to follow this,stop negative thinking, accept yourself, you're not ugly, im genuinely telling you're so pretty! believe in yourself! Just people are just intimidated by you that's why, they don't tell you about how beautiful you're!🤭😍

You're here to shine bright!

Channeled messages

Insecurities, issues, fragile, good luck, miracle, books, trust, within the next few weeks

That's all for today! I hope you like it!! Do let me know in the comments section how this reading resonated with you! Your time is appreciated here!❤️

#tarot cards #tarot pac #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #pick a card #pick one #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarotblr #tarot #aquarius #pisces #astroloji #ancestors

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joels-shitty-puns · 7 months

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The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today.

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce.

But you aren't, and you should know better.

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance.

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself.

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast.

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him.

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time.

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!!

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

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Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #rpf #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x afab!reader #key to your heart

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atiny-for-life · 2 months

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Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - Part 25

Masterlist

Not Okay (Halazia-World)

We're still with Halazia Ateez, though this time we're learning their backstory, specifically the trauma they've experienced at the hands of their own central government before they were woken up

This theme is already made clear from the get go by the opening screen which tells us the dictionary definition of the word "Trauma" before it flashes to a distorted shot of Ateez

We cut to San running down a hallway, chased by masked people (which is cinematically reminiscent of San running from the guards in Guerrilla) but time doesn't seem to be working the way it should (we'll come back to that later)

We cut to Hongjoong who's in the process of being brainwashed (a method the Z-World central government has also used) with a phone that has been mechanically attached to his hand

On it, we can see, in order, the words: ALONE, MOTHER, LONELINESS, BEHIND (green to white), MISSING, ALONE (green), FAMILY, ALONE (green to white), BEHIND, FAMILY, ALONE, MISSING (white to green), ALONE, AFRAID, MISSING, BEHIND (white to green), MISSING (white to green), ALONE

Much like with the Jongho basketball situation we saw in Everything, it seems like A-World's Hongjoong and this Hongjoong share the same source of trauma: being alone without a family

We next join Yeosang and Seonghwa who are being used to test each other's strategic abilities (which is reminiscent of how students are being treated in Z-World)

We see both of them seated at opposite sides of a baduk board in a museum-esque building's foyer while they're being filmed by two production cameras that look like the Canon HD Digi Super 25 xs (does this matter? no. but i looked it up for no reason so now you have to know)

Seonghwa is playing as the black stones and Yeosang as white (as stated by Seonghwa and San in the MV Reaction video) which reflects in their wardrobe

The lyrics make it clear they're being forced to play against each other over and over again

We switch to Yunho who's standing at the top of the stairs in a darkened auditorium. A brief flash of light reveals a figure standing at the bottom of the stairs behind him (we'll get to see who it is shortly)

Wooyoung and Mingi are standing on a small platform surrounded by masked people while the screen behind them shows an audio visualizer, I assume they’re forcing them to record propaganda songs or something, given how we later see them have access to microphones

Shortly after, we get a hint of how traumatized San already is when he's alone in the hallway from earlier and already getting flashbacks of being chased by the masked people, trapped in the time loop

The lyrics here state "Fleeting days feel like a mirror image / Are you gonna let it repeat again?", signifying how they're beginning to break free of the victim mindset, ready to take control of their lives and break the cycle

We now return to Yunho in the auditorium where we get some quick shots of multiple versions of him existing within the space while a mysterious hooded person, who we can strongly assume to be his dead brother, is always moving around as well but always just out of Yunho's reach

We then get this quick shot of an oncoming car as we transition from Yunho to San which reinforces the parallel to A-World's Yunho whose brother was killed in a car accident (as you may remember)

We also get the caged bird metaphor again for Yeosang which we saw with A-World's Yeosang and which is once again picked up in IT's You

We then get a very clear visual of what they're doing to Jongho - he's on a bed, surrounded by screens where they're actively re-traumatizing and triggering him much like they're doing with Hongjoong

They're showing him video clips of runners, both human and animal, and cars traveling at high speeds which serves as a harsh reminder of his leg injury

As the screens comes closer to his face, the images begin to flash faster until we get to see his eyes which eventually reflect the words "WAKE UP"

And here is, once again, where my original Halazia theory comes in: this world's Ateez aren't the instigators of the rebellion in their world. Instead, they were awakened by their world's Black Pirates, joined their movement and then took over after the former leaders died.

From here, we'll slowly get to see all of Ateez wake up which is also the point where the meaning behind the song's chorus really hits home because this is the first time they're experiencing emotion in at least quite some time and they're confused about their whereabouts, traumatized after all that abuse, and fucking PISSED at the people responsible for all that misery:

This placе, where right and left arе unclear (Make some noise) Feels like a maze (Make some noise) Try again no matter how many times (Make some noise) Nobody can stop us (Make some noise) Raise your voice louder, scream louder Don't be scared and let go, I'm not okay now Roar louder, raise your both your hands and shout You know that I'm not okay

We've now reached the point in the MV where Ateez are beginning to rebel, starting with Jongho screaming, San allowing himself to be captured, and Hongjoong trying to break free of the screen attached to his hand (this also serves as a callout for overexposure to screens, I'm sure)

Here, we also get to see the exact moment Hongjoong was awakened: the word "LOVE" gets reflected off his eye right before we cut to Mingi

Their rap verse makes it very clear they're sick and tired of being pushed around and told what to do

Move away, move away, I'm at my limit I can't stand being at someone else's beck and call

We now move on to the less clear-cut part of the MV: the anomalies

First, we get the giant clock hands on the ceiling in the room Seonghwa and Yeosang were playing baduk in - this references, on one hand, the time loop/cycle they're all trapped in, but on the other hand, could also imply time-travel in the way we've seen before in Ateez lore as the hands are moving much faster than normal - a parallel to the sand flowing upwards in the hourglass when A-World's Ateez first received the Cromer in the Diary Film

We then get the floating smartphones surrounding Hongjoong which are a parallel to the objects floating around Hongjoong in the Diary Film

There's a shot of Jongho who's reaching for a mirror version of himself which looks a bit Inception-esque (the movie) after which we get a close up of his face which cracks like glass, implying he fully broke free from the brainwashing and he's justifiably angry

Given all the parallels with Inception and Diary Film, this leads me to assume that, in this world, it's Jongho who received the Cromer in a dream from his alternate self of yet another dimension

This could mean that the Black Pirates in Halazia were originally led by Ateez from yet another dimension but I'm not gonna speculate on that any further until something else hints at it

We get shots of San fighting the masked people in the hallway, Wooyoung performing on the stage surrounded by the black-clad people in masks who were already there when he was still with Mingi, and a shot of Yeosang crying

We then get San crawling along the deserted hallway, followed by a shot of an arm wearing a wristband with a small screen that flashes between the words "OBEY, MONEY, DO WORK" before a hand comes in to cover it

These are presumably Yeosang (wearing the band) and Seonghwa (the hand wearing the rings) as they're the ones we see a close up of right after

We next get to see Mingi putting in his earpods which is, once again, a parallel to Diary Film wherein A-World's Mingi would always put them in to listen to music when he needed to distance himself from reality

And we then close on Yunho who's on the stage in the auditorium when he finds the discarded clothes of his older brother. When he lifts them off the ground, bugs come scattering out, making it clear his brother has been long dead and become food for the bugs. Quite macabre.

From here, we switch to black and white as this world's Ateez are uniting against the people who've been torturing them which could mean they had to physically fight their way out of the brainwashing facility

Finally, we end on a shot of them together as a united front while the masked people are surrounding them, closing in

#ateez #ateez lore #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #not okay mv

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desert-fern · 11 months

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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 10: On Nights Like This

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*Image belongs to @unicornships but I found it on Pinterest*

A/N: Chapter title came from the song Nights Like This by St. Lundi

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, bombs, murder, explosions (all very briefly mentioned), so much pining that there should be a forest in the middle of a Saudi Arabian Air Base

Word Count: 4.2k (sorry, it's long and mostly filler)

Masterlist >> Part 9 >> Part 11

===

When the pilots entered the conference room on the day of the mission, they found half the room was filled with Seals writing furiously on papers in front of them.

“Did we walk in on a test or something?” Fanboy asked, glancing at Fireball who sat next to the door.

“No,” Bear answered from the front of the room. “We realized that some of the wills weren’t up to date and neither was contact information. So they have this time now to fix it and make sure everything is correct.”

“Wills? Like what happens if someone…”

Bear nodded. “Exactly.”

The pilots exchanged looks. It was bad luck to talk about death before a mission, but it appeared that the Seals had no qualms with it. “We can come back in a few minutes, if that would be preferable,” Maverick offered.

“There’s no need. They have another 25 or so to finish up before we get started. Take a seat, talk quietly amongst yourselves, or go grab anything you forgot,” she replied, head dipping back down to finish her own documents.

The Daggers stepped over bags and made their way over to the empty seats at the front, Jake sitting the closest to where Bear was perched on the edge of the table, scribbling away. When her watch beeped, the room filled with the shuffling of papers being put away and within minutes, the room was quiet again. “So, I can tell that you have questions about how this will play out,” Bear began, looking at the pilots to her left.

A few nods followed her statement. Maverick spoke up “Bear has informed me that we will need all of you. Two teams, am I right in saying that?”

“You are. Team one, Alpha team, goes for Khrushov’s compound, bombs it and returns to base to take a second run at it. I want it burned to the ground,” Bear replied. “Team two, Bravo team, you are on standby until we have completed our mission. You will take out al-Hameed’s compound when I give the order.”

“We’re following her? Not Mav?” Payback voiced, leaning over to look at her.

“No, I told you back at North Island that we follow Bear’s command,” Maverick replied. “That includes for the extent of the mission, however long that takes.”

“And in the event that I am captured or killed, you follow Bug’s command,” the Commander explained. “But until then, you are listening to me.” Her tone left no room for argument, making it very clear that she meant business. “Am I clear?”

Nods and sounds of agreement came from all over the room except from a few men near the back. They weren’t fans of how Bear ran her team, thinking her incapable and not worthy of their respect. It had escalated when the Daggers had joined them. The pilots made waves in their desired status quo, which made them angry. Especially since Bear seemed so distracted with a certain blond pilot.

There was one man among the angry that stood out among the group; his attitude on her team left much to be desired and he was pissed when Bear had been promoted over him to Commander. He had plans for her, he had plans for the pilots too. But he and the others were in the minority, Bear not sparing them a second glance as she continued with her briefing. “Great. So, Flare and Fireball have sent their recon teams out to watch Khrushov’s compound. Flare, what have they found?”

The young woman stood. “Delta teams 6, 7, and 8 are placed on the North and East sides, and Echo teams 4, 5, and 9 on the South and Western sides. Delta 6 has reported seeing Khrushov enter his compound with Osmund early this morning. They have since left and Echo teams 5 and 9 have informed us of their arrival back at al-Hameed’s personal compound, as of two hours ago,” she informed the room.

“So what does that mean for us?” Fanboy asked.

“It means that the first set of planes doesn’t have to worry about missing any high-level targets. Unfortunately for our targets, they all have us Seals to contend with,” Bear replied, looking over at her people. She gave the table three knocks, watching a grin flicker across Shrike’s face. Her interrogation specialist was a different breed, always ready and unnervingly amped up in the field, and Bear had just signaled to her people that all three targets were to be brought back in bags for proof of elimination. So it was safe to say that Shrike was keen.

“And the second team?” Maverick asked.

“The second team will crush the compound when we have swept and cleaned it. All evidence is to be removed first then you guys get to blow something up. Marshmallow is with us on doors and traps,” Bug chimed in.

Bear gave her second a quick nod before continuing “Maverick has the piloting assignments. If you find yourself on team one, you are suiting up and doing your checks asap. Team two is waiting for mine or Bug’s all clear and codes before you take off.”

Raptor raised his hand, speaking as Bear turned to him. “Codes?”

“Good catch. Team one, you are taking off when we are in position. Your drop command is ‘Banshee’,” Bear told the room. “Team two, listen for ‘Vendetta’. Both words will be repeated twice. No more, no less. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Wonderful. Let’s get into tactics. Maverick, the floor is yours.”

===

The briefing lasted most of the afternoon. Bear and Maverick each taking turns to fill in details of the mission, the pilots finally being briefed on the severity and importance of the mission to be completed. “So Daggers,” Bear began. “Colonel Richmond has approved you all time to contact your families, loved ones, or whoever you need to before you get ready. You have exactly 30 minutes each.”

The pilots glanced wordlessly at each other. “What about your people? Have they made their calls?” Halo spoke, breaking the tense silence.

Bear nodded. “We had our time last night. We wanted to give you all your time without us all up in your business anymore than we already have been,” she replied with a soft look. “When we break, you guys should go do that. Tell your people you love them. You guys have an easy job, but the universe can be a bitch.”

Grateful smiles were sent her way from the pilots to her left, especially Bob, Rooster, and Phoenix. They had their partners at home who knew the risks; all three flew or had flown for the Navy at one point or another and they all knew just how quickly things could change.

Hopefully today wouldn’t be one of those days where they found that out.

===

Around 1700, the doors opened and the Navy members filed out in grim silence, the pilots realizing just how much could go wrong. Not that they hadn’t already, but it was sobering walking in and seeing full platoons editing their wills, seemingly without concern in their eyes.

“So Alpha team is who again?” Fanboy asked, breaking the silence.

Phoenix glanced around. “Bob and I, Coyote, Halo and Omaha, and Bagman, I think.”

Those she named nodded in silent agreement. They had grown close to the Seals and the briefing had made the danger their new friends faced all the more clearer. “Great,” Coyote said with a nod. “I’m going to call my parents. I want them to know that I’m going to be okay out here.” A few others trailed after him, having the same idea.

Behind the group of pilots, the Seals filed out of the room, chatting quietly. Bug and Flare had their heads together, whispering about something. “Priya,” Bear said quietly, getting Bug’s attention. “You know where my letters and will are, correct?”

Bug looked concerned. “Bear…”

“Priya please. Do you know where they are?”

The woman nodded. “I do. In the third pocket of your bag. Tucked in blue envelopes. You also keep your list detailing what has to happen if you don’t make it,” Bug replied in a hushed tone. “What about… him?” She asked, referring to the blond pilot who stood ahead of them, talking quietly with Fanboy.

Flare, who was standing a little ways off, felt a lump in her throat at her Commander’s words. Bear had mentored her since she’d joined Seal Team Three, and she felt a connection to the woman. Most of the team did. “You’ll be fine, Bear,” she said as she walked up to her CO.

“Mei… you can’t possibly know that,” Bear replied, watching Flare’s eyes shine with unshed tears at what she’d overheard. She ignored Bug’s question about Jake, too afraid her voice would crack if she tried to speak of the letter she’d written him. The letter where she had confessed everything; her feelings, how she loved him back, how she didn’t hate him calling her ‘Teddy’, and how she treasured every moment spent together in the short time that they had known each other. She had written that letter a long time ago, before the Lincoln had even left port, and had only recently tacked on a note about her fears for her team. She knew something was off and if… if she didn’t make it back, Jake had to know.

“You have to be. You’re Bear. This is your team,” Flare insisted, face now pleading for Bear to tell her that everything would be okay. She knew the danger of the job. Hell, she was great at handling the pressure and the danger, she wouldn’t be a Lieutenant otherwise. But this mission had her scared, it had most of them scared. “You will be okay.”

Bear ran a shaky hand over her face. “Yeah, Flare. You’re right. I’ll be okay,” she lied, trying to give some hope to her young Lieutenant.

Bug gave her a nod. “We’ll get through this. We have done all we can, Mei,” she said, trying to reassure her friend.

Flare nodded, swiping her hand over her eyes. “We’ll all come home safe. Promise us that, Bear.”

Plastering a grin on her face, Bear nodded. “I can do that. You’ll all come home safe. When have I ever let you down?” she lied. Inside, her heart was breaking. She knew that something was going to happen. Something hadn’t sat right with her since she’d arrived in Riyadh, and it drove her crazy not being able to figure it out. All she knew was that something was going to go wrong and she’d do all she could to make sure the only body bags coming home were those of their targets. “It’s going to be okay, Flare.”

Bug nodded, sending her own strained grin to reassure Flare. “We’ve got you.”

When Flare hurried ahead to catch up with FAK and Shrike, both women’s feigned smiles faded into a look of grim apprehension. “Come on, Priya. Let’s get suited up. We have a long few hours ahead of us.”

Bug hurried off, leaving Bear alone for a moment on the cement outside a large building. She glanced at the sky, relishing in the brilliant blue before drawing a shuddering breath. “Come on Bear,” she whispered. “Be strong. You know the building like the back of your hand. You trust your team. You know you can do it. So shake it off.”

Unbeknownst to her, Jake had heard every word she had spoken to her teammates. He heard the fear in her voice, the same fear she’d spoken of only the night before. And it hurt him to hear it. Rounding the corner from where he and Fireball had been chatting, Jake stood next to Bear, just offering his presence to help ground her. “I believe in you, Teddy,” he mumbled, nudging her gently.

A forced smile crossed her face as she looked up at Jake. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You have done all you can, and I know that you and your team have this under control,” he replied, pushing certainty into his tone. “You are incredible at your job, and I am lucky that I get the chance to follow your lead for this mission. We all are.”

Bear let out a soft huff of a laugh, shaking her head at him. “People like you make it easy,” she countered. “Now go make your call, I’m sure that there are people back home who are waiting for you.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth, and she was angry with herself for being jealous.

“My name was drawn yesterday. I called my family last night before I came and sat with you,” Jake told her. “Turns out I get to be an uncle for the fifth time.”

Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a soft smile. “Congratulations Flyboy.”

“Thanks.” He glanced at his watch, before sighing. “I guess if we leave at 2230, I should start my checks huh.”

She nodded. “That’s probably a good idea. I should really get suited up.”

Neither of them moved for a moment, both still caught in the pull of the other. Since they’d gotten to know each other, it became harder and harder for them to distance themselves. Jake pulled her into his orbit and she spun around him like a moon trying desperately to get closer.

“Good luck, Flyboy,” Bear told him, rising up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, before hurrying off across the tarmac to the barracks. Leaving Jake standing there, a hesitant hand came up to touch his cheek, as if to feel the warmth and softness of her lips once more.

“Good luck, Teddy,” Jake mumbled, watching her retreat to the barracks.

===

The barracks were a cacophony of noise. Vests were fastened, gloves tucked into pockets, rifles being checked, double checked, then checked again. The room was palpable with a nervous energy, something that normally gave Bear her own sense of strength. But tonight was different. The normally jovial teasing was absent from the room, instead tense conversations were being held between small groups.

“Bear!” Fireball shouted from the far side of the room. “Your shit’s back here!”

“Good to know Marcus, thank you!” She yelled back, walking through what felt like a minefield of gear, weapons, and ammunition on the floor. Bear stopped, crouching down next to the newest member of her team, a petite woman given the name ‘Stripe’ for the tattoo on her back. “You good?”

Stripe nodded, a tendril of her dark hair falling into her eyes, making her groan. “I will be once I get my hair to fucking behave.”

Bear chuckled. “Try pulling the sides back first and tying them back. Then do the bun. It’s what works for me, but Daisy might have a few other tricks if it doesn’t work,” she told her, clapping her on the shoulder.

The Commander made her way over to her bag, drawing in a deep breath before blowing it out harshly and sat down. Systematically, Bear pulled her gear on. Strapping weapons, ammo, and other gear to her body. The only thing she left off was her helmet.

See, Bear had a trick to keeping herself focused on the mission at hand and ignoring what she saw as she moved through burnt compounds and minefields. Her helmet was the key to this trick; it gave her the ability to mentally flip a switch, to compartmentalize everything she saw and experienced, and it would stay that way until the last piece of her gear came off. When it did, she could process everything, but until then, she was strictly a Navy Seal. One who didn’t flinch. And her team knew that too; keeping their distance as she got ready.

“Platoons. Are we ready?” Bear spoke after a few minutes of silence. She was outfitted in her tactical gear, the sight intimidating when paired with the stony expression on her face. “Our breach is at 0100 exactly. Do your final checks, do whatever you need to do to get in the mindset. I will be outside at 2230, you know what happens if you’re late. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Raptor replied, the people around him nodding. “We’ll be here, Bear.”

“Great. You are dismissed until then.”

Slowly, her team filtered out of the room, each of them grabbing their packs and hauling it back to their accommodations. They had everything they needed on them. Bear caught Daisy helping FAK fasten their medic patches to the back of their gear, chuckling to herself as she watched FAK turn in circles trying to do it themselves. “You okay, FAK?”

“Just peachy, Ma’am,” they replied, shooting her a wide grin. “It'll be good to go in a few if Daisy’ll stop laughing and help me.”

The woman in question just doubled over, laughing harder. “I-I-I’m sorry!” She wheezed. “You just looked like a-a dog chasing its tail!”

FAK sent Bear a look that screamed “You see what I have to deal with” that made the older woman snort and turn away. “Daisy, just make sure that FAK has their patches on correctly before we leave.”

“Sounds good boss lady,” Daisy chirped, grinning at her CO. “C’mon Eddie.”

Bear shook her head, slipping out the door and stood outside, drawing the fresh air into her lungs as she wandered close to the airstrip. She could see Maverick watching his pilots conduct their checks and found a few of her Seals nearby watching them.

Jake saw her approaching and had to do a double take. The uniform was by no means flattering, but Bear made it look phenomenal. The pants gave a glimpse at her muscular thighs, helmet tucked under her arm as she walked closer. “Bear!” He yelled, waving her over.

“Flyboy,” came her response. Amusement glimmered in her eyes behind the sunglasses she wore. Taking in the man before her, Bear could have swooned. The setting sun set his blond hair ablaze with golden light, making him look ethereal. Not that she’d ever tell him that. But by the smirk on his face, she gathered that he already knew.

“Come to see how we get set up?”

Bear pretended to think. “Nah. Just got bored waiting,” she teased, poking him in the chest, passing by to walk under the Super Hornet that sat close by. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I thought it would be smaller,” she mused aloud. She ran a hand along the wing as she hummed in thought.

“I don’t usually have women saying that to me,” Jake teased, grinning as she shook her head at him. It was odd seeing her next to his plane, but it ignited something in him that caught him off guard. Feelings, hot and burning, suckerpunched him square in the chest with their intensity and all Jake could do was stand and watch Bear as she took in the aircraft. “But I guess there’s always a first time for everything.”

Bear cocked her head to the side, watching Jake stand aimlessly in front of her. “Don’t you have checks to be running?” she asked.

“I do, but everything left is in the plane and I’m enjoying having a beautiful woman inspecting my plane,” he replied as he approached. Mostly hidden under the plane itself, Jake dropped his voice to a whisper. “Are we going to talk about earlier?”

She bit her lip, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Do you regret it?”

Did she? Bear had to think. The obvious answer was no. Jake had forced his way into her thoughts, shoving aside every hesitation and barrier she had put up to protect herself and left an imprint of his laugh and smile on every part of her body and soul. Nothing was unaffected. Yet, a tiny part of her did regret it. Her job was her life, it gave her a family away from her own. She hated that she could have jeopardized it over a man of all things.

Her silence must have been enough of an answer for him, because Jake just nodded. “Got it. I’ll back off.”

“Jake,” she said. And he stopped in his tracks. “I don’t regret it.”

“What about your job?” He was eyeing her cautiously, seemingly afraid of her answer.

“I regret the timing, but not the action. We can have a conversation after the mission, I promise.”

He nodded, eyes scanning her face for any sign of discomfort. “Okay. I can do that.”

Bear smiled softly. “Okay. We’ll talk later. Now, why don’t you tell me how this brilliant bird flies.”

The soft grin on his face widened. “Now Teddy, that I can do. C’mon,” he said excitedly, tugging her hand and making her follow him out from under the plane. He redid his checks, eagerly showing the Seal how everything fit together, what he was checking for and more. More than once he’d trail off, abandoning his sentence because he spent too long watching her face light up when she correctly guessed what a certain piece of the aircraft did.

Unbeknownst to them, Phoenix, Bob, Rooster, and several of the Seals were watching this exchange in stunned silence. “Bagman hates redoing checks,” Phoenix mumbled as she stared at her colleague.

“But the second a pretty girl asks, here he is, redoing them,” Rooster finished, a chuckle leaving his lips.

Fireball and Bug exchanged glances. The pair of them having been taken completely off guard by the excitement rolling off their CO this close to a mission. To the best of their knowledge, Bear was serious and stony from the moment her gear went on to the moment the last piece was removed. So this version of her was odd.

“Not just any pretty girl,” Bob said, glancing over at Phoenix, who shook her head in disbelief. “A Navy fucking Seal Commander.”

“Bagman sure can pick ‘em,” his pilot remarked. “Goddamn. I knew he had the hots for her.”

Rooster snorted. “You and the rest of the team, Nix. Now, will he actually do something about it?“

“Twenty bucks says he asks her out at the end of the mission,” Phoenix replied quickly.

“Make it thirty, and he asks her over coms,” Fanboy chimed in.

“Bear would hate that,” Fireball told them. “And besides, she’s still technically his boss here. It’s against the rules.”

“Buzzkill,” Rooster teased. “Fifty bucks says she kisses him first.”

He was met with a series of unconvinced looks. “Dude,” Bug said, “There’s no fucking way. Bear won’t risk her job, but it’s cute that you think she’ll make the first move.”

A loud bark of laughter startled them and they looked over to see Jake doubled over laughing at something Bear must have said. “But we do agree, right? They’re perfect for each other?” Phoenix asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Mhmm.”

Other sounds of agreement were mixed in and they continued to watch the pair in front of them before Maverick cleared his throat, an eyebrow raised. “Please tell me you are done with your checks,” he told them, his own gaze flicking over to watch Bear shove Hangman playfully. “I really don’t need Bear to be pissed at me because my team isn’t ready.”

The pilots scattered, leaving Fireball and Bug standing alone. “We should go check on our people, right? It feels weird to watch this,” Bug mumbled to her friend.

“We really should. It’s like watching my mom flirt,” Fireball replied, pulling a face.

Bug laughed. “Don’t tell her that. And isn’t she only two years older than you?”

“Shhh.” The two lieutenants walked off, disappearing around the barracks.

Grinning at Jake, Bear ducked under his arm to stand in front of him. “I told you that they were betting on us!” she exclaimed. “Your people are worse than mine!”

“That’s a matter of opinion, Teddy. Not fact.” Jake was trying to keep his face from breaking into a wide smile at her antics.

“And the facts are that your pilot buddies started betting almost immediately. Not mine,” she countered, finding herself standing closer to Jake.

“Agree to disagree then.”

She shot him a wink before stepping back. “We‘ll see, Flyboy. We’ll see.”

“Just like we’ll see if you can be made to say ‘please’?” He shot back, the smirk crossing his face in full force.

Bear paused, her grin growing wider. “Be careful, Lieutenant,” she purred. “You’ll get us both fired if you keep talking like that.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jake replied, swallowing harshly. He hadn’t known that his rank purred like that turned him on. Maybe it was just the woman in front of him, but he was pretty damn sure that this was a new development.

“Good to hear,” Bear teased. She knew full well what she had done; the way his eyes widened the smallest bit and the abrupt swallow clued her into the fact that she was just as capable of flustering him as he could her. “You should probably finish your checks. I’ve distracted you long enough.”

“Probably a good idea. And you are the best kind of distraction, Teddy. I’ll see ya when my boots hit the ground,” Jake replied, climbing up into his plane to finish his checks and watched shamelessly as she walked off toward the Jeep that would be following the helicopters. “Get it together,” Jake mumbled, giving his head a shake and going back to work.

Maybe if Bear hadn’t been around and he had been paying attention, he would have realized a bolt was missing, but he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

===

A/N: I’m sorry. I really am.

Thank you @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for pre reading this mess of a filler chapter, and for screaming at me.

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @twsssmlmaa @footprintsinthesxnd @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris @havlindzk @a-beaverhausen @alana4610 @killcomet @buxkybxrnes

*Please lmk if you want to be added or removed from the tag list*

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rainiishowers · 5 months

Text

Scenario: The brothers and MC are at a ball at the castle, and this is how I imagine each of the brothers would ask MC to a dance

A/N: Sooo… Had this idea super late at night, and wrote it while sleep deprived (although edited it). The tone may be wayyy different from my usual headcanon sets. I was finding bullet points… a bit boring, so I thought I’d spice it up a little bit, hope you enjoy!!

@mammoneythegreat @crazyyanderefangirlfan

———

Lucifer

Of course will be all gentlemanly and proper, whether he catches MC in the corner of the room or talking to someone else, he will get their attention with a little clear of his throat or a tap on their shoulder before holding out his hand with a small bow, asking if they would have the pleasure of having this dance with him. If they agree/go along with it, he’ll be extremely happy, which would be crystal clear on his face. He’s a very good dancer and will make up for the mistakes MC makes if any. He ends up being on cloud nine for the rest of the night, even after the dance ends.

Mammon

This man will probably do it in one of the shyest ways possible, and get flustered just at the idea of asking them to dance. He will stick close by and subtly hint at the idea and if MC were to ever propose dancing with him, he’ll try to play it cool and be all like “Of course the Great Mammon will dance with ya!” But when they actually get to dancing, he will look at MC with the most lovestruck eyes. Surprisingly, good at dancing, a few missteps here and there, and they will hear him humming the rhythm to himself. Not very graceful at the beginning, but it’ll become a pattern Mammon learns quick.

Leviathan

He will probably do everything asides from asking MC if they wanna dance. Levi will sulk in the corner, eyes following MC around the room, will almost get the confidence but chicken out at the last minute. If MC were to ever walk by him or check on him (why would they do that, Levi has no idea), he’d be a flustered tomato. It may be the alcohol served at the party or just his little confidence, but whatever may be the reason, he stutters out a question about if they want to dance with him, awkwardly holding out his hand. When MC agrees, he is ecstatic, and glad he had the confidence to ask them. As he is less familiar with ballroom dancing and more familiar with dancing along to anime openings/songs, he isn’t the most graceful. Levi apologizes every time he steps on their toes or makes them stumble. However, he has enough familiarity with footwork to be able to scrape by.

Satan

Much like Lucifer, will be a gentleman about it. However, will be a lot quicker to offer MC his hand and ask them for a dance. He is determined to be the first person MC dances with. He isn’t boasty about it, but definitely enjoys seeing either his own brothers or other partygoers look at them as they dance. He is graceful about it, and definitely throws in a few dips and spins in there for the dramatics. He’s gonna whisper some praise for MC being able to pull off certain moves well, or if they are less familiar with dancing, he’ll walk them through it and warn them of possibly harder moves to pull off. His graceful dancing makes up for the mistakes MC may make. Graceful but a tad dramatic, will obviously give their hand a kiss afterwards.

Asmodeus

Ah the king himself. Of course he is fully expecting all eyes to be on him and MC when they start dancing. While that nice image plays in his head, he walks over to MC with a pep in his step and not so subtly asks them for a dance, or if MC asks him first, he will swoon and happily accept the offer. Either way, it’s different with these two dancing. Both of them are doing graceful spins and dips, and if you thought Satan was up for dramatics, you should see Asmo. He shares the spotlight with MC, and looks amazing doing it. Graceful and more much more dramatic than Satan.

Beelzebub

Ah Beel, bless his soul. MC might have to be the one to initiate it. He is at the snack table, no surprise there, and sees MC. In the case that he initiates it, he’ll finish his snacks and walk over, seeing their gaze follow the people already dancing. Beel will put two and two together and ask if they want to dance together. In the case they initiate it, they will have to walk over to Beel and ask in a straightforward manner, MC probably shouldn’t be cryptic here because he will not pick up on it. Either way, they end up dancing. He isn’t… the most graceful, he’s still decent, don’t get me wrong, but since he hasn’t done this a lot and probably hasn’t had a lot of practice, he isn’t on the supreme level of grace. He might apologize and say that he wasn’t really used to it and he wasn’t really the greatest dance partner. Maybe someone should sign him up to dance classes…

Belphegor

This lazy mf will not dance unless MC somehow coerces him to. Granted, it surprisingly doesn’t take a lot to get him to agree to something when it’s MC. They will have to give him something in return if they want him to dance with them, though. Let’s say for this, they do manage to coerce him, he will probably do the asking to dance in a more joking/mocking way, with a smirk on his face. While he isn’t too passionate about dancing, he’ll go along with it so MC is happy, because if they are happy, he is happy, or at least content. He barely remembers the lessons in dance that he took with Lilith and Beel, but at least that is something. Surprise surprise, not all that graceful, and will probably quit a quarter of the way through, or a half if he’s especially tired (which is very likely). Why am I not surprised that the twins aren’t the best dancing partners?

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wlntrsldler · 4 months

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hi!! i hope you’re doing well :). can i please request either “and you're telling me you wanna kiss me but we shouldn't cause we're just friends." or “when you found me i was a train wreck” with sam obisanya? i’m not picky either way i just thought they’d both be good and couldn’t decide hehe. thanks!!

kissing in swimming pools | sam obisanya

based on the song kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone: "when you found me i was a train wreck."

description: the first "i love you" f!reader (she/her)

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did ya expect? fluff! sam in loveeee.

word count: 1356 words

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

There were only three things that Sam Obisanya was sure of.

The first is that his father will be proud of him no matter what he ends up accomplishing in his life. He was sure that if life didn’t pan out the way that it did and he wasn’t a famous footballer, his father would still be as proud as he is of him. He was lucky in that sense– that he had a father who never once made him doubt whether he loved his son or not. Sam knew that he wouldn’t be half the man that he is if his father wasn’t his father. And in his opinion, he thinks he ended up pretty decent.

The second thing he is sure of is that Ted Lasso was put on this earth to be AFC Richmond’s coach, even if it was just for the short time that he did. Some pretty spectacular people had coached Sam, Roy Kent being one of them, but Ted was something special. Not only did he make Sam a better player on the pitch, he also made him a better man. Whenever he does something wrong, he always repeats the words, “Be a goldfish,” in his head, over and over again. When he’s having a bad day, where everything seems to be going wrong, he closes his eyes and the word “Believe,” on that bright yellow paper is the image in his head.

The third and final thing Sam Obisanya is sure of is that if he was asked who was the love of his life, he would say you with no hesitation.

He watched you dance with Keeley to some random 2000s pop song on the dance floor. Beard and Jane were engaged in some weird dance routine that had people raising their eyebrows, but Sam figured they were able to act however they wanted since it was their wedding night. He couldn’t help but smile as you threw your head back in laughter as Keeley tried to do the shuffle in her heels.

“Oi,” Jamie nudged his arm, “You reckon Y/N will still be your date at Jane and Beard’s 25th wedding anniversary?”

“Absolutely,” Sam replied before Jamie even finished his question, “I love her. There’s no one else for me, Jamie. I don’t think anyone can ever compare.”

Jamie let out a breath, eyes widening as he took a sip from his bottle, “Sheesh, bold claim, man.”

“Honestly, I know she’s the love of my life.”

“This is cute and all,” Colin interrupted, leaning across the table to meddle in Sam and Jamie’s conversation, “But have you told her that?”

Sam shook his head, a goofy smile on his face, “No, not yet. I don’t know how I should tell her or what she’d say. I don’t even know if she feels the same way about me.”

“You won’t know ‘til you tell her,” Jamie said, “And for what it’s worth, I think it’ll be a good response.”

Sam took a sip of his own beer and then placed the bottle on the table. He cleared his throat, dusting off his dress pants. As the song transitioned to a slow song, he walked over to where you stood with Keeley on the dance floor. He tried to ignore the sounds of cheering from the table of footballers he just left, but he couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to control his smile.

Keeley was facing Sam so she noticed him before you did. She shot him a wink and bid you goodbye by squeezing your arm. As Keeley walked away, you turned around to find Sam with an outstretched hand.

“May I have this dance?” He asked though he was already pulling you into him.

“Always,” you responded, draping your arms around his neck while his hands found their way to your hips. You swayed slowly to the sound of the music, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. You knew that there were others on the dance floor, hell, you knew that the newlyweds were right beside you, but somehow at that moment, you felt like it was just you and Sam. “Y’know, before I met you, I always thought that people were lying when they said that when they’re with their partner the whole world disappears.”

“What do you think now?” he asked, spinning you around elegantly, “Do you feel that way with me?”

“Mhm,” you answered. You let your right-hand cup his face. He nuzzled his cheek against your palm, a sigh of contentment leaving his lips. You rubbed his skin with the pad of your thumb, cherishing the way he melted under your touch. “When I met you, I was a train wreck. I was always working. I never took time to take care of myself and for a while, I really did forget how to take care of myself. Then you came along…”

His smile turned shy as if he couldn’t believe that you were giving him the credit he deserved, “Then I came along…”

“Then you came along and reminded me how beautiful life could be if I just slowed down and took some time to breathe, to experience life, to smile,” you trailed off, not sure how you were going to word the next part. You took a deep breath, halting your movements before saying, “Sam, I lov-”

“No!” He exclaimed, a bit too loudly. He made a face of embarrassment, looking around the dancefloor to see couples staring at him oddly. Keeley, who was dancing with Roy, gave him a questioning look, “Apologies, everyone.”

You chuckled quietly, moving his face to look at you again, “No?”

“No- I mean- yes!” He babbled, “I mean, I don’t want you to say it first. I need to say it first. But I do, too. I do. I do love you.”

You placed a soft kiss on his lips, giggling as you pulled away, “I love you, Sam Obisanya.”

Sam chased your lips, unable to contain the smile on his face, “I like how that sounds.”

“What?” you teased, “You like it when I say I love you?”

“Can’t get enough of it,” he mumbled against your lips, “You’re gonna have to say it at least fifty times a day. Texts don’t count because I don’t get to hear your pretty voice say it. Phone calls are okay and voice memos are the last resort. I would prefer it if you were in front of me when you said it, though. ‘Cause then I will get to kiss you.”

“You don’t ever need an excuse to kiss me, Sam.”

“Thank God for that,” Sam said, spinning you one last time as the music came to a stop.

As you fell back into his arms, he couldn’t help but imagine you at your wedding; how beautiful of a bride you’d be, how the lads would be cheering for Mr. and Mrs. Obisanya when the two of you walk into the reception, how in his vows, he’ll recount the moment he realized that he was going to marry you.

You walked back to the table with Sam, hand in hand, with a glow that all of the boys noticed. Dani and Richard were fawning over something on Isaac’s phone, calling you and Sam over to take a look at it. When you saw the picture, tears pooled in your eyes. In the photo, you were staring up at Sam, laughing a bit as he stumbled over his words. Isaac managed to capture the exact moment Sam told you he loved you for the first time. Sam draped an arm over you, kissing the crown of your head, as he chuckled at how stupid he looked in the picture.

Throughout your relationship, there were many “I love you’s” that followed, many photos that were taken and shared, and many other weddings you attended. But that photo, imperfect, silly, and a bit grainy, was your favorite moment– your favorite “I love you,” your favorite photo of the both of you, but it was taken at your second favorite wedding. Your favorite wedding was your own.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fics #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #sam obisanya #sam obisanya imagine #sam obisanya x yn #sam obisanya oneshot #sam obisanya fluff #sam obisanya x y/n #sam obisanya x reader #frances writes #frances song fics

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shotorozu · 1 year

Text

see you again

(inspired by that one tiktok trend that’s based off see you again by tyler the creator and kali uchis)

note(s): it kinda makes more sense if you hear the audio itself, so do listen to the 10 minute loop i linked or else this ain’t making any sense. also yes this is a trend on tiktok 😭 at first it didn’t make sense to me (this is kinda out of nowhere and lowkey a weird concept now that im done writing it 💀) but it kinda does at the same time— so now im making a last minute post for mr. popularity 😁🤩

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki doesn’t understand tiktok trends.

ever since he saw some of the heinously unaware things being posted on the app, he vowed to stay clear from it unless if absolute necessary. (aka if bugged hard enough)

he used to watch reels from time to time (which was a big shocker to you) at least until you pointed out the similarity it had with tiktoks, and since then ditched the concept of watching short videos entirely.

it all seemed like a trick to him— a distraction. not only did he see some blissfully unaware people on that app, but it just felt like people had no concept of digital footprint. (it’d be infuriating if it wasn’t just so sad when he thought about it, actually.)

and— why should he participate in a video that could only get 10 views?

bakugou katsuki doesn’t understand tiktok trends. he might as well never touch the app within a thousand collumns in his appstore.

yet as you sit in front of him, showing him a tiktok trend with an expression that makes him sickly—

he kind of understands.

“y’know, ok ok ok ok is so you, bakugou.”

his face scrunches up when he moves closer to the screen, listening as the audio plays on while two characters representing each side are shown on the screen.

ok ok ok ok

la la la la—

“what the hell does that even mean??” he knows what it means. “how can you tell how a fucking person is an ok ok ok ok person??”

you shrug, “i just know. like… i don’t even have to explain why you’re tyler’s part.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“so what are you?” he questions, curious as to what you have to say. if you even have anything to say. he could tell that other people normally assign archetypes to you— if two repeating letters are archetypes…

damn. he thinks, feeling a sense of unknown sobriety. you got him bad if he can understand some sort of characterization assigned to this little segment of a song.

“la la la la, of course.” you decide, nodding. “well— i could also be ok ok ok ok— who said there couldn’t be two— well, i guess the song…”

you bite down on your lip in thought, and his line of sight immediately follows. “but i think i should be the la la la la to your ok ok ok ok, because—”

his first thought should’ve been what the fuck, that’s so stupid.

but the moment you start explaining, his eyes are locked onto you, catching every syllable and absorbing the obscurity that hangs off your definitions.

he leans forward, nods whenever you make a point. for something so nonsensical yet plain— you talk as if you talk to love, the same way you love to talk about your topics.

“and i rest my case.” he doesn’t realize you’ve reached the end of your spewl until you say it.

he doesn’t wait for you to finish unlike some others and plus. he doesn’t watch the clock or cut in— he listens. and for once, he agrees to something nonsensical yet plain such as this—

well, actually— he let you convince him.

it all slams into him, “fitting.” he grumbles, turning his head away to clear his mind of the images of you talking, so full of life— with him both listening and agreeing at your side.

and that’s when he realized— you were going to be an unstoppable force in his life.

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

Note

Zoomer Huey, I tend to see people saying why Gen z don’t have sex much.

Holy

Fucking

Shits

These journalists surprisedly have WORSE self awareness than there boomer relatives

Here a hint https://x.com/swannmarcus89/status/1762582001507323991?s=46

And gender dynamics are…nuked in the fields they are surveying. Women and girls are told that all men are predators and misandry is left unchecked

Also, why Hollywood act surprised about the sex abuse?

We all heard about the casting coach, and how suspiciously people from working class backgrounds like Micheal Jackson (yes his dad had his music connections. But essentially mj was a slave and was arguably was the first black child star unless I’m missing someone) and Walt Disney (though not as bad) are painted as monsters while the actual monsters are protected for decades

I mean look at Judy Garland, she was a sweet person and she did help the LBGT in Hollywood and supported the civil rights movement

But her “crazy” behavior makes more sense because she was sexually abused at a extremely young age

And she not the only one, Shirley Temple, the boy who played at the first LA Dennis the Manis

Oh and the Peter Pan actor (a lot of people leave out the part where ALL of Hollywood basically says he can choke and die because he was “too” Disney)

But sorry about the Gen stuff, but the false rape accusations, maybe if you guys didn’t view men (especially white ones) the same way Nazis viewed the Jews while saying all the working class men were Weinstein.

My Gen would have more sex

Entertainment industry has been like that since the beginning of forever, probably less so when women weren't allowed to participate but still a thing I'm sure.

As for Judy Garland it was nice to see people come out swinging in her defense when someone tried to start shit over well

She was not in control of her carer, saying no was not an option for her with this, but dumbasses that can only think in terms of today's standards never think about that.

Jay North (Dennis the Menace) did ok, so did Shirley Temple, plenty of others not so much, more recently we can look at Drew Barrymore and RDJ who both had fairly public meltdowns and problems.

Drew was ruined since her first film was ET and Spielberg takes care of the kids on set, going beyond the legal requirements.

Bobby Driscol was the Peter Pan VA top of his Wiki article.

Robert "Bobby" Cletus Driscoll (March 3, 1937 – c. March 30, 1968) was an American actor who performed on film and television from 1943 to 1960. He starred in some of the Walt Disney Studios' best-known live-action pictures of that period: Song of the South (1946), So Dear to My Heart (1949), and Treasure Island (1950), as well as RKO's The Window (1949). He served as the animation model and provided the voice for the title role in Peter Pan (1953). He received an Academy Juvenile Award for outstanding performances in So Dear to My Heart and The Window.

He just fell into the child actor pit, where he wasn't "cute" anymore couldn't get gigs and couldn't adjust to not being in the spotlight, the way he went and nobody knowing is awful to think about still.

Jackie Coogan, on the other hand was a different story.

His parents sucked and as a result there's a series of laws named after him California's Coogan Law all about protecting the earnings of child actors from their parents. % goes into a trust iirc.

He ended up OK in the end though

The false accusation thing, #me too hurt women because #believe women was taken advantage of to such a degree that even this coming out to light

has still probably not cleared up for the trooper, and men are opting to not mentor women because of not wanting to risk a false accusation, everyone screams about how rare they are, to which I say so what, why should they assume the risk even if it's minor

Former VP Mike Pence came out and said he won't be alone with a woman that's not his wife in order to ensure that there is no possibility of someone making a claim of impropriety.

And he got this response

Why is anyone going to put their neck on the line when something like what he said is going to get this kind of response.

Maybe instead of crying about how rare false accusations are they should focus on shaming the people making them and coming up with solutions to keep them from happening.

You know instead of blaming the victims of the false accusations.

All this and so much more going on that isn't in this ask goes to the I don't blame people for not having as much sex, it's actually kinda nice too, fewer std's this way.

I went on a couple tangents, hope that's ok

#zoomer huey anon

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crash-and-cure · 2 years

Text

If I Were You Part 2 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Reader tries to navigate the immeadiate aftermath after that fateful night with Elvis, to varying success. WIth his return to performing on the horizon reader questions is if there is a way of forward that causes the least amount of damage for both parties. Elvis sees only one path forward.

Note: This is based on @venus-haze One shot If I Were You. Please go read that before this because it’s absolutely incredible. And yes before anyone asks I had her full permission to continue the story and she has been on board the whole time. I swear on my life this was originally a one-shot to continue on and let it be known what I saw for reader and Elvis’ future. Then about 5k into this story and realizing there were so many scenes I wanted to add within the first week alone for these two, I just went all in and decided to restrain this chapter to a week. There will be at least one more chapter following this. Reader is cis female, and aside from that no other descriptors are used. Full disclosure I do use this song, which, while never performed by him, has all the makings of one, and it fit to well in the scene it’s in. I do have a Bachelor’s in Psychology, but I am not a therapist, so nothing here should be treated as genuine mental health advice. That being said there is alot more focus on reader this time around. Please read the warnings before deciding to read.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: Yandere fic so there are themes of obsessive , manipulative, and delusional behavior as well as some heavy allusions to blackmail, emotional and otherwise, here too. There is an informal therapy session depicted here as well in which topics such as performance anxiety, sex, exploitation, and substance abuse are discussed. Depictions of drinking that may be seen as delving into alcohol abuse territory, as well as some other erratic behavior on readers part. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes oral (f. recieving), pentrative sex (m/f), spanking, some daddy kink, and other dom/sub undertones sprinkled throughout. And of course Elvis’ mommy issues and readers daddy issues (truly aa match made in hell). Finally depictions of a toxic relationship that include power imbalances, manipulation, and uses of coercion. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

My Masterlist

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You kept that bottle of wine, you can’t fully explain why though. Worse yet you kept it in the bottom drawer of your desk, and every time you opened that drawer these past few months you were always secretly hoping that it wouldn’t be there and would always feel the disappointment when it continued to be there out of your sight. How poetic you thought idly as Elvis forced open that locked drawer after curiosity over the glass clinking sound had gotten the better of him.

Recognizing the bottle he let out a dark chuckle. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought you didn’t take gifts from us patients, Doc?” he said, very much amused as he used his teeth to take the cork out. “Don’t worry though mama,” he paused taking a swig, “I forgive ya’. Least I could do after all ya’ gave tonight.”

Shaking both in shock and humiliation, you grabbed the bottle and after nursing it for a beat too long, you proceeded to ride him to oblivion as he sat in your own desk chair in some twisted attempt to regain control of the situation. Though the closer you got to your peak, it became clear that this was all in vain. The way he sat there, lounging back, one hand behind his head and the other leaving finger-sized bruises on your rear, guiding you as you desperately chased your release, he was the very image of a King on his throne. It was on that thought that you proceeded to shatter around him once again that night, drifting as he whispered in your ear what a good girl you were.

The rest of the night proceeded as a blur as the next conscious thought you had would be wondering how you were going to get to work the next day as he drove you home in his own car. You don’t quite remember giving him directions, but for the sake of your sanity you just assumed you did. And in some perverted form of chivalry, he even walked you to your front door and gave you a tender, almost sweet, kiss as though he didn’t have you bent over your own desk not even an hour ago, before departing into the night.

You’re in a fugue state as you work toward your nightly routine. You don’t taste your dinner, you don’t hear the music from your neighbor’s radio, and you especially don’t feel his cum flaking on the skin beneath your blouse. Nope. Definitely not. You’re too ashamed to even look at yourself going so far as to shower with your lights off.

As you settle into bed that night, your sleep is fitful as you try your best to decide what to do about this night. In the end, with all the evidence of your tryst washed away, you resolve to ignore these feelings at the very least until you have to see him again.

What you can’t ignore the next morning is your car, that had no business being there, in its usual spot, along with your keys in the ignition. Not really trying to think too hard on the implications you would rush to work hoping to clean up before your first client of the day.

To your surprise everything in your office is already in order: No furniture askew, no suspicious stains on the desk or chairs, not even the panties that you swore didn’t come home with you anywhere in sight. The only proof that last night even happened at all was the broken desk drawer and the slight tenderness on your ass.

The days following that session were hazy at best to you as, even during work, your mind was occupied by him. You formulated plans as to how best to address what happened and why it must never happen again. Elvis has always had a reputation as a bit of a cad, so perhaps you can both treat this as a one time thing. Something that he had to get out of his system in order to successfully further his treatment. Even in session he confessed that he had trouble with maintaining monogamy to almost all of his previous partners - though, you thought, he did immediately follow that up with the justification that he was looking for the “right” girl.

You pushed that notion away, he will understand - he has to understand - that it would be better to return to the previous professional relationship. So come Thursday morning, you take steps to effectively unsex yourself; no makeup, loose fitting pants and blazer, hair in a less than flattering style, the whole nine yards. All of this done in an effort to make yourself a less viable option for a sexual partner .

As you leave your apartment you catch a glimpse of your ill-fitting attire and you can’t help but be reminded how as a child you would wear your fathers suits and declare you were going to be a Doctor like him. As you would swim in his oversized coat, you remember feeling lucky to receive a dismissive glance your way and monotone orders to return the clothes back where you found them. You rush out to your car before you can dwell on that train of thought.

If your other patients noticed your sudden change in style that day, no one mentioned it. You had previously taken pride in the level of professionalism you were able to maintain, but in the grand scheme of things, looking frumpy for one day of work could hardly be deemed the worst thing you have done.

As 4 PM rolled around you were still in the process of convincing yourself that you were ready to confront this head on by not confronting it and acting as though nothing ever happened. You can do this- you have to do this- you told yourself.

4:15 PM, you were ready for the knock on the door that would not come that night.

4:30 PM, you were still waiting in a rigid state with your pen and notebook clenched in your hands, full attention at the wooden door, like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. You shudder at the comparison.

4:45 PM, you were justifying his tardiness with his upcoming concert, and even with your barebones knowledge of performing, you realize that these types of things are planned weeks, even months in advance. And so you wait.

5 PM and you’re already mentally packing up to go back to your apartment. You know that all of your things are sitting at your desk but you wanted to spend as little time looking at it as possible. These past few days, you had the irrational fear that even so much as looking at where your indiscretion happened would tip off everybody. You disregard that reflexive response that makes you clench your thighs together when you look in its direction.

5:15 PM you can no longer ignore the stiffness in your back but you're doing your best to disregard the feeling of rejection that has settled in the pit of your stomach. Because this seems to be the place where you make your worst decisions, you decide to pull out that damned bottle of wine. You see the teeth marks on the cork, and you push down the part of you that blushes at the thought of putting your mouth where his was.

It is in that moment with the stopper wrenched free and you thinking about a man you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about, does the shrill tone of your office phone ring. It’s embarrassing really how quickly your hand shoots to answer it, moreso when you answer with a mouthful of cork.

“Hww-” you quickly spit it out. “Hello this is Dr. Y/L/N.”

It is little comfort when you recognize the voice.

“Baby I’m so sorry that I missed tonight, but I coulda swore I told one a my boys to let ya’ know I wouldn’t make it.” he said apologetically. “We got rehearsal’s all this week for Saturday and my minds been all over the damn place.”

Baby, you thought as you took a quick gulp of wine. Early on, he had slipped and called you tha, maybe a month or two into his treatment. You, as gently as you could, informed him how you would appreciate it if he wouldn’t refer to you as such. He reassured you that he meant nothing by it as he apparently calls everyone that from time to time. You accepted that answer and didn’t say anything the few times he would say it later on.

Looking at the bottle in your hand, you had spent the last few days blaming it for being your first misstep in your career, but retrospect is funny like that and you’re now realizing it was one in a series of many over the last year. With him continually elbowing his way back into your life, you doubt it will be your last.

“That’s alright Mr. Presley, just please don’t let this happen again in the future.” is your response, wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you for your next session on Monday.”

“Speakin’ a that. I was hoping we could reschedule today for Saturday,” he said before you could lift the receiver from your ear.

“Mr Presley, I don’t work on Saturday’s,” you half-heartedly protested.

“Then you’re free,” he quickly countered. “Doc, it’s just that… I’mma need some help gettin’ my head straight before the show, cause it’s been over a year since I done this, and even longer since I done a show sober.”

You immediately clock what he’s trying to do, and for all the ill-advised actions you’ve taken in the last week, you didn’t get your license out of a cracker jack box. “Elvis, that is in no way appropri-”

“Well it’s the show,” he quickly cuts you off. There is a dark edge to his tone as he continues. “And what happened on Monday. I think I really need to talk to someone ‘bout it.”

It doesn’t have to be you, goes unsaid.

He’s got you there and you know it, and currently you’re in no state of mind to try to find a way around this. So rather than doing anything semi-responsible and enforcing the boundary you have set, you down most of what’s left of the bottle and agree.

“Darlin’ that’s perfect. If there’s one thing I can promise, it's a helluva show” You can almost feel the self-satisfied grin over the phone. “I also been thinkin’ ‘bout what you said with not lettin’ people know that you’re my therapist, and you’re right.”

The neck of the bottle is clenched so tightly in your fist, you’re concerned it may shatter at this point. That earlier feeling of rejection being quickly replaced with dread.

“So I think I best I send you a lil’ somethin’ to wear for the show, I want them knowin’ you’re my girl, not my shrink, and you don’t exactly dress the part Doll.” he says this with such a cool authority that leaves no room for argument.

You stared off into space with this offer. You’re idly reminded of months ago when you had him practice an exercise in control. He did, you observed, have an excessive need for control in almost every aspect of his life, but this mindset also held the detrimental effect that everything that went wrong was also his fault due to the control he felt. So you came up with this exercise so you could both figure out where it is reasonable to be in control, and in which places he could relinquish it a bit. One aspect he mentioned that he often controlled was the way his girlfriends dressed, which you will admit made you do a double take. The only thing you commented on that detail was that so long as both parties were consenting he was truly not in control of the entire situation.

Doll indeed, you think bitterly. Did he take it as a challenge? Whatever the case may be, one thing becomes evident. You have no doubt what his intentions are anymore, no overwhelming emotions clouding his judgment, nor any post-orgasmic high having him say things he doesn’t mean.

As you look at the near empty bottle of wine while you sit in the room where your career has lived and will inevitably die, you can hardly say the same thing about yourself.

Mark had insisted you keep it that night months ago, and after realizing that there was no way of returning it to Elvis without bringing up the incident again, you kept it in your office for the sole reason that it felt wrong to keep it in your apartment. Too Intimate, you had thought. You begin to wonder how your life would have been had you told Mark why you wished to refuse the wine. Maybe you would have been strong enough to put your foot down and keep this relationship professional… or maybe he would have taken the same approach you took, and let it slide under the guise of Elvis not knowing any better at the time. Elvis seemed to have that effect on people, of wanting to justify his actions in spite of it everything.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way he sounded when exhausted, or just maybe it was looking into Pandora's proverbial drawer and finally finding those lost panties with the evidence of your attraction to him stained into the fabric. Whatever it was you found yourself finishing off the bottle and agreeing to his requests - demands really- and drunkenly trying your best to rationalize to yourself why you shouldn’t burn your license to ash at this very moment.

The next day rolls around and you return to your normal wardrobe. Though that morning you can’t help but take an extra long look at it as though the promised new addition will change it fundamentally. You chalk that thought up to you still being hungover. As the day continues, you try your best to be more attentive to your patients that day, because even if you failed to do so once, these people deserve a space free from your own personal issues.

You’re not surprised to be met with a package at your doorstep, though the colored box and large bow it arrives in are a bit much for what you assumed to be a single dress. What you’re met with inside is in fact a full outfit complete with even the undergarments you assume you’re expected to wear. The style itself so far from your typical business professional taste, it circles into the territory of a disguise. You even have to admit that there is an air of brilliance to it, since you doubt even you would be able to recognize yourself in this outfit.

Though in that regard, you already have a lot of trouble doing so lately.

Your tentative plan as of right now is to attend the concert and take part in this impromptu therapy session, and you will discuss with him what happened and explain why it is in fact critical to his mental well-being that this affair goes no further. You begrudgingly admit that come Monday, you will have to start from square one with him, but this is the only path forward you can see anymore.

That Saturday morning is devoted to running in and out of grocery stores, trying to gather as many tabloids featuring Elvis as possible, if you’re going to -temporarily- play the part he wants you to play, you will have to look like it. The rest of the day is devoted to primping and preening to get said right look. This brings back memories from undergrad, you and a friend preparing for a double date and Priscilla, along with various other celebrity faces, taped to the mirror for inspiration. Specifically you remember after being able to achieve her dramatic cat eye, your friend joking that if this college thing didn’t work out for you, you could put in an application for being Elvis’ next girl. You laughed at how preposterous that idea was at the time.

Your thoughts of the past are quickly interrupted by rapid knocking at your front door, and you quickly put the finishing touches on your makeup and throw on the ensemble. At the door you’re met with a familiar blonde whose apparent agitation swiftly surpasses whatever momentary discomfort he clearly feels at encountering you once again. Though in that moment you’re at least grateful Elvis had the good sense to not involve anyone else in this matter (that and the fact he didn’t send a limo).

Getting into the car you’re praying for a long and silent trip to the show. Jerry not reading the room says to you “Sorry for rushing you out the door back there, um…” he says. “It’s just been a bit of a crazy week, and the Boss is just wigging out about every single detail.”

“I understand” you attempt to placate, wishing for this exchange to end as soon as possible. “You have a job to do.”

“By the looks of it, so do you,” he says in an attempt to joke, though he quickly cuts himself off after seeing you tense up. He quickly apologizes and as you turn to look out the window, you hear what sounds like a flask being opened and Jerry downing a good portion of it.

You resist the urge to demand a shot of whatever he’s drinking because, as poorly timed as that joke was, you are on the clock. And for as unprofessional as you have been lately, you don’t think you’ve quite gotten to the level of drinking right before a session. Because that’s what this is: an emergency/supplemental session that will precede a momentous occasion for your patient, and out of respect for his privacy, you are in disguise so that no one will know he’s even seeing a therapist. You’re hoping the more you tell yourself that the less ridiculous it will sound.

And due to the fact you're on the job you reason, it may be best to get an idea of his state before going in. “How has he been today? I’m sure the stress of the event is getting to him,” you ask.

“Yeah, uhh… he’s been in a bit of a mood all day,” he says carefully.

“Meaning?”

“He’s basically been sayin’ that he wouldn’t perform until he saw you,” he says, looking anywhere but at you.

And there it is, you think. You give a simple nod in acknowledgement to Jerry, as he is all too happy to let this conversation peter out. You now recognize what Elvis is attempting and using Jerry as a proxy for. Despite all your training that tells you that you’re not responsible for any actions your patients take, you feel yourself start to shoulder the burden of getting him to perform tonight. Not only that but it seems you also bear the responsibility of putting him in the right headspace to perform well tonight.

The rest of the ride to the show itself is quiet, which you’re grateful for, as it gives you time to steel yourself. Jerry as well seems to ease into a more relaxed demeanor the way one would when doing something that has become routine. It seems he’s no stranger to ferrying women to the King of Rock and Roll.

Regardless of the slight pang of sorrow you feel momentarily at that observation, you try to see the upside to it. That this… thing with Elvis, your patient you have to remind yourself, will be short-lived.

Arriving at the venue, you are immediately led backstage, and you’re not sure you can write off the feeling that everyone was watching you to paranoia on your part. Whatever it was, you surmised, there were more than a few people beyond Elvis expecting your arrival. As you were ushered to his dressing room, you felt equal parts dread and anticipation as to what would be on the other side.

What you weren’t expecting was your office. Though that may be a stretch, you can’t seem to find the logic in a dressing room having two chairs facing each other with a small table between them complete with a box of tissues right on top. The entire arrangement takes up an inordinate amount of space in an already cramped room, and you can’t help but conclude that it is intentional.

You find the man of the hour in an open robe (sans shirt, though thankfully with pants on) sitting cross legged on the sofa in what you recognize to be a meditative position. You wouldn’t say he is quite disheveled, but every time you’ve seen him, he’s looked nothing less than immaculate. So finding him in this state with his hair undone and no ostentatious clothing is slightly jarring. Upon hearing the door open he cracks open one eye, and seeing you his face breaks into that handsome grin you’ve become far too familiar with. “Y/N, baby you’re here.” he says feigning surprise.

Not even acknowledging what he just said, you make your way into the room and Jerry, clearly just as disturbed by the setup, closes the door behind you. You glance at the clock on the wall showing that you had a little over 2 hours until the concert was set to start, just enough time for a full session and then some for him to get ready for the show. There is no way this was not meticulously planned, you conclude.

You sit down placing your bag on the floor, as he takes his time to stretch out for a bit before he strolls his way to sit astride the chair across from you. There with an amused look on his face, he says nothing apparently wanting you to start.

Considering there is no protocol as to how to conduct a session in this highly specific situation, and not wanting to immediately open with the elephant in the room, you decide to begin with just idle chit chat. “So… um, I didn't know you practiced meditation.”

“Yeah, it was somethin’ I picked up in San Diego,” he says off-handedly.

“I’m glad that it works for you,” you say as neutrally as possible.

“Oh, it don’t,'' he clarifies. “It works in gettin’ everyone to leave me the fuck alone for awhile. But not in the other ways it’s supposed to.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement as he continues. “I got into yoga when I was down there too.”

“Do you find that works better for you?”

“Yeah,” he verifies. “When I feel somethin’ real bad, I gotta move. It don’t matter how.” This makes sense as he's a very physical person. You are aware of his love for Karate, and you briefly consider recommending he pick up Tai Chi as a happy medium between meditation and martial arts to help him in achieving mindfulness. Your thoughts are interrupted as he continues. “Too bad I ain’t been able to practice in a while.”

“And why is that?” you softly probe.

“I been needin” a partner,” he said with a sly grin, very much an offer.

There’s your opening, you think to yourself. This is the moment you can make a bid to reinforce some level of boundaries between the two of you. Where you can tell him that Monday was a mistake and should never happen again. That this infatuation with you is in fact detrimental to his mental well-being and will destroy your career. And most importantly that there is no future between the two of you.

“Elvis, please” you say, exhaling in frustration. “About what happened on Monday… I think it would be best if we-”

“Well,” he chimes in, “I think it best we save that talk for another time,” his severe delivery leaving no room for argument. Fear grips your throat as he continues in a notably softer tone, “Everything out there is ready for me to play, but up here,” he says, putting two fingers to his temple. “I don’t know ‘bout. Darlin’ I need your help right now, because I can’t do this without you”

Almost everything within you says to push forward no matter what, and tell him right here and now. The one thing that stops you is knowing for a fact he will be devastated with what you have to say. And then what? You leave and he’s unable to perform, leaving hundreds devastated. And come Monday will he even show up, or will he make the call and have you immediately reported for your part in this whole ordeal. Not to mention the long-term variables of if he will even want to continue therapy should you fail to get him ready tonight.

You sigh in defeat, as it appears you have no choice but to concede on this matter and focus on the immediate task at hand. “So you mentioned over the phone that your head’s been all over the place this week. Tell me, is this how you normally feel in the days leading up to a performance?”

He looks pleased with your question and answers “Not in the last few years no. I mean, first time in Vegas it was a little like this, but after a while that all became routine.”

He leans his chair back and reaches behind him to the vanity table to reach for a glass of water. This angle puts his full chest on display and you can’t help but rake your eyes over the hair there and follow the trail of it down to his-

Focus, you think to yourself.

He offers you a glass, and in spite of how dry your mouth feels at the moment, you are trying to no longer accept anything from him at this point regardless of how small, so you refuse. “Tell ya’ what though,” he says, taking a sip. “I ain’t feel this nervous since my early days of performin’ and I would shake somethin’ fierce on stage,” he laughs a little at this statement. “That’s actually parta where all my dancin’ came from.”

“I see.”

It’s unsettling how you could almost mistake the rest of your time together as a typical session with him. The only cosmetic differences being the harsh lighting from the vanity behind him and the uncomfortable feeling from the leather chair sticking to the back of your thighs. You’re also at a bit of a loss as to what to do with your hands without anything to take notes in, and the outfit has you feeling particularly vulnerable. As for his part you doubt you’ve ever seen him this relaxed in your presence before; leaning back with his legs spread and his robe exposing a mouth-watering amount of his torso. If you had to guess, it may have something to do with you being in his territory so to speak, as opposed to the typical setting of your office. Or maybe he’s just into your humiliation.

Aside from those factors, you would have even labeled today as a successful session… that is until the conversation takes a turn.

“I’ve done what feels like a thousand shows, most of them without all that crap Nic was pumping me with, but it feels like… I don’t know. Like that was some other guy that was performin’ and that he ain’t here tonight.”

“This ‘other guy’ has he always been a part of the way you perform?”

“I ain’t feel like myself on stage in a long time.” he said morosely.

“Elvis, I want you to try to recall a concert where you did feel like your true self. It doesn’t have to be the last time you felt this way, just the most memorable.” You replied leaning forward.

The half smirk that creeps on to his face makes you regret that question though. “Actually the show that comes to mind is the comeback special. You seen it before?” he asked.

Yes. “...No, I-I believe I missed that one,” you manage to stutter out.

He grins knowingly, “Well they had me in front of an audience, maybe less than a hundred people and had me dressed all in leather with only a small square for a stage. In spite all that I felt free especially since Parker had almost nothin’ to do with it,” he said wistfully. “He chewed me out later for it, sayin’ shit like how it was no real audience and that they were told when to clap. But I knew…”

His hungry gaze meets yours and you feel a kin to prey about to be devoured. “You wanna know how I knew?” he said.

In spite of your gut instinct that you are delving into dangerous territory with this conversation, you’re far too curious at this point. So you try to swallow that uneasy feeling and reply in the affirmative.

“I came in my pants,” he says, taking a sip of his water, as neutral and matter of fact as if he were just telling you what he ate for dinner last night.

“Wh-what?” you said, for the first time in your career, truly at a loss for words.

Sex certainly wasn’t a taboo subject to discuss with your patients, and it wasn’t even the first time you discussed it with Elvis himself. But those conversations typically surrounded your patient's fears of intimacy with a new partner, and even though that wasn’t a concern for Elvis, he did make reference to it when discussing his need to please others. Most importantly though when discussing sex with a patient, you’ve never actually had the experience with them.

“It was the weirdest thing, Doc. Never happened before, hasn’t happened since,” he said, at complete ease with himself. “Sure a few close calls here and there, but it never got to that point. Hell, it mighta been the suit itself that did it for me. What ya’ think it means doll?”

And what can you say to that really? You try to even out your shallow breathing as your mind races through the possible implications of this reaction. You have certainly never met another performer before so you’re unsure whether this is even unusual to those in his line of work, but at the same time most people who do what they love for a living also aren’t sexually aroused by it, let alone reach climax through it alone. Previously you would have labeled yourself as firmly within that category, but that damp feel beneath your dress proves otherwise.

Across from you, he waits patiently for your reply, but he is also openly delighted by your squirming state.

“I-” you clear your throat. “Um… Sex is a perfectly natural thing.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiles rakishly.

“Yes I…” you say, briefly losing your train of thought. “A way of interpreting the… arousal you feel on stage is that being there and performing in front of an audience comes just as naturally to you. As for what happened at your special, it may have been the moment you felt most acutely aware of your desire to be on stage.”

He nods his head and you continue. “You’ve mentioned previously how you were unsatisfied by your movie career by that point in time. So the return to the stage may have also acted as a cathartic release of all these pent up frustrations you were feeling up until that moment.”

He raises an eyebrow at that in the way he typically does when he’s confused by your wording. “Basically you were feeling unhappy for a long period of time, so when you felt the joy of being back on stage, you’re…” you hesitate, suddenly embarrassed. “Body, as a result misinterpreted that joy as arousal. And adding to that, Parker’s disapproval as well as the feeling of being free that you described. It all culminated into that… reaction.”

He sits on your presumption for a moment, before chuckling a bit. “I see where you’re comin’ from on that doc. Though I gotta ask.”

You pause, apprehensive to what he may ask. “Ask what?”

“What are my chances for a repeat performance tonight?” he asks in a way you could almost mistake as innocent. As you feel close to hyperventilating, he continues. “I mean those things you brought up from the special are here tonight sooo…” he quirks an eyebrow, putting it on you to continue.

“...well… um” you draw out, truly dumbfounded and without any words to respond to that. You’re only saved from this conversation by hurried knocking at the door behind you.

“Well, looks like we’re outta time here doc,” he said standing up, prompting you to stand up as well. With a hand on your lower back guiding you to the door, you don’t miss the fact he’s effectively dismissing you. “Baby, thank ya’ for comin’ down here tonight and settin’ me right. And I just want you knowin’ that this whole show is because of you. I don’t think I woulda made it this far without my girl” he said looking down at you and bringing you close while his other hand was on the doorknob.

Your primary focus is trying your best to collect yourself before you need to go out there, but you’re so astonished by how he just so casually slipped in “my girl” into there. You know then you have to say something.

“But… I’m not your gir-” you quickly cut yourself off as you see his jaw clench, the previous look of satisfaction on a dime replaced with one of intense indignation at your denial. Before you can even begin to feel regret for your refusal, his expression just as rapidly shifts to one of downright mischief.

Not wanting to find out what that look meant, you attempt to turn towards the door, only to be halted by an iron-like grip on your jaw. “Not my girl, huh?” he says, forcing you to look at him, as he brings his face closer to yours. He then whispers, his lips just barely brushing yours, “tell that to them.”

You can’t say you weren’t expecting him to bring his lips closer to yours, but you can say you weren’t expecting to be such a willing participant this time around. You can tell yourself all you want that you did it to save him from the embarrassment of being walked in on with a less than willing woman, but it seems, deep down, the both of you knew better. So you played your part as you grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck as your lips came together, and he was all too willing to believe in your role as his hand snaked down your back. You’ll never fully know (or at least admit) who closed the distance that night.

All you really know is that being in here with him as he was now, was nothing short of intoxicating, in a way it had never felt in your office. You were not one to participate in drugs, but as his tongue slips past your lips to wrap around your own, you truly believe you could become addicted to this. His scent, his taste, his touch, all of it threatened to consume you whole and never let you go.

He was so all consuming in fact, you barely registered the sound of the door opening beside you, but you definitely don’t miss what feels like a dozen sets of eyes in full view of the both of you. You’re aware that you should in fact be more embarrassed of your compromising position with your arms thrown around his neck and his hand firmly on your ass. But with all the shame you’ve been feeling this past week, this hardly registers as the worst. Though you do feel a spark of it when he pulls away, and you let out a small whine from being denied his plush lips, until you feel them near the shell of your ear.

His breathy demand for another session after the show is hard to deny in your state, and more so when you see the color of your lipstick haphazardly smeared across his downright sinful smirk. It goes without saying what that will entail, but you surprise even yourself by not immediately running for the hills. Instead you, with all the grace of a newborn fawn, stumble past a line of people rearing to get in and do their job. This venture, not at all aided by the playful swat he gives your behind. The “knowing” looks on some of their faces tells you what they are all assuming. Part of you wishes they were right, because doing that would somehow have been less shameful than what actually happened.

After that “session” you try to compose yourself as best as you can, and make your way to the ladies room. Alone in the restroom you see your face in the mirror and to your relief aside from the smudged lipstick, you look relatively fine. You reach for your bag to touch it up, only to realize that you forgot to grab it when he was leading you to the door. As you shudder at the thought of going back to retrieve it, you finally realize how much of a sopping mess you’ve made of your underwear.

Insanity is truly your only defense for your next course of action, as you quickly remove your panties and dispose of them.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you end up wandering around backstage with a new resolve to not think about him. You still have roughly another hour to kill before the show is set to start, so unsure what to do with yourself until that time, you attempt to strike up conversations with your fellow VIPs. Your attempt at keeping your mind off of him proves fruitless though, as it becomes apparent that word travels fast behind the curtains, and their interest in you begins and ends with Elvis. You’re flooded with questions as to what he’s going to wear tonight, what he’s going to sing, if there will be an afterparty at Graceland and subsequent requests for you to try to get them invited. The only time any questions are directed at you, it’s simply polite inquiry as to where you met him and how long you’ve known him, and you try to be as vague and non-descript as possible.

One woman remarks how she thinks she saw you in a magazine last week along with “the big man himself.”

“Guilty,” you reply with a nervous laugh, because you truly are. How would you even begin to try to explain the truth?

You are able to meet most of the members of the so-called “Memphis Mafia,” and get the rundown as to who does what in the group after asking in an effort to get a basic conversation going. It doesn’t go unnoticed that none of them ask what you do for a living, only mildly interested in the fact you’re the new girl, as though being Elvis’ “girl” is supposed to occupy the totality of your existence. Usually you would take offense to this, but under these circumstances, you know the fewer in the know, the better.

You don’t think you’ve ever truly considered the world he lives in until this moment. A world in which he’s surrounded on all sides by women that want him, and by men that admire and/or envy him. What does that do to a mind when everybody he meets falls into one of those two categories? How would one handle someone who doesn’t fit into either category?

Eventually though Jerry finds you and brings you to your seat, front row and center, because of course Elvis would. You know from his stories about his Vegas residency that he would often kiss women in the front row, and you already have a feeling as to how this is going to play out. As Jerry leaves, you contemplate making a break for it at this point, but without your purse, that idea is quickly tossed out.

You look around your area and breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that all are virtually unrecognizable. You know from the tabloids that this concert was deemed one for the ages already, being essentially his second comeback and with rumors flying around that there would be more than a few international attendants this fact is not all too surprising. There’s a small swelling of pride within you knowing that he is so loved worldwide that you quickly try to stamp down.

As the curtain goes up and the music starts to blare, you make the conscious decision that at this moment you are not his therapist, and that you are merely a fan. That you will be without worries at the state of your career right now, without fear that the APA is breathing down your neck, and definitely without any guilt to the sexual attraction you feel for him at this moment. Afterall you’re a fan, isn’t that just par for the course?

So as he steps on stage and immediately makes eye contact with you, you play your part. You get lost in it even, as you dance and sing and make a fool of yourself. He’s just… incredible doesn’t even begin to describe what he is as you’ve never seen someone move like he does, never felt music as you did in this moment. There’s not a single inch of the stage that’s not occupied by his presence as he’s able to keep the crowd fully enraptured for music they’ve undoubtedly heard hundreds of times before. His command over everything truly brings a new perspective to his King epithet.

Despite your best efforts you cannot help but think of the comeback special incident and in the brief moments between songs you can’t help but observe and this makes you feel all the more like a voyeur. In spite of the fact that there’s a couple hundred people watching the same show you are, they aren’t cursed with what you know. Unintentionally you read into every gyration, every hip thrust, even every time he throws his head back looking for any indication. You had thought about what he looks like in the throes of ecstasy an inordinate amount of times already this week, so you even compare every face he makes up there as well.

Eventually, after two demands for an encore, Elvis merely has to put a finger to his lips to command the rowdy crowd down. “Now before I go,” he pauses with a slight quirk in his lips as he hears their protests, but continues with “I’m gonna leave y’all with somethin’ new.” This statement is met with uproarious applause as he gestures to the band behind him and begins.

Want me to love you in moderation?

Do I look moderate to you?

Not even two lyrics in, you know you’re in trouble. Previously he had the decency to not single you out as he worked the entire crowd in front of him, but as he sings you know exactly who he’s directing this song to.

And are you any better? Like the other women in the front row you move to the stage, as you're overpowered with the urgent need to be as close to him as possible. You’re overwhelmed with just about everything at this point: the audience, the song, him, and all your conflicting emotions this past week all reach a crescendo as he kneels on the stage before you. You’re crowded by his fans all reaching out to touch him as though he were some divine being. But you knew better.

Girl, you better learn

Can’t hold it in,

And girl you better learn

I just can’t win

Cause I don’t see the worth

I don’t see the worst

He is something monstrous, demonic almost. Elvis is a siren-like creature who is leading you to your doom. As he leans down closer to you, you stand on your toes, willing your knees to not give in at a time like this. The women around you flock even closer, all trying to get a piece of him, while he puts a hand underneath your chin, his eyes challenging you to stop him. He may very well be a siren but you’re his victim who is all too happy to drown at this point.

And I’m still tryna figure out if it

Always

Has to hurt

Unlike the last few times, you were very much prepared for this kiss. At least you were, until he proceeded to lean away from you and plant the kiss on the woman directly next to you. Time slows at this moment, truly forcing you to take in every single detail of what is happening not even a foot away from your face. He kisses her with all the filth and passion you were craving in that moment, and she just as enthusiastically kisses him back.

His face is glistening with sweat from his performance that runs down onto her, but this woman doesn’t seem to mind. She will leave this concert and forever be able to have an interesting anecdote to tell at every party she will ever attend. This will be her one crazy story to tell about Elvis Presley, and the more logical side of you truly envies that about her.

Finally, after what was perhaps only seconds but felt like an eternity, he breaks away from the kiss, though that doesn’t ease the heavy stone that has settled in your stomach. You want to cry, you want to scream, and judging from the state of the women around you, you wouldn’t be at all out of place. You’re upset that you’re in this position, you’re devastated over the fact that this is the man who holds your career in the palm of his hand, and most of all, you’re heartbroken that you even wanted him to kiss you at that moment.

Did he not see you? Did he mistake her for you? Shouldn’t you be glad about this new development? That hundreds of people weren’t witness to you flagrantly breaking every rule and ethical responsibility you made upon becoming a therapist?

He answers all these questions with the single look he gives you as he stands before you, his lips now stained red from that random woman.

You want looove

You feel a tug at your elbow as Jerry once more guides you backstage. Elvis for his part shamelessly watches you walk away all the while belting out those final lyrics of his song. As the lights from the stage blink out, and the crowd proceeds to explode in near-deafening screams and hollers, and you see him bow out as the curtain drops. You try to make yourself numb to it all as you make your way through the bustling corridors, but in reality you can’t ignore your heartbeat thundering through you, nor the uncomfortably slick feeling between your thighs.

You have to get out of there and you know it. But you also want to stay and there’s no denying that. You have accepted that he has an unhealthy attachment towards you, and you naively thought you could work to dismantle it over the next few months to get him back on track. But seeing him kiss that other woman made you realize that this attachment threatens to be mutual, and that is truly where it will derail.

Before you can figure out what you’re going to do, you’re back in front of his dressing room door and you walk in not even having bothered to knock. You find him along with several members of his crew already in there but upon seeing you he grins and a simple wave of his hand has them all scurrying out, leaving the two of you alone. He stays seated at the vanity, too comfortable apparently, with his feet propped up, the upper half of his suit peeled off of him, and a towel around his neck. He doesn’t even bother to fully turn around to look at you directly, he simply watches you through the mirror.

“You enjoy the show Darlin’?” he says, lightly dabbing himself with the towel. “It sure as hell looked like you did out there.”

Despite knowing he saw how you behaved, you still try to lie with an indifferent, “You did good up there.”

“Ahh, baby” he draws out in a light teasing tone. “Don’t be like that. Why don’t you come over here and tell daddy what’s wrong?” Your breath hitches at his casual use of that word and you find your feet making the decision for you. You make your way over to him and you finally find your purse on top of the vanity. You go to grab it but in one fluid motion he grabs your hand and you find yourself on his lap. As he leans forward for a kiss, you see the red that still paints his lips and without even thinking you use the towel to wipe some of it off.

He makes a pleased hum at that, believing that this is what has you acting this way.

Is it not though? You think sarcastically. After rubbing off most of the color you drop the towel letting it fall back into place on his chest. He takes your hand into his, and your heart does an embarrassing little skip as he gives it a sweet kiss.

“Baby, I was raised to be a gentleman,” he said, adopting a chivalrous affect. “If my bestest girl don’t like me kissin’ others, all she’s gotta do is say so. Then I ain’t never gonna do it again.” His eyes pleading as he waits for your answer.

So that’s what his plan was, you think bitterly. You’re resentful over the fact that it worked at all. But he doesn’t need to know that.

You rip your hand away from him as you reply with as much resolve as you can gather, “You can do whatever you want Elvis,” before mulishly looking away. He evidently didn’t like that answer, as he stood up to prop you onto the vanity and placed himself between your legs. You try to escape his grasp only for him to place his hands at the top of your thighs, effectively pinning you in place.

“I can do whatever I want?” he says in a low, challenging voice, looking you directly in your eyes. It is only then do you regret your wording. Were you not so petrified, you would have admired his ability to quickly turn your own dismissive words into seemingly an invitation. There is no denying the trembling force in your body at this point and with the way he’s holding it is only inevitable that he will find your secret. And as though reading your mind, you feel his thumb brushing your inner thigh, and he finally notices the slick feeling in between. If you're going to be honest with yourself, you think you’re even more wet than when you walked in.

He makes an approving hum as he flips your skirt up, and you get the momentary pleasure of seeing his eyes widen at your lack of underwear. That is until he quickly bunches up the material past your hips and you feel mortified at being naked from the waist down in a room you don’t remember locking. You’re even more mortified as he kneels down and begins to pepper your inner thighs with light kisses. You instinctively try to close your legs, but his grip makes it impossible, and he notices your effort.

“Ahh, sweetness none of that,” he drawls out, emphasizing his point with a small nibble at the sensitive flesh that has you cursing. You feel his hot breath waft over you and as you’re trying to wrap your head around what’s happening, he teasingly licks a stripe up your slit, giving you a taste of what he has to offer. You gasp for air as though you’re about to drown.

“I can do what I want, can I?” he asks knowing you’re far too preoccupied to answer. “Well I want this,” he purrs, emphasizing his point with a soft kiss to your clit, which you meet with a strangled moan. He chuckles at your reaction before resting his head on your thigh and looking up at you. “But I gotta know what my girl wants,” he trails off.

Your muddled mind cannot even begin to process the question itself before he follows up with. “What’d ya’ say mama? Do you wanna be my girl?” he says looking up at you with those piercing blue eyes of his, and you know there is not even a choice anymore. You’re so far gone at this point, you hardly hesitate in saying yes. “No, no mama. I wanna hear you say it.”

You can already feel a few shameful tears trailing down as you cover your face with your hands, as though that will absolve you of your next words. “Yes… I want to be your girl,” you cry out desperately, and he dives straight in.

All of your composure is tossed out the window the moment you feel his mouth on your needy cunt, you moan and shout freely, no thoughts given to the people undoubtedly outside of the door. He’s going at an unhurried languid pace, exploring your nether regions, seemingly trying to learn what gets the biggest reaction out of you. He’s apparently indifferent to how desperately you need to cum. You grab at his hair and try to bring him closer, desperate for some control of this situation but the noticeable tightening of his grip on your legs make it clear that he’s going to take all the time he wants.

You’re there for what feels like hours before you’re at the point of begging him to let you cum. The King finally takes mercy on you as he stuffs his fingers into you while simultaneously nursing at your clit as you are finally allowed your release.

You’re a mess after that devastating orgasm, and as he brings himself back up to you, you don’t put up a fight to this kiss. You taste yourself on his lips, and the smallest, pettiest part of you feels victorious over that woman whose name you will never get to learn. Before you can dwell on that part of yourself, he spins you around so you’re facing away from him. Despite all of that you still feel yourself wanting for more, and as you look over your shoulder at him, you know he is very aware of that.

“Were you watching mama?” he said, pressing kisses to your neck as he undoes his belt. “Were you sittin’ there, wonderin’ if I did it again, and that’s how you got this wet?” You let out a small keen as you feel his cock just barely brushing at your entrance, and he presses a hand on your back, prompting you to bend over the vanity fully. You give a slight shriek as you feel a sharp swat on your ass. “Answer me,” he growls out, sending another shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you say, pushing yourself backwards to him.

Another swat on the other side, “Yes what?” he rasps.

“Yes daddy,” you nearly cry out and you bury your head into your arms in shame as he drives into you. Once slotted fully inside, he pauses giving you time to adjust to him. The stretch of him burns only slightly this time around, though mostly you feel satisfaction as he feels achingly familiar.

“You don’t gotta worry mama,” he pants next to your ear. “I saved it all for you,” he says as he slowly begins to push his hips back and forth into you. You find yourself just as eager as you push backwards to keep him within. You close your eyes to the sensations, as this feels like the closest you’ve come to a reprieve in this whirlwind of a week he’s caused. You want to lose yourself here, and for once want to believe as he does that this is any way healthy or sustainable for the both of you. This delusion has the ability to ruin you, but for the moment you truly just want to indulge yourself in it.

Reality will always win out though. At some point he thrusts so hard, your feet no longer meet the ground, and you have to brace yourself on the mirror. Here in this position you’re truly forced to look at yourself for seemingly the first time as you truly are. You see your eyes bloodshot and pupils blown, your mascara trailing down your face, and, mortifyingly, you're drooling from the pleasure at not only what he’s doing to you but the sight you're met with in the mirror. You also see him behind you, looking more animal than man with the way he forces your hips to meet his pace and the snarl that mars his face. It’s all too much for you to handle. The only way to describe how hard you came in that moment would be violently, as you convulse and sob terribly at all the shame and pleasure you’re experiencing in that moment.

You feel him pull out, and moments later you hear a shuddering howl as he paints your lower back with his cum, effectively marking you as his. You sob even harder with the realization you had not even been thinking about protection in the last week, and now you fear that there will be another cord that will forever tie you to him.

If he sees your tears he ignores them and places a kiss on your cheek before sitting you down in front of the mirror. He lets you know that he has a press conference soon, but that he will meet you back home for the afterparty. He quickly dresses himself while you use a tissue to fix your makeup and try to make the wrinkles in your dress less noticeable. Once outside the door he hands you off to one of his men with orders to take you back to Graceland.

It is only as you’re pulling up to Graceland do you realize you gave no resistance whatsoever to his whims and didn’t even try to insist you go back to your own apartment. You pay no thought to that as you see there are already many of his people there to celebrate his astonishing performance, and the last thing you need is to draw more attention to yourself by being the one woman having a breakdown at the party.

So you slip back into your role as his girl, though can you even say that it is simply a role anymore when you fully agreed to it.

Eventually he arrives home and is met with all the praise and glory he has earned tonight. Yet he barely looks at anyone before he seemingly sweeps the room to zero in on you. He grins and approaches you to sweep you into a hungry kiss which is met with various wolf whistles and cheers from those around you. You are still playing your part for the audience you tell yourself.

The rest of the night is spent on his arm essentially advertising to all attendants that you're his. Eventually he announces to no one in particular that he is starting to feel tired, and it feels like only moments later when a mass exodus occurs, no one daring to stay past their welcome. The grip he has on your waist though tells you that he has no plans of letting you go.

That night and the following day in Graceland you spend in a daze of fucking and resting and even more fucking, interspersed with conversation between the both of you. Surprisingly you find yourself opening up to him as well, and with the conversations being not so focused on him, it’s easy to pretend that this is even remotely natural.

You do make a few attempts to leave that day, each time met with some pushback on his part to get you to stay. Each attempt is met with some excuse on his part be it being too early, his fans outside the gates, his exhausted state etc., and immediately following your concession, you are bombarded with physical affection and compliments as to how understanding and what a good you are for him. You allow yourself to indulge in this fantasy for a little while longer, and stay another night with him.

The next morning, reality sets back in, and there is no denying your active part in this anymore. He kisses you good morning and he reminds you that you have work today. You’re amazed that he hasn’t already made you cancel all of your appointments today, until you remember who you have your final session with later. You shower and use his toothbrush, no longer hesitating to do something you would previously labeled as far too intimate to do with anyone, let alone a patient.

You are however disturbed but not surprised when you exit the restroom and find a full outfit ready for you. This one is more in line with your regular work attire but the blouse does have a rather loud pattern, a far cry from your admittedly limited, colorwise, wardrobe. Without the tags, you briefly wonder if this is something left behind by the previous stand-ins or if he bought it for one of them to better pretend they were you. You push that thought aside as you finish getting ready for the day. Being early on a Monday morning you are able to be driven to your office without the worry of any ogling eyes. He even gives you a parting kiss at the door and it feels far more domestic than it has any right to be.

You would deem that day almost normal. You are of course exhausted from the strange weekend you had, but somehow you also feel unfettered when compared to the stressful week you had previously. You receive some compliments on your blouse, and you are able to, through tightlips, confirm yes when someone asks if you got it from someone special.

Other than that you are able to get back to your standard attentive self for your patients. Having worked with Elvis for nearing a year at this point, has had the unexpected benefit of making your other patients seem easier in comparison. You laugh at their funny stories, you dole out advice and insights when asked, and you comfort them when needed. These moments in between your nearly all encompassing thoughts around Elvis, you find, are a welcome respite from the looming black cloud that is your future as a therapist.

Eventually though 4:30 PM arrives and you hear a knock at the door.

#my fic #elvis x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #for once #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere #yandere!austin!elvis

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