#And it looks so messy all of the time because it's that weird white people not curly hair poof thing.

[rafesproperty]

Rafe Cameron x Reader GF <3

Rafe with a girlfriend that loves to read. He doesn’t get it. Really. But he’d do anything to make his girl happy. ❤️‍🩹

Just Rafe being disgustingly sweet and spoiling reader…

I wanna make a part 2 where he finds out about annotating cuz that scenario is just hillarious to me 😭 lmk if you want it!

» masterlist

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“Hey, baby,” Rafe mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, it was early in the morning and his voice was still rough, his hair messy and his eyes barely open as he reached for your coffee and took a sip. You were staying at Tannyhill for a while because his dad was on some family trip with Sarah and Rose.

You chuckled and reached for your coffee, snatching it from his hand. “Morning.”

He started to make coffee for himself as well, you’d normally admire his back in the white shirt he was wearing, but you were almost finished with your book so you kept reading, eyes glued to the page. Rafe noticed and looked over his shoulder at you. “Wheezie’s still sleeping?” His eyes trailed down to the table, one singular book laying there but a bunch of mini colorful papers and pens laying around it. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed there was no notebook tho. Weird.

“Mhm,” you gave a quick nod, clearly more focused on the text in your book than on him. “Made you some waffles.” You added and kept reading the page quickly. Suddenly you let out a gasp.

“What?” Rafe quickly turned around, his flight fight or fight mode on immediately. Then he let out a frustrated groan when he realised why you gasped and he leaned against the table, flexing his arms (not happy that you didn’t even look), and sneaking a glance at the page.

“Oh, my fucking God. I need to know the rest.” You let out a tortured moan and looked up at him, suddenly realising you were not alone and that your very much judgy boyfriend was staring at you. You felt your cheeks flush. “Sorry, um… it just… was intense is all.” You closed the book shut, avoiding eye contact with him.

Rafe grinned. “You’re so weird.” He mumbled and ran a hand through your hair. “So, so weird it actually makes you cute as fuck.” He whispered as he leaned down to you, you closed your eyes and purred softly at his touch. He smirked, satisfied that he finally got your attention.

You chuckled at his comment, looking up at him. You knew Rafe didn’t get it. He was very much reality-oriented and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to force him to read a book if his life depended on it. Yours maybe… but you’d probably die anyway. Plus there was no way he’d ever find the time in his schedule to read something. He was either taking care of business or spent all his free time with you and you only, and intended to keep it that way.

He went back to making coffee and you pulled out your phone, looking up the next book in the series you were currently reading. The thing is it was still a fresh release and everyone loved this series so it was sold out everywhere, hard to get and if a store had it they put an insane price on it, knowing some people would buy it anyway.

“30 fucking dollars for a paperback? Fucking assholes.” You slammed your phone down and Rafe turned around, giving you a look of genuine confusion.

“What’s wrong?” He had no idea what a paperback means, or how much books even cost. Thirty dollars sounded normal to him… cheap even.

“What’s wrong? Baby 30 bucks would be insane even for a hardcover.”

“A what?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s fucking ridiculous. They put a big price on it because they know people want it and some people will buy it but I-“

“I’ll get it for you.” Rafe stopped your rant and sat down next to you with his coffee and the waffles you made earlier.

“What? No, Rafey, no. It’s so fucking expensive.”

He genuinely grinned at your statement. “Baby, it’s 30 bucks.” He rested his hand on your knee, drawing little circles with his thumb, trying to ease your mood. He was still sleepy, normally you’d admire how pretty he looked with his hair all messy and eyes puffy.

“No. That’s not the point. It’s too much for a book. Baby a paperback is usually around 10 dollars.”

“So?”

You groaned. Oh how you wanted to rant to someone about how stupid it was, but of course Rafe didn’t understand. Where was Wheezie when you needed her?

Rafe grabbed your phone and checked the location of the bookstore. You both ate your waffles and chatted about some other things for a while. He eventually got up. “Get dressed, we’ll go get it.”

“Rafey it’s really okay-“

“Shut upppp,” it was his turn to groan in annoyance now and you chuckled at his expression. “Wanna make you happy baby, I don’t give a fuck if it costs a thousand. Get dressed.”

There was no arguing with Rafe once he made up his mind. You were on his bike within a few minutes, holding on to him as he parked in front of the bookstore. He grabbed your waist as he led you inside, holding you close to him — it was a thing he did whenever you went to public together.

You immediately knew where to look for the book you wanted, but your eyes lingered on some new releases on your way over to the fantasy isle anyway, remembering you wanted some of them.

Rafe followed closely behind, texting Barry back on his phone about something.

There were two girls standing next to the fantasy isle and you heard them rant about how overpriced this specific book is and how unfair it is. You really couldn’t agree more. You reached for it and sighed. “Oh God,” you mumbled to yourself when you saw the price. Not thirty, but thirty fucking two.

“Right?!” One of the girls looked at you, obviously also pissed off. “I mean, how greedy can they get.” She ranted.

“Yeah I threw a tantrum when I saw how much it is this morning.” You laughed and she laughed as well, the other girl adding in her own complaining and you were chatting about it for a while, talking about the events of the first book in the series. Rafe was behind you for a while but he got annoyed with Barrys shit over the phone so he found a chair to sit on and let you talk to the girls.

“Right, um, I’ll get going.” You eventually said to the girls when you noticed Rafe was now just scrolling on his phone. You didn’t really wanna keep him waiting.

“Wait you’re actually buying it?!”

“Um,” you let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, well, no… my um, boyfriend’s getting it for me.” You admitted, you didn’t want to brag but you also didn’t want to say you’re getting it and take the credit for something he’s paying for.

“Oh wow, lucky.” One of the girls smiled, sneaking a glance at him. You could tell just from the look in her eyes that she found Rafe scary. Most people did.

“I’m jealous,” the other whispered, whether about your boyfriend or the book was not clear. You smiled and said your goodbye, and went over to Rafe who was now on his feet, leaning against the wall.

He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw you only came back with that one book. “Did you fucking read the whole thing already?”

“What do you mean?” You grinned, ignoring his grumpiness.

“I thought you were picking shit. What were you doing?”

“Oh no, I was chatting with some girls. Sorry. They also had a lot to say about the pricing.” You smiled at him apologetically.

“Well yeah, but go pick more books.” He said annoyed. He didn’t really mind waiting for you but he didn’t understand why you only grabbed one.

“No, baby, this one’s already overpriced as fuck I don’t wanna-“

“For Gods sake Y/N, we’re already here. Get more. Wanna spoil you baby.” He brushed his finger against your cheek and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled at him and tried to hide your blush.

“Okay, alright. Can you—“

“Mhm,” he knew what you were asking immediately and grabbed the one you already had so you can go look at some more.

You were walking around the isles, checking out a bunch of books. You’d lie if you said you didn’t want almost every single one. As you were reading the back of some modern romance Rafe appeared behind you, he came closer to you and put one hand next to your head, leaning against you. You could feel his breath at the back of your neck and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Isn’t that just about sex?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, not noticing that the girls you were chatting to earlier were standing next to you and Rafe.

He seemed genuinely confused. “Why’d you read about it when we can do it?”

“Rafe,” you laughed again and turned around to face him, giving him a look, blushing when you noticed there were other people too.

“What? I’m serious. Bet I can make you feel better than some words on paper.” He brushed his hand against your back and you felt your whole body tense up… that is until you heard the girls next to you giggle.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled, embarassment evident in your face. But Rafe just smirked, always eager to make you flustered.

“Besides,” you added, putting the book back, “you’d be surprised what a few words on paper can do to you.”

He gave you a susprised look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah where do you think I learned all my tricks?” You said jokingly and he grinned as well.

“Dunno, you were pretty innocent before I corrupted your pretty mind.” He mumbled next to your ear and nibbled at the skin of your exposed neck, softly kissing a mark. His mark.

Rafe smirked when he noticed the way your body reacted by leaning closer to him, and reached over you to grab the book you placed back. “So we’re buying it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow. You were obviously intrigued by it, he thought.

“It doesn’t sound that interesting,” obvious lie, “’m gonna look for something else.”

“Get something else and this as well?”

“No, Rafey, books can get-“ but he just rolled his eyes and held it next to the first book you picked. Already made up his mind.

You knew he’d just get it no matter what you said. “Wait, it’s a sequel, can you—“ You looked up, not only was this store overpriced as fuck but they obviously also had zero respect for small people.

“Hm, here,” he leaned even closer, brushing his lips against your ear, trapping you a little, your back pressed against the bookshelf. “Which one?” He teased you with a smirk, his fingers brushing your hair aside to make the marks he left there the other day visible, his breath brushing over them.

Then he got the book you pointed at, leaving you shivering just a bit more. “Needing me so bad for everything…” he murmured happily.

Rafe figured quickly that you’d act all humble the whole time. You always picked up a book, read the back, smiled at it… and put it back. Every. Damn. Time. And after an hour of him waiting you had the audacity to come to him with only two books. He didn’t say anything, just got up, grabbed them from your hands and made his way to the cashier.

“Hey, princess, hold this for me.” He handed you the four books as he wanted to reach into his pocket for his wallet on the way. You took the books without questioning him, and he quickly grabbed most of the books he noticed you were checking earlier. He also grabbed the better ones, the ones that were more expensive… hardbacks? That’s what you called it, right? So quickly you didn’t even really get the chance to protest.

“Rafe-“

“Shut it,” he growled and this was the first time today he didn’t say that in a joking manner.

So you did.

“Everything alright, sir?” The cashier asked. Rafe gave her a quick nod and noticed they had some snacks — mostly chocolates — there. So he grabbed a few and added that to the pile of books.

He waited for the cashier to finish her job when you suddenly realised something.

“Rafe, wait.” You mumbled and ran off. He didn’t really understand but you came back with one more book a second later. He didn’t mind at all. Tho it didn’t really seem like your style, compared to all the other books… this one was colorful and seemed like some rom-com high school bullshit, but he didn’t question you.

“Your total’s $273, sir…”

You felt your body freeze. “Rafe you don’t-“

But he already pulled out his card without blinking an eye. “Told you to shut it.” He whispered and grabbed the bags with your books and threw his free arm around you, leading you out of the store.

He let out a sigh when you both exited the store and you were afraid for a second that it was because it really was too expensive.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

Fuck.

“The worst sugar baby ever.” He added and gave you a relaxed smile.

Oh… that’s what he meant. You felt relief as you smiled at him as well, laughing at his nickname for you.

“Thank you, baby.” You mumbled and wrapped your arms around his waist as you both made your way to his bike.

“Mhm, anything for you. Anytime.” He kissed the top of your head and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Wheezie was already up when you both returned to Tannyhill. She was excited to see all the books you got so you sat down on a couch with her and showed her everything, telling her about each one. Rafe didn’t really care… plus all the fantasy terms started to give him a headache so he minded his own business, dealing with something on his phone again, occasionally resting his hand on your thigh.

“Oh yeah, this one’s for you. I knew you wanted it.”

That caught his attention. He looked up from his phone and saw Wheezies eyes sparkle as she flipped through the book you picked for her. He felt his heart warm up. You really were thinking of his little sister too… He’s so going you wife you up one day. Probably soon.

He sneaked his arm around your waist and squeezed you gently, thanking you.

[blackheartedangelsandbrokenwings]

Me: *sobs for an hour because I think I have to cut my hair off for disability reasons*

Me, four days later: *brushing my hair* Dang, this is some pretty hair.

[deaddovedecadence]

Title: First Meeting (The Sunshine Verse)

Summary: You come face to face with the leader of the Batclan mob

Warning(s): Possesive behavior, scarring, kidnapping

You don’t remember being drugged, you don’t remember losing track of Lyre, you don’t remember going anywhere and yet you’re here, stuck in an unfamiliar room, a chain on your ankle. You’re unsafe, you know this, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The room is clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, and it smells like lemons, not lemon scented cleaner but real, fresh lemons. You hate it. It's not your first time being kidnapped but usually you’re confined to a dark room or messy, dirty basements that make you want to throw up. This is your first time being kidnapped since joining the force (you had a really unique childhood okay)  and you can’t help but wonder why you've been taken, if someone thinks you'll have real information for that.

Soft, well muffled sounds start up next to the door but quickly fade to silence. You hate it here, the thick silence, the not knowing where your best friend (brother) is, the chain that rests on your ankle. Speaking of the chain, you haven’t tried to walk yet and you can’t help but be curious. Slowly, carefully,, you get yourself out of bed and walk to one of the doors, letting it creak open. It;s only a bathroom. There’s one other door in the room and you’re pretty sure that you know where it leads. Out of here. You start walking towards that door but the chain stops you before you can get too close. Going back a few steps, you make a few loops in the area that seems safe and attempt to run towards the door. Immediately the chains are pulling you back and you slam to the floor. Well whoever has you certainly isn’t an idiot, which makes your job all that much harder. 

Eventually you pull yourself off of the floor and crawl to the bed. As soon as you’ve arranged yourself in a manner that doesn’t hurt too much, you’re asleep. 

“Lyre,” you call, listening to the echoing chirps of the birds, trying to ignore the sounds of “lyre, lyre, not lyre,” to themselves, loud as can be. It’s foggy out today, but not so much that you can’t see in front of you. The walk to work is weird without your best friend, but peaceful, even though the birds are chirping loudly, mocking birds calling Lyre’s name. As you’re approaching the police station, you note the crowd of people, how their murmurs grow and change. They’re all saying his name. You get closer and your best friend (brother) is just laying there, spread out on the pavement, his blood staining everything a terrible shade of red. You kneel down, staring at him. Lyre’s eyes are wide open, unseeing and you can’t help closing them. Your hands are red now. 

You wake up screaming. 

It takes a minute of blind panic for you to calm down and become aware of your surroundings again. You’re in the same room as yesterday and still sore as fuck. The only real change is that there’s a chair in the middle of the room, well more like a throne (you may or may not role your eyes) and a man sitting on the throne. He’s wearing a venetian carnival mask, black with a white bat around each eye. Every gothamite knows it as Sire’s mask. 

You’ve been kidnapped by the fucking bats. Shit! 

“May I help you?” You ask politely as you can manage. Sire’s mask, cold and porcelain keeps smiling,golden even as the man takes off his fucking mask. You’re going to die, you’re going to fucking die. You look down so you can’t see his face. The man sighs.

“You can look up. I have no plans to kill you. Rather I’d like to thank you. You took care of my son while he wouldn’t allow me to.” Now you’re confused. You chance a look up and meet the eyes of bruce fucking wayne, gotham’s biggest  philanthropist. You don’t even know what to say, because the man who’s been credited for saving Gotham is the one keeping it in order as the cruelest man on the east coast.  “I don’t understand Mr.Wayne. I don’t know any of your children.” 

Bruce Wayne smiles faintly, “Not even Jason?” Every single person born and bred in Gotham knows the tragedy of Jason. It’s said that a mobster went after him and killed him, and in revenge Mr. Wayne swore to oust the mob from Gotham city. Knowing what  you know now makes you wonder what really happened. “No offense but I’m pretty sure that Jason is dead.” Wayne laughs bitterly. “We thought so but when your friend Lyre had to go to the hospital,, my doctors found something pretty interesting. A blood match. Would you like to guess who exactly is the match” everything starts to fade out and go dizzy. You were the one that made Lyre go to the hospital because he’s always hated hospitals. “Was it Jason?” 

“It was Jason.” Wayne unless his legs, neatly rearranging himself. “I’d like to tell you a story.” You shrug, looking away. “When my son was a child, he lived on the streets. One day I had a meeting in Crime alley and he was crazy enough to try and steal the tires off my car. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. It’s so much like the Lyre you know that you know, mischievous and carefully reckless, always doing something that he shouldn’t be. What was real? “And when I came back to my car, there was this tiny vicious little boy fighting my guards and fucking winning. I’ve always been fond of stubbornness and there was something about Jason’s desperate desire to survive that stuck me so I brought him home with me. He’s been a member of the family ever since.” 

When Wayne talks about Jason, you’re reminded of a Pet owner talking about their best show animal or something. He’s not talking about them like they’re humans but as if they’re prizes to be won. He sounds like a collector, marveling over his trophies. You can’t help but want to upset this man, can’t help but dislike him. 

“If he was a member of your family, why did he leave you?” Maybe he’ll hurt you, maybe he’ll kill you but either way you’re going to mouth off for lyre. Wayne’s expression doesn’t even change.  “I have six other children,” he explains, “and half of them have anger issues. Do you really think that you’re going to phase me?” 

Your logical mind reminds you to be polite, your desire to live tells you to go apeshit. “That doesn’t answer my question,” you snap, ignoring his question all together. He doesn’t even blink. “Jason left because he didn’t agree with our methods. He did not understand the reasons I allowed my youngest to work in the basement at twelve nor did he appreciate our love. “ You’ve heard the stories from Lyre about his family, about the scars he carries from their love. Now that you've met Wayne you can’t help but wonder how many of those scars are physical. There’s a scars on Lyre’s back, tally marks, five of them to be exact. Are those from here? Are his tattoos from here? 

“When do I get to see Lyre again?” 

Wayne smiles Serenely, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a monster, instead he looks soft, and almost genuine. “When Jason calms down enough to be safe to be around again.” You tilt your head, wonder what he means and carefully do not ask. “Am I stuck in here permanently?” Wayne shakes his head politely. “No you’ll be coming to dinner tonight and Alfred will help you order anything that you might need.” That’s not what you mean. You want to go home. “Can I go home?” “This is your home.” You scoff and bear teeth. “My home is a little apartment by the wharf, not a mansion full of crazy people.” 

Wayne’s smile turns sharp, vicious. “I’d like to remind you that your privileges hedge on your good behavior. It’d be very easy to lock you away until you’re feeling more polite.” You get the feeling that wayne isn’t making a threat. He’s making a promise. 

[shuenkio]

Juno | Lhs.

Paring: Heeseung X M!reader | Genre: Fluff.

Synopsis: Thought he'd be disgusted by your love letter however who knows what he actually feels toward you? When your friend accidentally puts that for fun note in your gift that you're about to give him?

Cw: Nothing.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A@N: Christmas's laterally 3 more months away but who cares, I wanna make a change 💪 plus Juno are on repeating, so why not make an inspiration fic about it?

The Earth's spinning, people are living their lives in their own way, especially with their loved ones. You wonder, to the point of this age, should you just grow old as an old bachelor or find someone? Well, looking at yourself in the mirror already answers all your questions; you find yourself didn't match your satisfaction.

Insecure about your look wasn't enough; another thing is you've been hopeless romantic all of your life. Deep down, you wanted to have someone stay by your side, holding your hand while looking at the sky when it's sunset, cuddle when it's rain, compliment all the sweet things you've ever needed every day, and last but not least, you wanted someone to love you.

It's a silly daydreaming; however, every single day you can't go a day without thinking about anyone randomly popping out, riding their white horse, kneeling in front of you, and asking you, Would you be their partner? That's kind of crazy. Ever since then, brushed it all off as if it's nothing.

Continue to work hard for your bill in this messy industry. Surprisingly, God always has his own plan; he won't let you die alone... Right? Apparently, there's someone just moving in next to your apartment, and it's a man. Oh my. No, you can't be thrill just because he's a man; M/N, behave yourself.

That's how thirsty you are; later on, you thought you're the problem and started to behave yourself to be less attracted to a stranger, especially a man. On one holiday night, while back from work as you were unlocking your door, it was a coincidence when the new guy came out at the same time. Both of you never get the chance to greet each other because you're such workaholics. He greets you with a warm smile on his face, offering a handshake, as you hesitated to but still did.

He then introduces himself as 'Heeseung' called 'Evan' for short. He also said he never gets the opportunity to meet someone, mostly who are his neighbors since they are always out of the house just like you. For now, Evan wanted to invite you for a coffee. Oh. Spare a glance at his towering figure up and down; you realize he's positive; no bad energy from him; yes, you happily agree. A day turns into a week, a week turns into a month.

Trying all your hardest not to fall in love with Evan, who likes to do all those weird gestures that make your stomach fill with butterflies every damn time. Maybe you lack affection, sort of. He looks cool, is an ACE in everything, at least he can cook ramen, is a green flag in your perspective, is gentle and respectful of the boundaries, but one thing that made you stop midway was he can't be gay.

Evan is probably a straight guy that you mistake with his clingy behavior. Sigh, a lesson of life learned as a homosexual person. It's not right to force him to like you back, isn't it? Not even right to confess your true heart when he's so straight code, or he's not? Or is it worth pouring away all the heavy weight in your chest? The TV play in the living room, an announcement that today is going to be snow on this special day too, a Christmas day.

Brainstorming to seek out his favorite thing as you pop out an idea by gifting him a logo set; he loves it too much you couldn't understand why. As you were preparing the gift with all your friends together in a room before going out to celebrate in the city, you suddenly wanted to write a confession note for fun—write everything that had been living in your heart for a long time that has been hurting—a poem, to be honest, well, a little freaky, because you know you'd throw them away anyway.

"You make me want to make me fall in love."

"Wanted you to adore me back, hold me like you always did, and always joke, telling me I'm your only friend."

"Sorry, I like you, but I can't help it."  "Liking you was the best experience in my life, and I hope for nothing but still us to be friends."

Out of the blue, coincidentally, once you finish the note, your friend happens to pull you for a group photo. While you were busy posing, one of your other friends had nothing to do, so they went to wrap all the gifts of all of them. Usually, at every Christmas festival, they are in charge of who does the wrapping. The group united is over; after they're all stepping foot in the city, they've all vanished. Holding your gift like a lost child, looking at the crowd of people who's busy with their own business.

The snow keeps falling down from the blurry sky nonstop, so cold yet it fits the vibe you were going for. Snuggle your hands inside of your pocket; you leave the scenes as you drag your feet to somewhere quiet, your favorite park that used to be lively but now it's a field of snow. Taking a hot breath under the cold temperature, a shadow cast towering upon you, looking up to see, it was actually your greatest neighbors, Evan.

"What are you doing here, Fox?"

"Me? Oh, just chilling; I don't like crowds anyway." response, the tip of your nose turns pink, which makes Evan find it adorable.

"Why? It's Christmas; you should go enjoy yourself!" Taking about Christmas alarms your mind; you take out the wrapped gift and hand it to him. He caught off guard to the gift you have for him. Everyone would give him gifts during this festival; never make him flinch but you, a different story.

"Ugh, don't get the wrong idea; you're my neighbors after all; neighbors gift neighbors, isn't that normal? Take it, unbox it," take a hold of his palm, and give him the gift while waiting patiently for his expression. Hearing you say those, he did as told. Unveil all the tie, tearing all of the paper. Evan sees a cartoon Lego set inside with a small scratchy note that is about to be trash. The corner of Evan's lip, tight into a cocky smile as he takes out the small note, and hands up to the light street nearby. Maybe he didn't laugh at the Lego set but something else.

Seeing a note that you did not put in there and a confession note too, your eye wide open. The heart inside of your chest is pounding and racing far from the beat. You were nervous and panicking. How can it flow in there? Oh, wait, don't tell your friend to put it in there; naur, screw you. Quickly get up from your seat. I wanted to grab that note away; however, who are you kidding, he was 180 cm while you? A tiny little person.

"Evan, give that back; it's not; it's not the right note. My friend mistakenly put them there. DON'T READ IT." jumping up and down, up and down to snatch the piece of paper away, which is no use. All you got was to exhaust yourself.

"Oh, let me see, hmm, mistaken? But I see your name under here from me, M-N. How is that a mistake?" Realizing Evan already read it, you stop there frozen; the outcome would be something you are not going to like. Same goes for Evan too. You thought he'd be all serious and disgusted by your love note yet replaced by giggles. Um what?

"You, M/N, why have you not told me sooner?"

"Because... You look straight, i guess. Sorry to assume, but you did look like it."

"Oh, come on, why should I be straight when you're alive?"

"I beg pardon??"

"The word 'I like you' is out trending, so I'd say I. Adore. You, my M/N. My gift for you is

'i love you too'

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Crd to all the room rightful owner: [divider Alanitalenia]

🗣️ ps: I was dead ass sick writing this, but still cooked anyway 🫂.

[yournightmary]

Roommate!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of weed, being drunk and creepy men

AN:: Hi! I’m really glad (surprised) you all liked my last one:) I’m taking requests, only smaller things though:( still trying to get a hang of the whole writing thing.

part II here!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who was so desperate to save some money that she posted a roommate ad online. First 10 people were total creeps, then there were like 5 different guys that thought it was some kind of a sexual offer. But then you reached out.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who at first was really nervous to meet you, a little scared about you actually being a 40 year old white man.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who hid most of her nerdy stuff because she was afraid you would make fun of her or find her weird. Stuffed all of her funko pops into her closet and shoved her posters under her bed :(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who for the first like 2 months wouldn’t be found dead in the same room as you. And if by some miracle she was, she would be so painfully awkward. She was scared that she’ll make you uncomfortable somehow, but you were just like ??? you thought she was really nice and cute??

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who spent most of her time at Jesse’s babbling about how funny and cool and beautiful you are. She felt a little bad about it, you were just her roommate after all. A roommate she was crushing on like a middle schooler.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who stopped laughing at the ‘and they were roommates’ jokes, instead she would get embarrassed and immediately think about you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who finally got the balls to befriend you when one time Dina and Jesse paid her an unexpected visit.

“Do you uh-… you wanna hang out with us?” She asked you awkwardly, fiddling nervously with her fingers. Her heart was racing and her hands were so clammy… god what was happening to her?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who absolutely loves watching dumb tv shows with you. I’m talking Love Island, Kitchen nightmares, Big Brother- all that crap. One time she watched a new episode of your favorite show without you and felt so bad about it… and about faking her reactions while rewatching it with you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who doesn’t really care about skincare but always watches you do your routine. She just uses a cheap face wash and a plain moisturizer and somehow her skin is clear like glass. Whenever you ask her to let you do her skincare she’ll act like she doesn’t want it, but inside she’s literally giggling and kicking her feet.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who always looks at you walking around the apartment with heart shaped eyes. No matter if you just woke up and your hair is a mess or if you just got back from a party and are stumbling drunkenly into every corner. She thinks you’re effortlessly beautiful, end of story.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who is naturally messy, but not in a bad way? She just has a lot of clutter around, little trinkets and doohickeys she found god knows where.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who breaks at least one mug a week. She’s really clumsy and the fact that you’re all that she can think about doesn’t help.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who felt like a teenager that got caught smoking cigarettes when you found out she smokes weed. She was already high by the time you came back from work and almost got a panik attack. You had to babysit her until she got better.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who loves when you call your small shared apartment ‘home’. It just stirs something deep inside her and puts a grin on her face.

I’ll probably make a part 2 when I get more ideas:3

[starillusion13]

RENT IS DUE! (Teaser)

Pairing: housemates!(Jaehyun,Mark,Jeno,Jaemin) x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT, Housemates, Mature

W.C: (?)k (original plot)

Warnings: PERVERT (all of them are pervert and you can’t change my mind here) there is no important warning here but the original plot will have all necessary SMUT warnings and some manhandling(?) idk coz keep imagining things until the main post drops down.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

From the ask poll!

🫶

“Hi!”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Blinking your eyes, you pout a little at the man standing in front of you as to why the person is acting as if he does not know you. You have already checked the message in your phone twice and the third time now and it’s still showing this house. You have already texted the owner about your arrival for a quick look to the new place so the owner should know you would come. Wait you haven’t shared any pic of yours so it might be the reason of this weird introduction.

“Are you Jung Jaehyun, the owner of this house?”

Now the person before you has a frown on his face and blinking down at you. The bare face with red eyes and messy hairs with a white tee worn casually is still enough to reflect his handsomeness. You literally envy when people look good in messy stuffs as you look like you have survived a war.

“I’m not him but I’m one of the owners of this place. Myself Jaemin.”

“Owners? I didn’t know there’re others. Nice to meet you though, here this is Y/N.”

Awkwardly shaking hands with each other, he offers you to enter the house. This dude is really weird and he is still trying to understand the situation. His eyes never left your form after the introduction and the way he is checking you out, anyone can call him out as a pervert but what about you. Meanwhile your eyes roaming all around the big mansion and you are in awe with the luxurious interior of this grand place with expensive items decorating every corner and the most displayed area.

Hands fidgeting by your side and biting your lips, you turn around to find him already looking at you and you feel conscious of your look. Trying to smile a bit, you fail miserably because of his gaze which is piercing on your skin, your choice for wearing a skirt and a plain top is making you to regret now. This dude needs to be changed with his approach with people like why he has to stare at you like this.

“How do you know Jaehyun?”

You blink on his sudden question but clearing your throat, you try to form some words but it seems as if you don’t know how to speak yet.

He smirks at you, “what happened? Caught in a lie ?”

“Huh? No no. I…he is the owner with whom I had contacted few days back for a room to rent and he said that he has one vacant extra room in his house so for the advance payment and quick check through, I informed him about my arrival but it seems he forgot about it.”

“Renting the extra room? That even to a girl?”

You nod slowly.

Poking his tongue inside his cheeks, his eyes trail down your body and taking extra time on your exposed legs to which you shifted in your place and his eyes meet yours, straight away making an eye contact as if daring you to move again and see the consequences. A fear flashes through your eyes to which he gestures you to sit with a smile on his face.

Slow steps towards the sofa, you sit on the middle large one, no wait which do I need to sit on? The love seat one? Or the chair one? Ah. Forget about it.

Turning your head to his side, he is no more standing there but you see him walking away towards a passage way.

“Jaemin, can you call Jaehyun as I need to have a quick talk with him?”

Halting in his way, he looks back at you and nods his head but it doesn’t seem like as if he is agreeing with you but rather agreeing with something inside his mind.

“Who are you?”

Turning your head to the other side, you find a man with black tshirt and trousers staring down at you but not to so happy with your presence. His question is so cold just like his appearance but a guest is a guest. You are a stranger so why asking you like this as if he caught you stealing things in his house. His house? Who even is he?

“Myself y/n.”

“Oh pretty one! I didn’t want your name but thanks for giving me the name to this pretty face. So, what’s my dear Y/N doing here? Who brought you here during this bright daylight instead of night?”

“I’m not here for…on call of anybody. I’m here for the rental room.”

“You mean you are going to stay here? In this house?”

You nod your head with furrowed brows.

He asks again, “ Who let you even know about it? Are you sure that you are not at the wrong address? What’s the name of the owner who contacted you?”

“Jung Jaehyun. I have double checked it and it’s showing the same address where I am currently and Jaemin told me he is the other owner.”

Something click in his mind when his eyes go round and brows raise high as if he realized something very important. You haven’t yet noticed that you are standing on your legs while speaking to him and your hands gripping the skirt tightly, why are they so overreacting to have a girl over for the rental room? It should be you like panicking to see so many men in a single household without any trace of a female and you wonder if you have to live with them or they are just here for some reasons.

“Well hello there y/n! My name is Jeno, I’m another owner of this household and it’s really nice to have you here.”

Shaking hands with him, you feel shy because of his stare along with a sly smirk resting in the corner of his lips. He is not letting your hands go even when you try to pull a little.

You ask him, “Another owner? How many of are you here?”

“Four.”

You turn around on hearing a new voice, a man emerges from the passage way where Jaemin went to earlier. He notices your confused expression and approaches you with a hand hand offering for a handshake. Jeno has already left your hand and gone to sit on a chair nearby.

“So, Jaemin told me about your arrival. Y/n right? This is Jaehyun.”

If the previous men are angels from heaven then this one is the angel who has been created by every angel with a little touch of every beauty. Why all of them are so handsome and hot? I should take control of my mind as what stupid things I’m just thinking about my house owners.

“Yes. I am. Nice to meet you.”

His dimples deepen with the smile and nodding his head, he gestures you to sit back and unconsciously your legs give in and you touch the soft material of the sofa. You are really feeling too weak in front of them. Is it because you are unwell or something about their aura and the stares?

He takes a seat on the love seat and checks something on his phone.

“Is this ‘fantasy love’ your username?”

“Oh yeah. I’m so sorry I haven’t yet changed the name and I just like to keep everything private so I don’t use my real name there. But I can assure you that I’m clean, I don’t have any criminal records and all. Also, I will not cause any trouble while staying here. I need somewhere to stay so urgently that I was glad when you offered me this place on the site.”

He chuckles on your ramblings and also you can hear two chuckling voices from the place where Jeno is sitting. You feel shy under their gazes, you notice how Jaehyun is staring at you as if judging your whole appearance and on the other end, Jeno is being accompanied by Jaemin, who is standing by the side with a spoon in his hand and asking the other one to taste something but their eyes are on you when they caught you watching them.

Your attention brought back to Jaehyun when he clears his throat and lips close rightly making a line, dimples visible again.

“But you have already lied on one thing.”

“What? I haven’t lied anything. You must be wrong somewhere.”

“In the online generated space for some specific basic informations, you have selected the gender as male. But all I can see is a beautiful Angel sitting in front of me.”

Your eyes go wide on hearing his words so you quickly open the site and go through the form of basic informations and then your eyes stop on one place.

Gender: Male(���️). Female ( ). Not mention( ).

Oh. You and your clumsy ass would never learn how to take things slowly and properly to avoid mistakes but this one is really about your identity of being a liar or not. He must be thinking you as a liar. It really doesn’t matter whatever pronouns people use for you and you need to refer to others but making mistake and have to get blame as a liar is not setting right.

“What the hell….”

“So, why did you lie there?”

“Jaehyun, I didn’t lie there. It’s just that I was must be in hurry and selected wrong.”

You are looking down, feeling guilty on the realization that they must have thought on getting a male visitor today but instead you showed up and that’s why they felt weird earlier. You were ready to apologize and take your leave with the disappointment on your mistake when he spoke up.

“When are you ready to finally come over?”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay. Humans are meant to make mistakes and an angel should be forgiven as they are always so busy for looking pretty.”

You feel shy on the compliment with his seductive voice directly reaching your ears. You tug your hairs a bit and you can feel two other states on you this whole time but you opt to ignore it.

“Do I need to-“

“Gosh! Why nobody woke me up and now I’m running late for the meeting?”

A man with jet black hairs, dressed in a black suit, hands busy putting the watch on the wrist and eyes glaring all around the room. His steps fast while coming down the stairs. You didn’t know but you are again watching this man like you did with the others and when his eyes land on you, a frown appears on his face.

“So you all are busy with a girl that even early in the morning and forgetting about the event at the office. Are you all for real?”

“Calm down Mark, I have told them to start the meeting after one hour as how you came home late last night. Don’t worry.”

He even glared at you before making his way out of the door. Jaemin shouts to have the breakfast but the other ignored the shout leaving behind a grumbling man.

“So what were you saying?”

Oh yeah I was saying something before this little commotion.

“ In two days, I will be coming here to stay with my things and also, do I need to pay you in advance?”

“That’s fine. I will prepare the room for you. So you have the money?”

You shake your head to which he nods.

“It’s okay, you can arrange for it in one week time and if you have any trouble, feel free to approach to any one of us.”

You smile to his welcoming gestures and sweet words. You fell satisfied on finally getting the place to stay.

“Uh I have one more question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you all stay here as well?”

“Yes. Why?”

Oh. Okay.

“I need to stay here with you all?”

“Yeah. It’s just under the same roof but you have your personal room unless you want to stay in any one of ours.”

He laughs in the end and you laugh along with him. He doesn’t mean anything else right? No no it’s not.

You stand up and he follows you to the door and you can see Jeno trailing behind him.

“It was nice to meet you all.”

“Same here. Also don’t mind Mark, he is like that when something is not in accord otherwise he is really sweet.”

You nod with a smile.

Jeno speaks up, “Also he is the fourth owner and the last owner you are yet to meet properly.”

With waving them and making your way towards the gate in the end of the garden, Jaehyun calls you again. Turning back, your eyes tell him to say.

“Remember, your rent is due.”

Rent is due.

OUT NOW….

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @eriny123 @jaehunnyy

(Open! Send ask/reply/dm) [CLOSED]

[sunlitmcgee]

Okay so. Before I have to pass out and go to bed because work tomorrow. Rapid fire, very surface level, rambly and nonsense messy thoughts on the Lords in Blacks' humanoid forms.

Wiggly looks like a prom king! He rules on high in The Black and White, so it makes sense that even in such a "childish" form he makes it clear he's the leader. He's wearing a visual that the 3 kids will see as someone in a place of authority over them, yes, but he's specifically someone within their social "class" as it were: aka a fellow student. He demands their authority and respect, but oh, they're all fwendy-wends here, so they don't need to be so formal!

(also he has a lil' plushie mini-him for a backpack and it's making me Insane <3)

Nibbly, meanwhile, is a lil' pinkie girlypop. I don't know a lot of his lore or personality other than he hungry and has a connection to pigs, but just visually speaking, that basic info is conveyed very well through this outfit. The visor hat covers his eyes so you focus on his mouth, which is always all smile, all teeth, gums pulled back so you train on it as his most defining feature. If I had to guess the Lords' ages off of this scene along I would probably assume Nibbly is the youngest one, given how cutsie this outfit is tbh. Very "child who just got dressed up for sunday church by their parents" core but maybe I'm just rambling :")

Blinky is a grundy Daphene from Scooby Doo <3 he has such a tiny little voice and such a big baggy hoodie that has the hood pulled up so his whole face becomes an eye. I love the soft fur to represent his plushie's belly and the long hair. The glasses are also very fun. I wouldn't be too shocked if the hoodie and glasses are merch you find at Watcher world <3

As always, Tinky is a little fucked up little scraggly little fucko. He looks like a Danganronpa reject and I love it very much! I can't really say how much I feel this outfit matches his character, because well. Tinky's already Weird even among the lords, what with his Smelly Goatman Time Fuckery thing that makes it hard to link him to a singular theme. But he just looks so Wild and Unkempt that I can't like? see any reason the design DOESN'T fit him. if that makes sense?

Apparently Pokey is the guy that did the hivemind in Guy who didn't like musicals! With that knowledge, damn of course his ass looks like he waddled out of a ren fair's costume district! His mask, his hat, his face paint. Yep! that's a guy who made freaky hivemind space goop that makes people sing alrighty!!

anyway ^_^ i love these fucked up little guys

[byunpum]

Little Gifts

Pairing: Tsu'tey x human reader

Tags: fluff, Tsutey being a little grumpy, crushes, a little angst.

Warning: None, we need more tsu'tey works.

AVATAR MASTERLIST Part 1 | Part 2

Here you are, holding out your arms with a slice of vanilla cake in your hands. You had that goofy smile that he hated so much, because it made him feel feelings he shouldn't have for you. He looked you over from head to toe, he could see you had a white spot on your face, your hair was a little messy. But you looked so happy to find him.

"You are dirty and disheveled" says Tsutey, his face is serious. He didn't know how he had gotten so close to you, or how you had gotten so close to him. After the great battle, he was badly wounded, but he knew that all his pain was worth it, most of the people in the sky were returned to their home planet. He was surprised when he found out that many humans who supported Pandora decided to stay on the planet. He knew this had to do with the new clan leader, toruk makto jake sully. But he was still grateful to be alive. And that's when he met you, you had become friends with mo'at very quickly. The woman had seen beyond your appearance, and saw the plans eywa had for you.

So she allowed you to help her with the injured. You were not very trusted by the navi, but you managed to get them to accept your help. Tsutey was lying down, badly wounded. But he had the pride of a warrior, so he had to be strong. You came up to him, with a smile from side to side. He didn't want to talk to you much, but he let you help him. And before you left, you gave him a piece of candy.

"Here" you offer him a candy. Tsutey stayed frozen, maybe you were trying to poison him or something. "Look" you open the candy and put it in your mouth and start eating it. As you pull another one out of your jacket pocket. "Here…to sweeten your life" you says as you take his hand and hand him the candy. He stands there, hand extended and looking at the candy. At night while no one was looking, he was tempted to try that rare food, and to his bad luck…he liked it.

From that moment on, you delivered small desserts to him from time to time. The humans had a small base near the village. So I used to meet you often, you used to go for a walk in the evenings, You liked to watch the pandora's wildlife, pet the passive animals and talk to the navi children. You would go and talk to mo'at about the herbs and medicines she used. Then you would find him and hand him a treat. He already knew your whole routine, he had studied you for many weeks. You were not troublesome, and you were a very quiet woman. He used to see you reading books in some corner, or looking for rocks for your 'rock friends collection'. He started to sit next to you and have long talks with you, he liked to talk to you. You had interesting topics, and you were fun.

"And that rock friends collection what is it?" he knew humans were weird, but this was too much. "Ahhhh I like to collect strange rocks, different colors and shapes. And then give them names. I don't know, it relaxes me" you say with a smile. He made a mental note, that if he found a rock he thought was strange he would give it to you.

For example, today in particular he was in a practice with some warriors, all of them were riding or feeding with their direhorse. He was distracted talking to one of his friends, until he signaled him to look back. As he turned around he saw you, you were approaching him, and you had something in your hands. He could see how his friends were approaching to watch the scene. No one knew that he had been building a friendship with a sky demon. And this was making him uncomfortable. You get close enough and raise your hands…offering him something that looked sticky, shiny and didn't smell bad. "Look…I made this for you" he could see how happy and excited you were to give him this gift.

"You are dirty and disheveled" says Tsutey, seeing how you were still smiling. "Well I've been preparing this cake all morning," you laugh a little nervously. Tsutey started to hear the comments and laughter of his colleagues and couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You noticed how his tail lowered, and his ears twitched, and how his face showed a look of concern and annoyance. You lowered your hands slowly, oh no, you had made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I… I'd better go" you say as you walk away. Tsutey watches you walk away, as he laughs a little with his friends.

He felt bad for having refused your gift. But he didn't know how to react. It wasn't long before practice was over. Everyone was saying goodbye, Tsutey went ahead and went to that weird hut you humans had. He saw that the lights were on and that there were people inside. He approached slowly, it was the first time he was close. He didn't have much confidence, but he had to apologize to you.

One of the men saw the navi approaching and came out of the hut. "Excuse me…I don't want to disturb, but could I speak with Y/N" speaks Tsutey, he knew the language but didn't know how to sound formal, you had teach him a few things, but it was complicated. He watched as the man came in and called you by name. He was a bit far from the hut. He waited, until he saw you come out of it, he assumed you were upset and all. But he was surprised when he saw you, you had a smile on your face and ran to where he was.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him. "I come because of that…. I want to apologize to you for not accepting your gift" Tsutey says with a very erect posture. He saw how you smiled a little, but it was a smile of sadness. "You don't have to apologize…I know you told me not to talk to you when you were with company. So I'm the one who has to apologize" you speak, Tsutey can see how nervous you were, you were playing with your hands. "No, …. well yes, I know I said that. But I didn't mean to…" he didn't know what to say, he knew he told you that, because he didn't want the navi to know he was talking to a human. You two stood there in silence for a while. "Do you…do you want the present?" you look up to see his face, Tsutey agrees with his head and you go running to get the cake.

You get there as fast as you can and hand to him the cake, it was wrapped with a very pretty pink cloth, with strawberry designs. "That's a cake, it has flour, egg, sugar and other things. It is edible and sweet. I made it vanilla, so it wouldn't be weird for your taste " Tsutey watched as you explained everything to her, he could see how excited you were to have delivered your gift. Tsutey lifted the piece of cake and brought it up to his nose. Wow, this smelled wonderful. "Did you prepare it for me?" he asked. "Yes!!!" you laughed stupidly. "Thank you" Tsutey gives you a big smile.You had to admit, he had a charming smile. "Well… it's already that afternoon, try it and then tell me what you thought" you tell him as you say goodbye to him and walk towards the hut. He stood there for a while, until he decided to walk to his hut, when he got there he sat down and opened the cake wrapper and tasted it.

"This is delicious" he thought to himself, before he knew it, he had already eaten it all. He began to feel bad, you had prepared this for him, you were trying to feed him, you had been bringing him gifts for months… and he had rejected your offering. He didn't have to accept it if he wasn't interested, but he was very very interested. He had to find a way to reward you. If he didn't, he felt that eywa would not forgive him.

[tiredfox64]

I absolutely LOVE your “You Have Freedom” fic!! We need more Havik appreciation—

Can you write about Havik w an S/O that changes her hair almost every other week?? Kinda like Ramona Flowers from Scott Pilgrim.

You’re that bestest ever💖🔊‼️

Chaos Chameleon

Yip notes: Ugh I need to redye my raccoon tails again. I think I need to buy a better dye cause the black part is the only lasting color 😭

Pairing: Havik x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Don’t clutch your pearls due to dyed hair it’s 2024

It’s a mystery how you could afford so much hair dye and take good care of it to keep the color popping.

You are not the kind of girl who picks natural hair colors like black, brown, blonde, or ginger. No, you go for the colors that shock old people and make children want to be you. From the bright neon colors that are fit for a rave to the soft pastel colors that would have been perfect for a Tumblr post when pastel goth was popular. Why stick to one hair color when the universe has an abundance of colors for you to try out? It’s never too late to have fun with the body you were blessed with.

As much as you loved dying your hair and seeing how the color popped off in the sun, there was someone else who loved the sight of it as well. That someone would be Havik.

He knew you had a bit of a chaotic side when he first saw you with your hair split into two colors. You looked like sweet cotton candy with one side of your hair being a blush pink and the other side being a baby blue. Add in the fact that you had black strips in the front part of your hair to make raccoon tails, you caught his attention quickly. He was already showing you off to Darrius before he introduced himself to you.

“Darrius, have you ever seen an Earthrealmer this exotic? I had no clue they could be so colorful.”

“Well, if you like her so much why don’t you go introduce yourself?” Darrius said in a somewhat annoyed tone, finding Havik’s fascination with some hair to be a weird distraction.

However, Havik took his words seriously and jumped at the opportunity. You could kinda thank Darrius for meeting your boyfriend. If it weren’t for his sarcasm you wouldn’t have seen a large man with a mangled face and strange clothes running towards you. Sure, it was horrific at first but once he complimented your hair you realized he wasn’t all that bad.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Gosh, Havik didn’t know there were so many different colors. And yet you manage to own a lot of them in bottles and containers.

He got used to the smell of hair dye and how it differed between colors and brands. There were a lot of Arctic Fox bottles scattered around while there were containers of Manic Panic stacked on shelves. All of them were opened and used at least once. They had to be considering you dye your hair often. You dye it almost every other week.

It was a shock to Havik. One week it’s like cotton candy on your head and the next week it’s lemons and limes. When he asked you why you changed it so quickly you replied,

“I’ve had it for two weeks, it’s time for a change.”

Sometimes it’s just one color, sometimes it’s split, multicolor, two-tone, ombre, the list never ends. He likes it when you hide one color under another, it’s like a surprise. One moment he thinks it’s just a silvery white but the second he runs his fingers through it, BAM, a plum purple color right under it. Get ready for your hair to get messy and possibly knotted because he will not stop playing with it.

You always clarify the specific color name too. Cause it could never be just blue. It’s always something specific when all he can identify is that it’s blue and sometimes it’s dark. He can sometimes identify aquamarine he just needs to think about the ocean.

If only you told Havik every time you dyed your hair. He’s irresponsible with time, he doesn’t realize when weeks have passed by unless he is waiting for something to happen. The second time you dyed your hair he had no idea it was you at first. That lemon and lime hair now turned into a fiery red that could only be compared to a ripe watermelon. When you went up to hug him he pushed you off of him.

“Get your hands off of me, woman!” He yelled.

“It’s me you idiot!” You yelled back.

“What!”

He stared at you for a few seconds, blinking rapidly before realizing it was you. No strange woman was trying to force themselves upon him.

“Oh…it’s nice.” He tried to fix his wrongs by giving a compliment. The head pat doesn’t fix it either.

Nonetheless, he still loves what you do to your hair. It’s crazy, it’s colorful, it’s a burst of your personality. He’s never witnessed a girl like you. You are a rare, colorful gem who can match his chaotic energy. So…why doesn’t he dye his hair?

Eventually, you would suggest doing his hair. It is quite long so there is lots of potential there. You even have a dark red that would match well with his attire. If that man can wear bones as clothes, it’s safe to say he could allow some dye in his hair. So you pleaded and begged, whined and nagged. Then finally he said,

“Give me a good color. Don’t you dare make it neon or that ugly pastel mess.”

“Aww, but you would look so cute with light pink hair.” You teased.

“…I love you, but I won’t hesitate to rip my head off and crush it just to prevent you from putting that stupid color on me.”

“Oh, you’re such a drama king. Come on, I’m gonna make you my masterpiece.”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You were like a painter who couldn’t risk anything. Your masterpiece had to be perfect. One wrong move and you might have to switch up your idea.

IF ONLY HAVIK WOULD SIT STILL!

You didn’t do his whole head of hair like you usually did with yourself. Gotta take baby steps with this kind of stuff. You colored some strands of his hair with the front being special. You were going to do a raccoon tail since that was his favorite thing. He specifically pointed it out when you first met him. Plus, he has black hair so there is no need to use any dye for the black parts. Just use that dark red and go for it.

Havik never knew the process took so long. It would have been much longer if you decided to bleach the strands. That would have been a whole new struggle. You wanted to keep the color dark so it worked out. Still meant he had to sit still for a while and get sprayed with water to remove the excessive dye. Did you need to spray him directly in the face? No, but it was funny.

You were about to show Havik the end result but you hesitated.

“Wait,” you paused for a while, “I want to do the other side too.”

“Ugh! We have been at it all day!” Not really but it’s been two hours.

“I promise it will be worth it! I’m having fun with this, don’t kill my vibe!” You pushed him back in his chair before putting more dye in the bowl. Round two here we go.

Yeah, you wanted to dye the shaved side as well. You were gonna do a raccoon tail look for it. Havik had to sit there for another hour-long process, feeling your nails dig into his head to prevent him from moving and having the cold dye touch his scalp. Guess this shows how much Havik loves you. He’s willing to sit here and take it.

Time to splash him with water again. Don’t put the hair dryer on high you’re gonna remind him of when his face first melted off. BOOM! He is finished. You brought him over to your mirror so he could get a good look at himself. And…well…he loved it. It was different and unique. The raccoon tail was what caught his eye the most. He ran his fingers through his hair to see the red and black strands mixed together before separating. You knew he truly liked it once he picked you up and squeezed you tightly to his body. He nuzzled his face against yours to show his appreciation which you gladly accepted.

Just then Darrius walked in and immediately noticed something different about Havik. Havik was about to tell Darrius about what you did but he was interrupted by a question.

“Who is that woman? Where is your girlfriend?”

“THAT IS MY GIRLFRIEND! IT IS THE SAME GIRLFRIEND EVERY WEEK. I CAN NOT KEEP EXPLAINING TO YOU THAT SHE DYES HER HAIR!”

Darrius really needs to take his glasses off when he’s inside.

Yap notes: Can you tell which gear I like to put on him? I enjoyed doing this it helped my brain a little since the writer's block has been kicking my butt. Oh well, time to eat more Wing Stop. Adiós!

[itsmarsss]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU: Chapter 1 - Out [Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You have been writing these love letters since seventh grade, but what happens when they somehow get sent out?

Warnings: high school (lol i wrote this one when i was in high school but im rewriting it now that im like three years out of it so it feels weird and i feel like it warrants a warning, definitely senior year tho.), hardcore crushing on miguel, mentions of a crush on moon so if ya don’t like women too then idk, uhh mention of smoking weed.

Word Count: 4,060

Your letters were your most prized possessions: yours, and yours only.

You wrote one when you had a crush so intense you felt like you needed to snap out of it or otherwise you’d collapse.

So, you wrote letters to try to find closure. Intricately detailed letters that contained every single unfiltered thought and embarrassing feeling you could find in yourself. Everything you noticed about them, everything you wished you had with them, everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

It started a long while ago.

You never sent them, of course. That idea was completely off the table. They remained stored inside the little blue box with the white ribbon buried deep in the back of your closet, from where you would occasionally take them just to read them again and reminisce on the thoughts a younger version of you once had about all those different people.

They were all properly sealed, stamped and addressed in pretty cursive letters, but never, ever posted.

They were six in total, addressed to five different people.

The first one ever written had been for Eli, from seventh grade. Adorable little Eli, who was one of the biggest nerds you’d ever seen, always too shy to talk around others, but who would go on excitedly about a tv show or a comic book series he liked for hours around you after getting paired for a project got him to warm up to you.

Adorable little Eli, who trembled like crazy before kissing you in a dumb game of spin the bottle, right before running home crying because some girl thought it would be hilarious to comment on how she wouldn't have let him kiss her with "that mouth" if she were you. You, in turn, couldn't feel more different from that bullshit comment of hers after that messy seventh grade first kiss that lasted barely a couple seconds but fed your crush on him for months on end after.

That letter was followed by a new one, addressed also to him, but the new him this time around, many years later, in your sophomore year- to Hawk, not Eli. However that worked.

To Hawk, who had decided to “flip the script”, as he called it, by changing his entire aesthetic and his whole demeanor, showing up to school on a random day with a blue dyed mohawk and a brand new attitude. You liked it.

Confident Eli seemed happier even though he sometimes acted like a bit of an asshole and, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he looked really, really hot. He was still Eli, but this Eli wasn’t afraid to flirt with you, which evoked brand new feelings in you.

Therefore, a new letter.

The second letter you ever wrote was addressed to Demetri, from eight grade, who you met around the same time as Eli.

Demetri, who would talk to you about superheroes and binary language and would be so excited about it that you didn’t care to tell him you couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

Demetri, who was so kind as to go to your house to help you with your part on the biology project you were partnered with him in because he knew it was stressing you out, who would offer to tutor you when you told him you were having a hard time with a subject he was good at at school, and who you got closer to when randomly put in many classes together.

The third letter you ever wrote was addressed to Robby Keene, who you became closer to after ditching the homecoming dance in your freshman year to hang out by yourself at the bleachers, despite Sam and Aisha’s protests, only to find out it apparently was Robby Keene’s favorite smoking spot.

Apparently high school dances could be pretty lame, no matter what all high school movies from the 80's had been telling you all your life. You had asked if you were interrupting something when you noticed his presence and he told you it depended on whether you'd be snitching on him or not, and suddenly freshman homecoming didn't suck all that much anymore, because you managed to make friends with the most unlikely acquaintance you could ever have.

Robby, who at fourteen years old got detention for threatening to beat up the kids who made you cry because they kept making fun of you during a presentation, which was about substance abuse, ironically.

The fourth one had been written to Moon, who you used to despise because she used to hang out with Yasmine- who, for the longest time, had loved to pick on you and your friends- especially Eli and Demetri.

But Moon, who turned out to be so sweet after she started doing and saying things for herself as opposed to whatever her friends wanted her to and started hanging out with your friend group.

Moon, who would excitedly invite you to sleep overs and braid your hair as you gossiped about people you barely knew from school, who would do your makeup for you and take you shopping and call you pet names platonically, making you blush furiously and putting you in the verge of short-circuiting by being so casually affectionate now that you’d become friends.

And, lastly, the most recent one had been written to Miguel Diaz, of course.

Miguel, who was your best friend in the whole entire world, ever since he moved to Reseda and you first befriended him at school.

Miguel, who was currently dating Sam, who you’d drifted apart from, but couldn’t for the life of you hold a grudge against.

Yeah, Miguel.

But before he became Sam’s boyfriend, he was your boyfriend. Well… boy-friend. A boy who was a friend. And things were good as they were.

But then things started changing.

Things started changing when Miguel asked Sam out and you realized you didn’t like that. When the first thing he did when he got home was to tell you all about it, and you felt a pit in your stomach as he went on about how well things had gone.

Until you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore and had to face the reality that the reason it all made you feel so awful was that you were jealous.

It was even worse to figure out why: as much as you could try to lie to yourself and pretend you were just jealous that she was spending time with your best friend, you knew you had to face it: it all came down to the simple fact that you were in love with him.

You didn’t know when it happened, or what was the turning point for that, but you were. Utterly and irredeemably.

And, in hindsight, it seemed obvious.

But then they started dating, and they didn’t want you to feel left out, so they would you and Aisha everywhere, which made things so much worse.

And then they broke up, and things got, somehow, even weirder. Now it was all you and Miguel again, and, even after all of that, you still had those stupid feelings for him. But you weren’t a complete bitch, or insensitive. You’d never make a move, you’d just have to live with it.

Which didn’t mean there was nothing you could do about it: you decided to try to put an end to it, your own way.

Hence, how letter number six came to be. Signed, addressed, stamped, sealed and stored in the blue box under all the others.

Maybe after this you’d be able to move on. Maybe after this things would go back to normal. How you craved for things to go back to how they used to be.

It seemed reasonable enough to just wait on your feelings to die out.

But a certain day came when then Eli- well, Eli, who was Hawk now, marched up to you in the middle of your gym class.

“Y/n?” He called your name, and you stopped running your laps, turning around to face him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. What was Hawk doing in your gym class?

You let him approach you. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, I appreciate it but it’s… not gonna happen. Like, you know we’re friends, and you know I'm still like… hung up on Moon, or whatever. Right? I know the power of the Hawk’s pretty irresistible,” he smirked, quickly going back to his stern expression, “but you should cut it out.”

You really had no idea what the hell he could be possibly talking about. “Dude… what?”

“C’mon you don’t have to play dumb, it’s cool that you think my scar makes me look cute or whatever but like. I uh. Don’t have any feelings for you now.” Wait, what did he say about the scar? He kept on. “And like it’s- it’s pretty cool that you liked me before and now too but this would just- this would be weird. You know that, right?”

You just weren't getting it.

And then you saw it: in his hand, signed, addressed and stamped, were two open envelopes with two different names written on them in your best cursive handwriting. Fuck.

“Hey- woah are you alright? You look like you're gonna pass out.”

You felt like you were going to pass out. You couldn’t even form a sentence in the midst of your shock.

And then, Miguel came into your line of sight. Because of course things had to get worse.

“There’s no fucking way,” you muttered, incredulous. He was walking up to you, a red envelope in hand.

The letters got out the letters got out the letters got out.

He looked confused. He obviously, and much understandably, wanted answers. Answers you’d much rather get hot by a bus than giving him.

This could not be your fucking life.

“No, no, no, no, no, oh, my god,” you looked around frantically as he got closer, trying to figure out what to do. Hawk surely thought you were crazy now.

And then Miguel made eye contact with you and he had that fucking look of pity on his face and you panicked. And so you did the first thing that came to your short-circuiting mind, which was possibly the dumbest thing you could have thought to do: apparently all you managed to think of was jumping Hawk, tackling him to the ground and kissing him in the middle of gym for Miguel to see.

How maturer and over him you were! Incredible!

The kiss was over as soon as it happened, and you pulled away as Hawk stared at you with two wide eyes and shock all over his face.

You could sympathize with the guy- getting this as a reaction to your rejection was probably really confusing.

More important things going on, though. You got a glance of Miguel stopping in his tracks at your little theatrics, making you realize it definitely didn’t do anything other than make things more awkward for you.

“Uh. Thanks. Sorry or… whatever. I’ll see you in bio!” You told Hawk, patting his chest before standing up and booking away from him, running past Miguel way too quickly for him to be able to approach you and ignoring his call of your name, and locking yourself in one of the stalls of the closest bathroom you were able to find, trying every single breathing exercise you’ve ever come across to calm yourself down.

This was it. Miguel hated you, surely.

No, worse: he pitied you. Because obviously he didn't feel the same and obviously receiving a love letter so embarrassingly honest from his closest friend was weird. Now your friendship was going to be weird, and it was all you fau-

“Y/n? Are you in there?”

No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening, there was no way.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Goddamn Robby Keene.

“Oh my god,” you muttered to yourself. Maybe willing him away in your mind would alter reality so he wasn’t there in the bathroom with you.

If only it were that easy.

Resting your head in your hands as you tried to convince yourself this was some sort of nightmare, you heard a noise come from really close to you and opened your eyesto the pink envelope being slid under the stall to you.

“I thought you’d want it back. Seemed pretty personal.”

“Robby, holy shit, I’m so sorry. You do know I wrote this like years ago, right?” He had to have figured that out, didn’t he? You weren’t even close anymore.

“Yeah! Like freshman year right? When we smoked together while everyone was at the dance.” He didn't seem to be mocking you, didn't seem to be angry. Just pointing it out. You sighed and opened the stall door, deciding facing Robby wouldn't be as bad as facing Miguel. You walked out.

“Yeah it was- it was pretty cool. Better than whatever was going down in the dance.”

“Yeah, I taught you how to smoke that day!” He smiled. “Thinking back on it makes me think you shouldn’t have been hanging out with me back then, actually,” he points out.

You could only let out a small laugh. “I guess not.”

“Look, I don’t know why you decided to send this but uh. I feel like I should tell you that Sam and I are like. Together.”

They were? “Oh. Right! Duh. Obviously. I knew that.” You most definitely did not know that. “I don’t know how this got out, really. I never meant for you to actually see this.”

“Look, we can still be friends. You’re pretty cool. Even with… you know…” he motioned vaguely, “the whole Cobra Kai thing”

“Okay! Yeah, definitely.” He was only being polite, because that’s how he is. But this was much better than having him think you were trying to get with him. You let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.”

Jesus fuck.

[. . .]

You looked everywhere. Everywhere. The stupid fucking blue box just wasn't anywhere. You tried asking your mom about it, but her answer was short and simple: It probably went with the Goodwill box you’d made last week.

How, you couldn’t figure out, but it seemed to be the only slightly plausible possibility.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. That meant there were five people out there total, five people you still saw every single day, who you were friends with, who had received a fucking love letter with your name signed all pretty on it.

This was hell, it had to be.

You were sure of it when you heard a knock on your front door, accompanied by Miguel’s voice calling your name.

Shit, shit, shit, you were not ready to have this conversation. Why did he have to be your next door neighbor on top of everything? It had always been convenient to live so close to each other, but right now it seemed everything but.

So you did what any sane, responsible person would do: you got out by the kitchen window. Naturally.

Miguel would think you just weren't home.

Again, very mature and totally normal and over it of you.

You decided someone would probably be at the dojo and the last thing you wanted right now was to accidentally encounter someone else who had a letter by surprise. You figured it was too early for someone to be at the diner nearby, so there you went.

You ordered yourself a milkshake and tried to reason with yourself. You couldn't avoid Miguel forever. He’s obviously find a way to talk to you at some point. And then what would you do? Admit you were in love with him even though to him you were just best friends? Let him tell Sam you were in love with her (well, at-the-time) boyfriend? Get politely rejected by him and go around pretending being pitied by him for not being corresponded wasn’t pathetic? It all seemed to come down to terrible endings.

You were so lost in thought you didn't notice him sit beside you at the counter until he spoke up, ordering some fries.

Oh, shit.

Hawk.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, annoyed.

“Went by your place. Miguel said you weren't there. Things felt preetty awkward I’ll be honest with you. But you weren't at the dojo either so I thought I’d find you here.”

“Okay. And why did you wanna find me, exactly?”

“Look I just wanna make it double clear that nothing’s gonna happen between us. Nada.”

“Eli Moskowitz I am not trying to date you.”

He seemed to cringe at his own given name, but didn’t complain out loud about it. “Then why would you write me a love letter?”

“It was in 7th grade!”

“No, you talk about me as Hawk though.”

“Last year! Right when you did… that,” you motioned vaguely to his mohawk.

“Okay I hear you but like. Your mouth is saying one thing… but then your mouth said… something… else. To my mouth. Directly.”

“What? Ew!”

“You jumped me!”

“I was panicking! And I’m like, actually sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

You let out a sigh, defeated. “Miguel was walking over.”

“And?”

“And he also got one of those,” you motioned with your head at the letter in Hawk’s hand, “and I cannot deal with that right now.”

His expression shifted. “Wait, I’m not the only one who got a letter?”

“No.”

“Huh. You really think you’re special.”

“Are you not, like, surprised about Miguel?”

“Oh, no, it was pretty obvious. But damn you get a love letter and think you’re the man but then you find out she wrote to another guy too?”

“Oh there’s six of them, so don’t go feeling too special.”

“Six of them?”

You then realize you’d spoken too much. He doesn’t need to know all of this. “Nevermind.”

“Damn y/n, fuck yeah, you're a player! Who were they for?”

“No one! It’s none of your business.”

“Come on, I deserve to know! You did kinda jump me in front of a bunch of people.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“I mean I wouldn't- I wouldn't want people to find out you think my scar looks hot. Or that when you look at me you think about ‘kissing the annoying smirk off my lips’- I mean who knows what guarantees you don’t have a tattoo of my face on your ass-”

That was embarrassing enough. “Okay shut up! Shut up. Fine, if you wanna know so bad. So two for you. Then uh. Demetri, in-”

“You had a crush on Demetri?”

You kept on. “Then Robby Keene, on freshman year.”

“What, do you have a thing for LaRusso’s boyfriends or…?”

“How did you know they were together? I didn’t know!”

He just shrugged, and you continued. “And then there was uh-” you glanced at him and back to your milkshake. “Moon, after she uh. Started dating you, and hanging out with us.”

He let out a snort. “Right.”

“Sorry. I uh- I know she broke up with you-”

“What, are you gonna make a move on her? Is this what you have a thing for, crushing on your friends’ partners?”

“No. And you asked me about it!”

He looked sorry. He didn’t say it. He sighed. “Fine. Is that everyone?”

“With Miguel, yeah, that’s everyone.”

“Okay. I was the only one to get two letters though.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Of course he’d make this be about feeding his ego. The two of you finished your food in an awkward silence before he spoke up again. “Did you walk here?”

“Yeah.”

“You want a ride?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” After paying, you walked outside, getting on his motorbike. He surrendered his only helmet to you.

Holding onto his waist the whole time after all this was definitely weird but you didn’t let yourself think about it too much, instead thinking about a bigger issue: you really, really hoped Miguel wouldn’t be there when you got home. You got to the parking lot, getting off the bike, taking off the blue helmet and handing it back to him. “How do you even put this on with your hair?” You questioned.

He laughed. “I just like. Push it back.”

“But how does it not ruin it?”

He shrugged. “Power of the Hawk.” He smirked, full of himself.

“Oh, come on. I bet you walk around with a little bottle of hair gel so you can fix it when you take it off.”

“Magician never reveals his secrets-” he looked off at something behind you that caught his attention. You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion, turning around to see what it was.

Miguel. He hadn't noticed your presence yet, but there was no way he wasn’t going to.

What do you do now? You felt paralyzed.

Hawk seemed to think of something before you could. He placed his helmet on the handle of the bike, very obviously making sure to make noise with it to attract attention, and leaned in, pulling you into a kiss. A… rather passionate one.

He pulled away, wordlessly leading you in the direction of your front door. You got the hint, walking to your place without turning around, and unlocking the door. He pushed you in and closed the door behind him with his foot, loudly. You stayed like that, with him leaning on the door and your bodies flushed together, in silence, trying to listen if Miguel was walking towards your door or not. After a couple seconds, you figured he was not, and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry,” he looked at the floor, sheepish. An usual sight for the new him. “First thing that came to mind.”

“Why is jumping each other the first thing that we think of when we panic?” You laughed.

Hawk laughed along, more at ease knowing you weren’t mad at him. “You did it first.”

You sat down on your couch, but he stayed standing. “Sorry to pull you into this. And thank you for helping out just now. Think I’ll just pity myself ‘till I sleep and then die of embarrassment tomorrow when I see him or something. You can go if you want.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll- yeah.” He started walking to the door, but stopped midway, turning around to face you again. “Hey what if-” he tried to find the words to explain his idea- “um- he probably thinks we’re dating right? Or at least hooking up, or something. I mean, after all the kissing… and stuff.”

“Shit. Yeah. I’ll clear things up, sorry-”

“No! What if- what if we let him?”

“What… do you mean?”

“What if we let him think we’re dating? And not just him. Everyone else too.”

“Why would we do that?”

“So he won’t think you're in love with him!”

“I’ll rephrase it then. Why would you do that?”

“I mean you know- you know I’m still really into Moon. Maybe we could make her… want what she can’t get?”

“You think that would work? On Moon?”

He just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So you’re suggesting we fake-date.”

“I guess.”

“Have you never seen a movie with a fake dating trope? Doesn't end well.”

“What, you think you’ll catch feelings?” He opened his signature grin, and you sighed, annoyed.

“I’m just saying it’s probably gonna blow up on our face eventually.”

“Why? We can just pretend to date for like a couple weeks. And then we break up or whatever.”

“I’m not-” This could not be a good idea. Could it? “Look I’ll- I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

[. . .]

Miguel, Miguel, Miguel. Miguel seemed to be what occupied your thoughts the most. No matter how absurd the amount of drama you were going through was, your thoughts always came back to him.

But the night after the letters got out… it wasn't like that. Eli Moskowitz- well, Hawk, hadn’t been in your head all that much ever since you got over the last crush you had on him a couple years ago. But now Miguel wasn't the only thing in your head anymore, weird of a way as everything else had come into your thoughts.

So you decided.

A/N: in all honesty im only rewriting this because im in a bit of a slum and i almost deleted this off of my ao3 bc of how terribly written the original chapters are lol so idk here’s something someone might like i guess. I won’t be in any rush to post the chapters of this whatsoever, scandalous is 100% my priority this is just for some piece of mind bc I know I’m better than the shitty writing in the original version of this lol

[gldrushsblog]

SUGAR AND SIN | JK

🧁✧ ˚. TITLE: Sugar and Sin.

🧁✧ ˚. PAIRING: Mafia boss! Jungkook x female oc

🧁✧ ˚. BLURB: Aurora Beckett had simple plans for the night: clean up the counter, finish boxing up the last batch of strawberry cupcakes, and maybe catch up on her favorite drama. Until the click of a gun spoiled the tiles of her bakery and her plans.

🧁✧ ˚. GENRE: Mafia au, grumpy x sunshine, forced proximity, slow burn, dark romance, crime/thriller.

🧁✧ ˚. WARNINGS: This chapter contains a violent scene involving murder, as well as mentions of nausea and a character passing out.

🧁✧ ˚. TAGS: oc is traumatized and on the verge of throwing up but she's also a little weird, jk is having fun cosplaying as a satanic entity for the night

🧁✧ ˚. A/N: This chapter's a lot shorter than the average word count I write but I hope it's intriguing enough for people to keep reading. Also please don't hesitate to type out your comments and opinions. I love to read them and stay informed with what clicks for you and for doesn't.

🧁✧ ˚. TAG LIST: @scuzmunkie ... (Please do let me know if any of you want to be added too.)

CHAPTER 1: AURORA

Aurora had two problems tonight.

Her frayed nerves that showed no sign of settling down any time soon, and the blood on the once-pristine white tiles of her bakery floor, which were sometimes grazed with flour and all that.

The latter and former both caused by a group of tall and dark figures of men that barged inside the dim lighted interior of her bakery that she was just about to pack up like they were out to hunt. From what she could see from the corner of the counter she was hiding behind and trying to squeeze herself further away into the darkness, the prey in question was another stumbling man who fell his way before them, backing on his palms as he slid on the floor, a messy trail of blood following right after him as the group of men loomed forward with a errie calmness. She visibly winced at that before taking advantage of the soft darkness and lifting her gaze up and instantly retreating back.

Gods, she had never regretted turning down Lia's offer to drop her home more than she did now. But no, she wanted to finish baking one last batch, just to get ahead for tomorrow.

Now she was hiding from men who looked like they made up the gateway of hell.

 

Clad up in all black with their forms blended into the shadows, save for the luminosity of moon light spilling through the window. They could’ve been anyone, anyone except the customers who regularly graced her small bakery. Definitely not the kind who ordered pastries.

She should have been afraid for her life. She was, in part. But another part of her was horrified at the blood—so much blood—coating the clean floor where she spent her days baking treats. A morbid thought crossed her mind: it was going to take forever to scrub that out.

She tried to shake off the absurdity of the thought and focused on the bigger issue that screamed that she was going to be the next one on their hit list. She doubted her capability to hide here, to hide her frantic heartbeat from all of them because it was all she could hear, until that changed too like her mundane nights.

"Done running?" A deep gravelly voice echoed louder than her heartbeat in the small space that was her bakery, followed with clear thumps of footsteps against the floor. And that's when her eyes took in the sight of a man who was probably what waited you inside that gateway.

He was wearing black too, of course, but somehow he stood out, and when he walked further, the other men looked nothing but mere shadows surrounding this larger unexplainable force.

"It was getting really fun." He drawled as if murder was a game, and the man cowering on the floor was just another player who had lost. It took all her might not to dig a hole somewhere here and hide further. It seemed to have the same effect on the cowering and trembling man on the floor as well that whimpered pleads for mercy which were unheard by lucifer himself and her as well because the sound of conflict in her head was louder.

She felt guilty and all kinds of words related to it because she was a present presence here, watching a man on the verge of getting killed in her property, doing nothing. She tried to fumble for her phone in the pocket of her apron as quietly as she could, but to her unfortune, it was on the far end of the countertop - a distance that felt like a mile now. She didn’t dare move, and the moral lecture she had rehearsed in her head earlier evaporated when she heard the sound of a gun clicking as well as her will scattering.

Her wide eyes that were going anywhere but the scene unfolding in front of her stopped at two inky voids like black ink splashed across a page, who found her before she could and was staring straight at her, penetrating through her very being as he too was crouching down on the floor, making a surge of panic run through her as the idea of her being seen settled in.

He saw her.

Her heart stopped.

Yet when she saw him stay blank and unamused as ever, even when he caught on an unexpected presence, she chose to second thought her plan to scream and run. Or she was forced to do so because his eyes had her frozen and stiff, unable to breathe.

Her heartbeat even came to a pause if that was possible, and then before she knew it was resuming that violent pace when she saw his lips moving. 

"Close your eyes."

Despite the pounding in her heart, she caught the words.

Yet she didn't obey, and that was the second time she felt regret flooding in the night when a quick click of the bullet leaving his cocked gun echoed around. The relief she felt for one moment when she wasn't on the receiving end of his chilling gaze washed away the moment the prey of a guy's brain spilled on the floor.

Blood. Blood. Blood. That was all in her line of sight as the man collapsed dead on the floor. Blood. Pooling around him. Blood. Everywhere. 

Aurora felt her throat work, her stomach twisted, a nauseous feeling overtaking her before she gathered whatever self preservation was left in her and forced her palm tightly against her mouth to not let out the sound of horror that was bubbling. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But all she could do was press her back harder against the counter, eyes glued to the body now lying lifeless on the bakery floor.

Her eyes, unblinking, slid up to the man who had penetrated the life out of a once alive being. The man stood over the corpse, expression unreadable. The gun hung loosely in his gloved hand, as though the life he had just taken was of no consequence to him. As if this was routine.

It didn't suprise her but horrified her further.

Would she be the next on the floor with life draining out of her as well as her blood, begging for his non existing mercy?

Her answer was his eyes stopping at her quivering and crouched figure again from the corner.  Her vision had blurred over the time he was turned toward her after barking orders at his men—orders she couldn’t hear over the deafening roar of her heartbeat. She barely registered the sound of footsteps until they were close—too close.

And then, darkness.

With a last prayer to gods above, her body shut out with the last thing she saw before her eyes blacked out, being the devil coming for her.

To be continued...

[jeongin-lvr]

sorry it's a little too messy

boys having a movie night with their partners (gonna go with f reader to make it easier to write)

not all of them are in a relationship but those are, decided to come as couples

when the guys talk, they share a little about their intimate moments, but hyunjin can't relate

he's attracted to his gf, and he knows she is too. they've had their steamy makeout sessions as proof but it never went past that. maybe dating a virgin wasn't as cute as he thought it'd be

the movie they're watching has some interesting scenes, hyunjin notices the couples whispering to each other, movements under their shared blankets, a few leaving to find privacy

but so does his girlfriend

hyunjin never insisted on it because he didn't wanna make things weird. he wanted her first time to be special, that's why she's waited this long

a few days passed and one day the partners decided to make lunch for the boys, knowing they'll most probably skip it with how busy they were

that day, seeing hyunjin during practice, focused, breathing hard, elegantly moving, she decided it's time

hyunjin didn't think much of it when she left early, knowing the number of people in the room would exhaust her

when they were back at the dorms, he took a shower and decided he'd visit her. he had the keys but always preferred to knock so she'd open the door. it was just a little thing he loved to.

what he didn't expect was seeing her in a cute pink silk night dress, the hem being a white lace.

she looked innocent and delicious

perfect to ruin, make his and only his, his little doll

I'll leave the rest to you ♡

I was imagining a lot of teasing and foreplay and whining but I never got to write this as a whole thing

Innocent virgin! Reader with a dirty minded maybe even slightly perverted! Hyunjin?? That’s my cup of tea right there….

Hyunjin adores you. He adores your cute smile, your cute dimples, your thighs. The way your lips move just the right way where he can picture them wrapped around his cock; how your tits squeeze together when you wear a low-cut top. When Hyunjin started dating you, he immediately thought you were the most adorable little bunny, cheeks that seemed to always be some shade of rosy, nose doused with a shimmer of highlighter, lips plump enough to kiss softly. But he also thought you were so perfectly innocent— innocent enough to corrupt and ruin.

Hyunjin, however, decided to be civil and patient on his plan to corrupt you once he found out you were a virgin. When you told him, he felt his heart swell and he tried (and failed) to hide the way his lip quirked up in a tiny smirk, dark hair covering it enough to leave you in mystery. And, of course, he cooed in understanding and patted your hair, squishing your little cheeks with understanding, “Princess, you’re fine. Don’t worry. We can wait. I’ll wait as long as you want.”

But when months pass and he finds himself hiding in the bathroom with a fist around his cock and you on his mind he bites his lip in regret. Wishing he’d pushed you a little— but wouldn’t that be mean?

Then it started happening more; boners so sore he was hiss. He’d get them even when he watched your hands, the way they wrapped around the things you’d hold, your water bottle, your own phone, his hand, even. Hyunjin would place a pillow on his lap, hair cascading down his cheekbones, blocking his deep red cheeks as you and his friends all laughed at the movie he’d picked out and hour before. Hyunjin noticed when your thighs were draped over his, when they shifted over his lap. When your cheek was against his chest and his nose was in your hair. Damn, you smelled amazing and it got him hard immediately.

Safe to say Hyunjin was fucking horny— and it was clearly your fault. It just seemed you were dreadfully unaware.

It’s only when he comes back from practice one particular day to find the house dead quiet and empty does he completely forget about his raging hormones. At first he thinks you’ve been hurt or something along those lines, the sounds of haptics he’d normally hear we completely gone. Hyunjin would walk through the house with tiptoes and cautious hands, dragging his fingertips along the walls until he heard a little gasp come from his bedroom, and suddenly his heart was calming a bit.

He rounded the corner to your room, peaking through the door expecting to see you laying in bed sleeping, too tired to wait for him to get home. But, no, that’s not it at all.

Hyunjin felt like his eyes would pop out of his head when he sees you in a pretty lace set, pink bra with a trim of white lace; panties matching with frills and a nice matching charm of an embroidered rose sewn in the middle of both the bra and panties. He’s practically drooling at this point, lips parted and skin hot.

You were just sitting there all pretty, hair twisted into waves, lips tinted with a cherry lip balm he was dying to taste.

“Baby? What are you….” Hyunjin walked into the room, trying so hard not to pounce at the sight of you. But the closer he got the hotter he felt; your hands innocently fiddling at the edge of the frills, the roundness in your wide eyes that always made him twitch just a little too much. You parted your lips once he stood just a foot before you in front of the bed, tiny compared to him as you sat. “Jinnie, I missed you.”

That’s what made a switch flip in his pretty mind, it wasn’t even a second before he was bending down to your level and smashing his lips against yours, earning a muffled gasp from you that quickly dissipated into a soft moan. A moan that went straight to his cock, aching and ready to finally get a taste of you.

“Fuck, baby, do you know how long I’ve wanted to take you like this?” He says as he’s rubbing his fingers against your tender parts, swallowing the sounds of your whimpers. His kisses were messy, and at this point he didn’t care much about making your first time special or sweet or wonderful; he just wanted to have you. Finally have you all for himself. And you’d gotten all dolled up for him too! Begging against his lips as a patch of sweet wetness began to form against your lacy panties. “To fuck you?” He’s practically panting now, spit dripping from your lips, his fingers pressing hard against your sensitive clit and making your mind fog. The foreign touch was heavenly, the itch of your lace panties making the pleasure all the more overwhelming. “Gonna let me finally fuck you, sweet girl? Hm? Tell me, doll.”

It’s only when you finally mewl out a helpless, disoriented, “Y-yes!” Does he slide your panties to your ankles and undress his cock, ignoring the way you squirmed at the big stretch of his dick as it sunk into you. It hurt but the deep groans that left him throat were enough to leave you dizzy and so perfectly full. And as the pain dissipated into pleasure you knew you couldn’t go without this lovely feeling again; how his veins were practically imprinted into your gummy walls, the look in his eyes as he stared down at you.

“My pretty little fuck doll,” Hyunjin is groaning as his release burns in his tummy, “Innocent little pussy taking me so well, love. Didn’t even have to prep you… fuck…”

Sorry this took a bit I was struggling to find the right words🤞 but I like how it turned out

[bluewatersfairy]

homebody - l.b.

loosely inspired by homebody by kalin white (a/n: i've been wanting to use this song for a longgg time)

synopsis: requested by @bemybinarystar! two people meet by chance on an app that thrives on anonymity and begin an x-rated relationship with one another filled with late night video calls.

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI!! depictions of sex work, mutual masturbation.

word count: 3.2k

•••

Melo grabbed his laptop and climbed on top of his bed, checking one last time that there were no tell-tale signs in view that would make him identifiable.  This had become a part of his routine and what was once him being cautious was now a natural habit.  He originally didn’t care, it never even crossed his mind, but she had told him he needed to, she didn’t want to know who he was.  That was weird for him to hear too, it reminded him of how different this relationship was.  If you could call it a relationship.

When he had first discovered her, he was doom scrolling on the type of site that was created for late-night rendezvous.  He’d convinced himself he was just curious, he’d laugh about it later and go back to the more traditional way of fulfilling his needs.  But then he saw her smile and he had to stop scrolling.  Her description was limited, her height, tag name, and that she was drawn to the anonymity of the site; tell me something good and maybe we can figure something out.

The only reason Melo had even caught her attention was because his profile looked like a cheap bot: 2 tall, 2 long, fire’n’ice, was all his profile said.  His request sat in her inbox for two days until he sent her another message, ‘you ever think about castles?  they got pretty ones by the lakes in lithuania.’  It was a bizarre opening, but it got him out of her requests and into her inbox.

They messaged back and forth for a full week before anything remotely sexual was discussed.  Melo liked that she wasn’t jumping at his every response and that it looked like she had a life too.  During that week, they hadn’t shared much about themselves, but he felt like she was investigating him, despite the very few questions she asked.  The first time he received the app notification that she’d sent him a picture, his palms started getting sweaty.  

He locked himself in his room, something that would become routine, laid back on his bed and opened her message thread.  It was a tasteful shot of her full thighs and ass peaky out of a red silk slip.  Her deep amber skin against the scarlet made him gulp.  It was so little, nothing he hadn’t seen before, but it pulled his interest and ignited his curiosity.  She had waited for him to see the message before she sent the follow up, ‘your turn…”

Melo had spent the next 10 minutes cleaning his floor and checking that nothing could be seen in the background from his messy room.  He spat in his palm and stroked his hard-on till it was raging and grown.  He held the base of his shaft with one hand and took a photo with the other before sending it through.  

That was two months ago and though neither of them had asked many personal questions, there was this unspoken bond between them.  She didn’t need him to say when he’d had a rough day, and he knew how she needed to be talked to.  He found himself thinking of her at the worst of times and turning to her when he needed a boost.  In return, he’d transfer undisclosed amounts of money to her account.  Again, this was something they hadn’t really talked about, it was an unspoken agreement.

Of course, she never expected him to be so generous.  

At first, she assumed that it was an attempt to impress her and keep her interested in him.  She had told him after maybe a week of exchanging racy pictures that she offered more, but for it to be fair to the other people she entertained, he had to pay a small fee that he felt reflected their time together.  The beauty of the site that she considered her secret life was that she got to choose her clients and could easily report and block people if they ever became aggressive or obsessive.  She’d always managed to attract men who exhibit something she’s attracted to, but she knew “fire’n’ice” was closer to her age and clearly in a high position, and that image was addictive to her.  

When he had first sent her a large sum out of the blue, she’d been 3 hours deep in official documents.  She imagined him in a similar position, probably in slacks and a white button up, trapped in his office thinking about taking her at his desk.  She’d quickly excused herself, citing lady problems, and clicked off to the employee bathroom.

Melo, who was standing in his kitchen heating up one of the several protein-based meals he had made weekly, received a message with 3 attachments.  She was spreading herself open for him, and had framed her tits in such a way, he just wanted to latch on.  He’d groaned loudly and abandoned his meal in favour of his room.  His cock was tight against his pants and the second he freed it, he felt the ache take over his body.  

He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured her, imagining how she posed.  He thrust into his fist and straggled words flew out of his mouth.  In the haze of the moment, he grabbed his phone and opened the camera. 

“Look at my fuckin’ cock, babygirl, look how hard it is for you.” He spat as he finished his sentence, needing more moisture so he could fuck his hand better.  “I bet you’d love to choke on my big fuckin’ dick, aye baby?  I’d fuck your face and finish all over your tits.”  

He paid no mind to what he was saying, he was just talking shit as he thrusted harder and faster into his hand.  His cum spurted all over his desk, some of it landing on his phone screen.  He swore and stopped the recording before bending over, his chest heaving.  He’d never thought to do something like that before.  She hadn’t even made a video for him, she’d only ever sent pictures.  What had she done to him?

The video worked in Lamelo’s favour in more ways than he could have possibly known.  She already had a growing soft spot for mr. fire’n’ice but that video sent him to the top of her list.  He was the first client she reached out to during the days and his sessions were always top priority for her.  It didn’t have much to do with the money, she was just drawn to him in every way a person can be to someone they’ve never met or even seen properly.  He even had her questioning if she should take a step back from her other clients and just entertain him.  

It was bad.  Unprofessional even.  But she couldn’t stop herself.

LaMelo was still checking his background when her call came in, popping up on his screen with her explicit profile icon highlighted with a red ring.  He pressed the green button and did one final adjustment to his laptop so all she could see was below his neck.  He always wore a black wife-beater so that his chest tattoo was mostly covered but so she could still get a good view of his toned torso and the ever growing bulge in his shorts.

“Hi pretty boy,” her ruby red lips pulled into a grin on his screen.  She looked like she was laying on her stomach, her tits pushed together under a slip of vibrant material.  

“‘Sup baby,” Melo swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, “you lookin’ edible.”

She giggled as she ran her hand down her neck before reaching somewhere off camera.  She was sitting up, he realised, before she brought something of a prop on screen.

“I was gonna say I found these today and thought of you,” she giggled again, “I know you’re much bigger, but you can’t tell me that’s not a close match.”  Melo smirked as he watched her twirl two rainbow lolly-cocks in the camera.  

“They not that girthy, you could still fit them in your mouth easy,” Melo felt his dick twitch as she rested her pouty lips on the tip of the lolly.

“Are you saying your dick won’t fit in my mouth?” she bit on her bottom lip and dragged her hand down her chest as she spoke.

“I’m sayin’ it won’t be easy.”  Melo’s hand moved to the bulge in his pants and he gently palmed it.

“I like a challenge,” she smiled, “I’ll make sure it fits baby, you know I’m a good girl for you.”

“Show me.” 

His voice was raspy, and his dick was hard.  She’d caught him at the perfect time and he knew she could tell just how desperate he was for her.  He didn’t care that she knew anymore.  Truthfully, he thought it showed how well they knew each other and how much he trusted her.  

“Of course baby,” she grinned before adjusting her laptop camera slightly.  

Melo watched closely as she spat on the tip of the lolly cock and used her tongue to glide it down.  Kitten licks and teasing kisses quickly turned into her pouty lips wrapped around the head.  The wet sounds her mouth made against the hard lolly did nothing but strengthen the pulse in Melo’s cock.  He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip before readjusting himself, watching as she pushed the lolly further into her mouth.  

“You’re such a good girl, baby,” Melo pushed out with his head leaning back.  He watched her through his eyelashes, picturing her wrapped around him.  His chest rose and fell at a steady pace and his skin flushed pink.  He was getting caught up in the thick of things, he barely processed her transitioning from the lolly cock to one of her dildos.

It was one they had purchased together.  It was a late night call, much like they were currently on, and she had wanted to find something a bit different for the two of them.  Her screen was shared with him as they scrolled through an adult website.  Every now and then Melo would point out one, whether he was being serious or joking was always up for interpretation.  

“I want something that’s like you,” she said sheepishly when Melo had asked why he was involved, “it’s like torture seeing such a pretty and big dick and not be able to ride it.”  

They’d found a dildo similar to his size and when it came in the mail a week later, Melo received a video of her putting it in her mouth, popping it out and pushing it between her tits.  She said she wouldn’t to anything else without him, but he was out of town and sharing a room so it would be a minute until he was going to be able to be alone with her.  It ended up being one of their better calls.  Melo could barely keep his eyes open by the end of it, he felt so fucked out and exhausted, you’d think she had actually been there to suck the soul out of him.  He’d jokingly texted her the next morning saying he had a sore wrist.  It wasn’t a complete joke though, many coaches commented on his shooting being off that day at practice. 

“Oh baby,” she moaned through the camera as she pulled the rubber cock out of her mouth, “touch yourself baby, show me how you stroke it.”

Melo was rock hard.  He hissed as he ran his hand up his thick shaft and circled his thumb over his throbbing head, spreading his leaked pre-cum so she could see it.  She spat on her dildo as he squirted lube on himself.  

“Follow my pace baby,” she instructed, “you know how much I love to push you.”

“I’ll do whatever you say baby,” Melo swallowed and began to stroke his dick as she jacked the dildo.  She switched between going fast and slow, bringing different sounds out of Melo as she encouraged him.  She moaned at every twitch of his dick and felt herself growing hotter and hotter with each stroke.

“Fuck,” she spat out as Melo had to let go of his cock, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut, “you wanna cum don’t you baby?”

“I don’t wanna,” Melo groaned as he smacked his cock, “you just drive me crazy Ma.”  His eyes refocused on his screen to find she’d changed positions.

She was sitting now, her thighs spread so her pussy was on full display.  Melo cussed at the sight of it.  Even through the camera he could tell she was just as heated as he was.  She was visibly swollen and practically dripping.  She giggled as she slipped her fingers through her folds, a visible tremble running through her at the same time.

“Look how ready I am for you,” she moaned as she fingered her clit, “you’d stretch me out so good with that big cock.”

“I’d give you the fuck of your life,” Melo gripped his cock again, “have yo ass screamin’.”

She picked up the dildo from her side and rubbed the tip against her entrance, “tell me baby,” she hummed, “tell me how you’d do me.”

“I’d fuck you in so many ways,” he started to jerk his cock again.  “God, I’d fuck you into your mattress baby, giving you the deepest strokes of your life.  You’ve never had a dick like this.”

“No I haven’t,” she whined, pushing the dildo inside her, “you’d have to go slow with me, I wanna make sure I feel every inch of you.”  she let out a gasp of a pet name, her free hand gripping on to her tit.

“God just the sight of your cock makes me feel crazy,” her hips were moving against her hand, pushing the rubber cock in and out, trying desperately to match Melo’s pace.  If he could function enough to think of anything at that moment, he’d appreciate her commitment to making it feel like they were together, fucking.  But his brain wasn’t working anymore.  Everything that came to mind was nothing shy of filth. 

“It’s all yours baby, and you’d look so fucking good bouncing on top of it.”

She moaned at his words, her tits bouncing as she fucked herself harder.  

“This big fucking dick is all yours, whenever you want it, I don’t care where, it’s yours.”

His room filled with a mix of her moans, his heavy breathing and the sound of his hand beating his cock, slapping with how fast he was jerking.

“Oh and this pussy is all yours daddy,” she moaned loudly, “I’m all yours baby.  You can put that pretty dick whereever you want and use me for whatever you need.  I just need you all over me daddy, your big hands wrapped in my hair, around my throat.”

“I’ll slut you out baby,” Melo groaned as he chased her words, “I’ll make you cum so much the whole world gon’ hear.”  

“I’m gonna cum,” she all but screamed, “keep talking, tell me baby, I want to hear you.”

“I’ll fuck you from behind in the mirror, baby.  Smack yo’ ass and pull your hair and make you look me in the eye while you cum all over my big dick.”  Melo repressed a loud moan and swallowed hard.  “We gon’ fuck all night, baby, the second you cum, I’m sticking it right back in there.  I’ll make it so you won’t be able to walk in the morning.”

Melo watched her body react to his words and struggled to process the sight. Her chest was heaving, fucking the dildo in and out of her hole with her hand tight on her clit.  She swore over and over again until her words were nothing but moans and Melo saw everything reach it’s peak.  She pulled the dildo out of her and did everything she could to stop her thighs from clamping shut.

“Holy fuck,” she gasped with her head thrown back and her hands jammed between her thighs.  She collasped against whatever was behind her and Melo watched her spread herself open and squirt.  “Oh baby, I’m cumming so fucking hard.”

Melo just about double over, letting out the loudest moans and groans he’d ever made as his load spurted out of his tip.  He massaged his balls and watched his seed cover his lower stomach and parts of his laptop.

“Fuck,” he sighed as he leaned back and let his dick stand to its own want.  

For a minute, the two of them didn’t move, just panting heavily staring at one another.  Occasionally, he’d stroke his shaft and rub his balls at the same time to see if he had anything left.  She was the first one to move, laying back down to the position she’d been in when the call started.

“Every time I think we’ve reached our peak, you go and do the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she giggled as she put one of her fingers to her lips.

“Tell me how that pussy tastes babe,” he said, his voice audibly strained.  She smirked and put her fingers in her mouth, sucking them off.

“It tastes sweet and creamy,” she let her wet fingers drag down her naked torso to her nipples.

“You’re a fuckin’ problem,” Melo grinned and shook his head, reaching for the rag he washed for this call.

“I’m a problem?” she giggled, pointing to herself, “you’re the one who’s got me thinking of throwing all the policies out the window.”

“Policies?” Melo asked, suddenly brought out of his post-nut daze.  “What are you tryna say?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug, “but don’t you feel it too?  Don’t you want to see my face?  Know my name?”

“I want all of the above, baby,” Melo pulled his laptop closer to him.  “Are you saying there’s more we could do?”

“I’m just thinking out loud here,” she hesitated, “you’re the first person I feel like I’d be safe sharing my secrets with.”  What was she saying?

It was a big confession, she wants to elevate things.  Melo couldn’t decide if it was his money or him but he really didn’t care.  He wanted to have her name and he wanted her to know his name.  But it’s unique, and she’d know exactly who he was if he said it.

Fuck it.

“LaMelo,” he rushed to say, spitting it out before he could think twice.  “I’m LaMelo.”

She smiled wide and he watched as she reached out to her laptop screen and pushed it back slightly.

“I’m Y/N,” she giggled.

LaMelo repeated her name, letting it pass through his lips to see how it’d feel saying it.

“So Y/N,” Melo smiled as he pushed his laptop screen a bit too, showing more of him, “if I offered to fly you out, would you say no?”

“Oh baby,” she smirked, “I’d be there in a heartbeat.  I want all that dick in real life.”

“Aight, bet,” Melo picked up his phone from beside him, “you give me a date and I’ll work out all the rest.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male dullahan x gn reader (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

OH boy, this is a personal one for me on a number of levels (which usually means it's gonna tank), but here's the first of my five new commissions - this one is for the incredibly supportive and sweet @doomfisthero.

It features one of the Supernatural Biker Gang I mentioned in this post, which a lot of you seemed to like, so I hope you're keen to meet the cheeky, goofball dullahan with a heart of gold! Not gonna lie, I went way over the agreed wordcount for this one because it's the world I've already started building, and it's got characters I've already been thinking of for a while.

Content: gender neutral reader who experiences severe anxiety around being pranked/practical joked, which occurs at one point in the story. There’s no malicious intent or bullying behind the prank, and it gets discussed afterwards. The reader is a writer, doing research for a story about bikers, and has no idea that there's something a little 'extra' about this gang. Their friend, Adi, is dating one of them already, and I hope to write their story soon too.

Wordcount: 9216

“God, this was such a stupid idea,” you muttered as you approached the only shop on that wide, empty side street. Its metal sign swung gently back and forth in a light, autumn breeze, displaying a full moon on a black background, with a cruiser-style motorbike silhouetted in front of it, and the white, artfully-distressed font underneath it read ‘Full Moon Motorcycles’.

A second later, your friend stepped out onto the pavement and you knew there was no turning back. Adrianne grinned at you, so you kicked your feet back into motion and closed the distance between you, offering her a small hug. Your leather messenger bag bumped against your hip with the movement, and you wondered if perhaps you should have left your notebook and stuff at home for this first time. It felt more like an interview than getting to know them, and you were worried the group of unfamiliar bikers might take offence that you essentially wanted to study them for your novel.

“Ready to meet the gang?” she laughed, sweeping her messy, dark blonde hair back out of her eyes. “God, you look terrified. Come on, they’re nice! Except maybe Pixie. Don’t mess with her, but she’s not here today. Or Demon, but even he’s ok when you get to know him, I swear.”

“Not helping, Adi,” you grumbled.

Ever since she’d started working for Dahlia Ink across town about six months ago, Adrianne had been hanging around with the group of bikers who all got their ink done there it seemed, and it had almost felt like serendipity in action when she’d told you about them over coffee last weekend. You didn’t tend to talk much about your writing, even with your friends, but you trusted Adi, and she’d always been supportive of your career as an author, so you’d shyly opened up to her about your latest idea for a story featuring a group of bikers. You did leave out the part where the bikers in your story were mostly vampires and werewolves, with a few other supernatural species thrown in as well. Fantasy had always been your comfort-genre, but people had snickered in the past and made you feel like it wasn’t a ‘serious’ genre that ‘serious’ writers pursued, so you’d omitted it this time while telling her about it.

“It’s the perfect excuse for you to come and finally meet Țepeș then!” she’d blurted excitedly into the foam of her cappuccino, her green-brown eyes going wide with excitement at the idea of including you in her group of new friends. They all had weird nicknames, and you had no idea if it was a ‘biker’ thing or just a ‘them’ thing, but you’d been burning up with curiosity about them ever since she’d first started dating the one called Țepeș. “I’ve been dying to find an excuse for you to come meet him. Plus you can ask him anything you want to know for your story, and — oh…”

Her face had fallen, and you’d frowned, heart dropping already. “What?”

“Eh, he’s… he’s not completely non-verbal, but Țepeș doesn’t exactly find talking easy. Maybe you could come to the shop and meet the rest of them instead though? I’m sure Pickle or Pumpkin would love to talk your ear off about their bikes…”

“I dunno, I don’t want to get in the way,” you’d said, trying not to let that tiny, kindling ember of hope in your chest wink out completely. “But if you wanted to ask them…?”

She’d run it past her boyfriend, and Țepeș had said he’d ask Hank. Hank, apparently, was the guy who ran the bike shop where they’d all met and first formed their group, and two nights later, you’d got a text in all caps from Adi saying ‘BASIC BIKER 101 FOR WRITERS IS ON!!!! When are you next free?!!!’

A week later, you and your messenger bag with notebook and pens had shown up outside Full Moon Motorcycles, with little clue what to expect, and a heart full of trepidation.

Adrianne giggled as she ushered you inside, and to your relief, you found there were only two other people inside instead of a shop full of strangers. An array of bikes for sale was lined up around the right hand side of the space, and against the back wall there was a wooden counter almost like a bar, where the vintage till and a few key chains were displayed, while the left side of the space appeared to be a more general spot for tinkering and hanging out. Even with the light flooding in through the two huge, picture windows on either side of the door, the lighting was soft, and the polished concrete floor created a mellow atmosphere. The scent of coffee and motor oil hung heavy in the air, and you found it oddly comforting as you soaked it all up.  

Behind the counter, a stocky man with greying, wavy hair that wasn’t quite long enough to tie back but was too long to look tidy smiled you and raised a meaty hand. His blue tartan shirt stretched precariously over a hearty paunch, and he exuded a jovial kind of warmth as his honey-brown eyes crinkled. “Hey there,” he said. “I’m Hank, though most people round here just call me Dad —”

“— he adopts literally everyone who walks through that door, so congrats on joining the family,” Adi laughed.

“Take your pick on names,” Hank chortled. “I understand you’re a writer…” He seemed interested and a little impressed, which was a bit of a confidence boost.

“Yeah,” you croaked and cleared your throat. “Yeah… uh… thank you for letting me hang out here for a bit. I don’t know anything about bikes… I’m just looking to learn a bit so it makes sense for my novel, you know? I’m not going to get in anyone’s way.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” he smiled, gesturing dismissively with his massive paw of a hand. “You just ask what you like and we’ll do our best to help you out. You must know Țepeș already if you’re Adi’s friend?”

You shook your head and Hank looked across the room to where the other person was lurking at the back of the space. You hadn’t noticed Adi leaving your side, but when you turned around, you found her standing with both hands pressed fondly against the chest of the tall, imposing biker dressed all in black and wearing his helmet too, which you thought was an odd choice. But what did you know about the habits of bikers? You were there to learn after all; learn and observe.

Adi waved you over, and you swallowed your nerves and cast Hank a farewell glance before approaching. When Adi stepped back, Țepeș pushed himself off the wall and held out his hand to you to shake. It, like the rest of him, was covered in leather or padded gear. There wasn’t a scrap of skin showing on him anywhere, and with your own face reflected in his black visor, it was impossible to get a read on him.

As if she’d read your mind, Adi smacked Țepeș in the chest with the back of her hand and said, “At least put your visor up, you big, intimidating doofus.”

He snorted a silent laugh and lifted the catch on his visor to reveal a sliver of pale skin and irises as black as the rest of his leather gear. Like Hank’s though, his eyes were kindly, and he closed them briefly as he inclined his head in a kind of apologetic bow. You shrugged, and he laughed breathily.

Hank chose that moment to come over, and you jumped as he clapped you on the shoulders. How a man built like a grizzly in autumn had moved so quietly was a mystery. “Come on, Țepeș, why don’t we give our new friend a demonstration of how a bike works? Since your Ducati is in, why don’t we use that?”

Țepeș gave a quick nod, and ducked away through the door that stood in the centre of the back wall, and a moment later, he pushed an absolute monster of a bike out into the empty space. He jutted his chin towards the front door, and Adi nipped over to open it for him, and when you frowned, she laughed. “That Streetfighter is so fucking loud,” she snorted. “You do not want him starting it up in here.”

“And nor do I!” Hank called, now mysteriously back behind the till though you hadn’t heard him leave. You made a mental note to weave something like that into your story for the supernatural biker characters, and then nodded, feeling sheepish, and followed the two of them out of the shop and onto the quiet side-street outside.

Until six months ago, Adi hadn’t known anything about bikes either, so she used your introductory tutorial as a kind of test for herself, interspersed with little glances up at Țepeș to check that she’d got it right. He either nodded or pointed to correct her, but he didn’t speak. She hadn’t been kidding about him being mostly non-verbal.

After Adi had shown you the basics of the bike’s anatomy, Țepeș patted the seat of the bike and gestured to her to get on it, but she laughed and shook her head. “No way, babe. I’m way too short.”

He put his fists comically on his hips and shook his head, then patted the seat again like he was trying to get a wilful cat up onto a chair.

She made a noise of protest, but did swing a leg over and then hoisted herself evenly into the seat, both legs dangling freely a good way off the ground.

“Happy now?” she shot at him and he nodded emphatically, bringing both hands to the sides of his helmet in a way that mimicked a person losing their mind over a cute kitten. “You’re lucky I love you, you overgrown dork,” she muttered. “Anyway,” she said, turning back to you. “Since this beast has made me get up here, I’m going to start his bike. Not so funny now that I could actually fuck it up, is it?” she grinned.

Țepeș remained perfectly still, and you got the impression it was a comical warning.

“I can’t flat-foot it,” she said to you, “So I’m gonna rest my left foot on the curb after I’ve flicked the kickstand up,” she said. “You can’t start most bikes with the kickstand still down.”

You noted that down, and let her get on with the rest of the sequence uninterrupted, which seemed a lot more complicated than you’d imagined.

Near the end of your tutorial on how to start a bike and the basics of clutch control, and the apparent struggle to find neutral, the sound of a number of approaching engines tore through the quiet afternoon. You looked back over your shoulder to see three sports bikes round the corner and make their way towards you.

The three riders couldn’t have been more different. The one you noticed first was riding a big, brash, bright orange bike that reminded you a bit of a sporty looking dirt bike, and he was wearing, of all things, a black and white cow onesie, with a cow helmet cover complete with fabric horns and ears.

“Fucking Pumpkin,” Adi laughed. “Honestly. I think you’ll love him.”

“Pumpkin?” you asked, wondering how on earth he’d got that name. Then again, Țepeș was a pretty unusual nickname. Perhaps he was a vampire under all that leather, shielding himself from the fury of the sun with his biker gear just so he could spend more time with his human lover during the day… You yanked your over-active imagination back into the present and out of your fantasy novel, and watched the trio of bikers approach down the quiet side street.

“Yeah, Pumpkin’s his name. It’s because he’s a —” Țepeș elbowed Adi in the ribs sharply enough that she had to grab the handlebars to stop herself toppling off his bike. Her eyes went wide and she instantly clicked her jaw shut.

As an author, you were used to watching and studying people, and noting your observations for later. Another writer you knew online had called it ‘cataloguing the everyday’, and it was an apt description. Adi had very nearly given away something huge about Pumpkin, and Țepeș had given her a silent but stern warning.

“Because he loves pranks, like on Halloween?” she finished a little too quickly. “He dresses up with silly helmet covers all the time and he likes to play jokes on people.”

Maybe he wasn’t your kind of person at all. The very idea of having a practical joke pulled on you was enough to make you feel sick and shaky all over. You'd always hated them, and they’d always left you feeling devastated and on-edge if they happened to you. The more you trusted the person, the worse it felt afterwards.

Țepeș’ huge hand landed carefully on your shoulder joint and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly at you. At least, you thought he was smiling reassuringly. All you could see were his glinting black eyes that were creased at the corners, and the way the apples of his pale cheeks were slightly more squished than usual behind the padding in his helmet.

You tried out a smile of your own, and then realised that Adi was talking again.

“He’s such a goofball, but that’s got to be his craziest outfit yet! You should see his other helmet covers; they’re all bonkers. My favourite is the pink rabbit one.”

Țepeș nodded once in agreement and let go of your shoulder. You swayed a little at the loss, feeling untethered.

“The guy on the red Ducati is Demon, and the short one on the Ninja in the middle is Pickle.”

When the newcomers spotted the three of you standing around Țepeș’ bike, Pumpkin revved raucously, almost seeming to make his bike laugh with joy at the sight of you. Then he hauled it up into a massive wheelie, only dropping back down once he’d torn past you in a near-vertical pose. Your heart was in your mouth the whole time, but he looked relaxed and even amused behind that absurd costume as he landed it and swerved the bike around to make his way back towards you while the other two came over in a more sedate fashion. In fact, they were so sedate it reminded you of two sharks approaching, and your mouth went dry. Adi had said they were cool with you being there and asking questions, but just then, it didn’t really feel like it.

The one riding the lurid, neon green bike was so short that you wondered for a crazy second if maybe they were a child. The owner of the red bike revved his something wicked as he cruised to a stop, and you had to fight the urge to step back. It felt like being roared at full in the face by a lion, and it didn’t help at all that the guy had curling ram’s horns adorning his black helmet. Even though it was a nippy autumn day, he was wearing a white t-shirt that showed off a golden tan and a truly impressive physique, and his black jeans had a rip in the knee that added to his tough-guy appearance.

Standing beside his own bike, Țepeș folded his arms and jutted his chin in a warning. Demon revved his deafening bike once more though, and the back wheel skimmed from side to side on the tarmac as blue smoke churned up into the air.

Țepeș shook his head and a few seconds later, Demon stopped his mini burnout, and instead leaned forwards on the bike, resting one arm casually on the tank. His whole attention was fixed on you and you tried hard not to regret all of this. It was research. You were here for your story. It was fine. His visor was tinted like Țepeș’ was, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze through the plastic just as clearly as if there had been nothing blocking his eyes from yours.

“Just giving a welcome to your new friend, Țepeș,” the guy purred in a silky baritone that made you think of teeth in the dark.

As the brief puff of acrid smoke from his tyres cleared, the short rider flipped their visor up and regarded you with beady, golden eyes that had to be contacts, surely? Even the pupils were slitted like a cat’s. 

“Who’s this?” came a reedy, tenor voice from under the helmet. Definitely not a child after all, and their skin had a strange, greenish tinge to it that you initially took to be makeup until you realised it went all the way down their cheeks as well. Tattoos? Some kind of condition? You tried not to stare.

Before either you or Adi could respond to their question, the cow onesie rider screeched to a comical halt beside the other two, locking up the front wheel and making the rear of his bike kick up like a bronco, and Adi shook her head. “Pumpkin, honestly. What are you like?”

“I’m Legen-dairy!” he grinned, gesturing wide with both hands. “Oh, hey! New friend?!” he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically when he saw you standing awkwardly beside Țepeș’ bike. He had a lilting Irish accent and a playful intonation that warmed you to him immediately, despite knowing about his penchant for practical jokes.

“Don’t mind Pumpkin,” Adi smiled at you. “He’s… something else.”

“I’m highly a-moo-sing, is what I am,” the guy chuckled. His words sounded clearer than the others behind their helmets, and you wondered if it was something about the design that made it easier to hear him.

“Oh god, please stop with the cow puns,” Pickle groaned, casting him a withering look with those unusual eyes.

“But Pickle, I’m udderly fantastic!”

“Stop.”

“This is just plain bull-ying!” Pumpkin whined, and then he started to bop up and down on his bike as he sang, “My milkshake brings—”

“If you howl one more out of tune word, Demon will eat you for breakfast, and not in a fun way,” Pickle said, casting a glance at the biker with the horns on his helmet.

For answer, the biker in question cocked his head just a little to one side, and Pumpkin slumped in his seat, arms and legs dangling comically, head lolling forwards so that the soft horns on his helmet cover flopped. He let out a long, sad mooing noise sound that dissolved into giggles at the end, and Pickle punched him on the arm.

“Loser,” Pickle snorted with obvious fondness.

“Anyway, I want you to meet my friend,” Adi cut in, turning to you. “I’m sorry you had to meet Pumpkin when he’s in this mood, but —”

“Moo-d!” Pumpkin interrupted triumphantly and immediately burst out laughing. He almost tipped backwards off his big, orange bike. Even you managed to crack a shy smile at that one. It was infectious.

“I give up,” Pickle said, and hopped down off his green Kawasaki, disappearing into the shop without a backward glance just as Hank stepped out.

“How’s that lesson going?” he asked you.

“I’m not planning on riding solo any time soon,” you smiled, “But I’ve got enough of an idea of how things work to start writing, I think.”

Hank nodded and, glancing around at Pumpkin who was still bouncing up and down and making his suspension creak a little, said, “Ah, they’re all idiots, but they’re kind, and they’re my idiots.”

He introduced you by name, and told Pumpkin and Demon why you were there. Pumpkin seemed intrigued, tilting his head to one side and calming his crazy energy a little as he regarded you through the tinted visor, but Demon growled softly as he pushed himself upright again and folded his arms across his ripped chest, muttering something about letting their guard down again.

Țepeș moved away from his bike, petting the back of Adi’s blonde head in a fond, distracted gesture, and then signalled for Demon to follow him inside, which, to your surprise, the big guy did. He walked like a Greek god — like he owned the place and not Hank — but it was clear that he had respect for Țepeș.

Pumpkin took advantage of their absence and leaned a little way off his bike towards you. “So, you’re a writer? That’s pretty cool. And you’re writing a… a book? A story? About bikers?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the main focus, but it’s a big part of it.” If you hadn’t wanted to open up to Adi about it being a supernatural fantasy story, you sure as heck weren’t going to admit it to a bunch of intimidating, high-octane bikers. “It was Adi who suggested I come and learn a bit more about it all from you guys though…” you said, not wanting them to think you’d just inserted yourself into their group without invitation. Especially given Demon’s weird reaction.

“Awesome,” Pumpkin said, fist-bumping Adi then turning back to you. “You gonna ride with us? We’re all heading out in a bit so you should come too!”

“I… maybe?” you faltered. That had not been on the cards for the day, but the more you thought about it, the more your heart began to race.

“The KTM has a passenger seat,” Pumpkin said, gesturing behind him and patting his pillion seat. “You can be my backpack if you like! I promise I won’t wheelie. I’m not taking the onesie off though,” he added, mooing and shaking his head so that the fabric horns waggled comically.

His energy and enthusiasm really were infectious. He bounced up and down again like an excitable, cow-print puppy, and you bit your lip. The idea of holding onto him, of being perched on the back of his mad, orange bike, was oddly… enticing. Even with his embarrassing costume.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun! It’s only a short ride because Coco’s Honda’s playing up for some reason,” he added. “Is she here yet? I don’t see her little bumblebee…”

“Bumblebee?” you asked.

“Coco’s bike is a Honda Hornet,” Adi supplied. “She’s got these little antennae for her helmet too. It’s so cute. And no,” she added to Pumpkin. “You guys are the first.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the day’s riders to arrive, and soon you watched a screaming pink bike roll up, with its rider wearing baby pink leathers and a pink helmet. Her name was Barbie, appropriately enough, and a few minutes later, a skinny guy in all black leathers with a black helmet bearing a decal like a maw full of teeth pulled up, alongside Coco on her black and yellow Honda Hornet that looked very much like the Transformer.

“I see why you call it Bumblebee,” you said to Adi, who was standing on the pavement with you, chatting and slipping you random bits of information about both the bikes and the bikers. The others had all gone inside, leaving you with Adi still casually sitting astride her boyfriend’s enormous, black Ducati Streetfighter outside in the sunshine, and honestly it was nice to catch your breath and let your heart rate settle again.

Pumpkin, apparently, was only a few years older than you, and he had moved to the city to get away from his family and their career expectations for him. His name was actually Callahan, or Cal, but literally everyone called him Pumpkin.

Pickle was non-binary and surprisingly a full decade older than you. They lived with their mother, who needed a bit of extra care these days, and had taken up riding only a year or so ago. Demon, Adi didn’t discuss at all, and she said little about Barbie other than that she kept herself to herself a lot and was pretty shy.

Coco came out to soak up some autumn sunshine a while later, and was one of the only bikers who actually took off her helmet. Beneath it, she had thick, wavy, chocolate brown hair and brown eyes that made you want to drown in them, and a smile so pretty it made your heart skip several beats. She gave off the kind of energy that made you feel safe and relaxed, and you let out a long, slow exhale, feeling the sun wash up over your skin.

That peace lasted until Demon stormed out of the shop, followed by Pumpkin, Țepeș, and Pickle.

“Everything ok?” Adi whispered to Țepeș when he came over and hugged her tightly from behind before passing her a spare helmet. He nodded and jerked his thumb towards his bike. “Yeah, I’m good to go. You coming?” she asked you, and you found yourself nodding before you’d even realised.

“Yes!” Pumpkin bayed in triumph and you startled, not having heard him return to his bike. “You’re mine! I claim you. You’re my backpack!”

“Like anyone else wants a human for baggage,” Demon muttered so quietly you weren’t sure you were supposed to have heard it. As he passed, he slammed his visor back down and you could have sworn that he’d had completely scarlet eyes. You wondered if you were losing your mind a little bit, or if the fantasy of your novel was beginning to bleed into the real world through your over-active imagination.  

Pumpkin practically vaulted back up onto his orange bike and he held out his hand to you. “Alright! My precious and beautiful backpack,” he said, “Hop on!”

Easier said than done, you thought, ignoring the compliment. You watched your reflection distort in his visor as he turned his head when you faltered anxiously.

“I’ll look after you, I promise. But I’m gonna rely on you to tell me if Pickle’s coming for my killswitch, ok?”

Recalling your brief lesson with Țepeș, you eyed the red switch on his right handlebar and said, “That?”

“Yeah, that. Protect it at all costs,” he giggled. “I mean, not all costs, obviously but… Actually, scratch that. It’s Ninja you wanna watch out for. He’s a sneaky, sneaky boy. He blends in so no one sees him coming…” A few of them laughed in a way that made you feel like there was more to it than just an inside joke, and your stomach churned.

A glance back at the skinny guy on the black bike behind you revealed Ninja tilting his hands outwards in a ‘who, me?’ kind of gesture. Hank came over and gave you a helmet, taking your messenger bag from you and promising to keep it safe behind the counter. You slid the helmet on and buckled it up, trying not to feel like an impostor.

Getting aboard wasn’t as hard as you’d thought it was going to be, with brief instruction from Adi and Pumpkin on how to put your feet on the pegs, though you did clunk your helmet against Pumpkin’s when you leaned too far forward, but he made things easier by telling you to hold him round the waist. He turned back over one shoulder and said, “It’s kinda forward, but I don’t mind. You’re cute and I don’t want you falling off.” He had such a lovely voice — warm and rich and reassuring — and you found yourself laughing softly.

“If you say so.”

Pumpkin talked a mile a minute and you really had to work to process everything he was saying as it tumbled out of him in a wild, happy torrent. “You are cute! You’re gonna have a blast today. I can’t believe I’m your first! Oh, and watch out for silly string too. I don’t think Pickle has any in their pocket today, but last time they got me good and it was all over my helmet and my orange baby,” he added petting the tank of his bike.

Your heart lurched at the idea of these pranks maybe escalating, and you tried to swallow down the nausea; you did not want to be sick in a motorcycle helmet. The cold sweat took a while to evaporate and you were sure Pumpkin would feel your heartbeat as you clung onto him before he’d even started the bike. The cow onesie did add a little levity though, and you tried not to feel too silly.

When Adi was safely aboard Țepeș’ bike, Țepeș revved his readiness a few times from the rear of the group, and Pumpkin nodded. “Forward!” he yelled, pointing like he was leading a cavalry charge as he nudged up his kickstand and prepared to draw away.

Adi had been right.

The ride was amazing.

Terrifying, exhilarating, wonderful, and, in the strangest way possible, it made you forget everything.

All you could focus on was the way Pumpkin moved with the bike like it was a part of him — almost like a rider and his horse — and on trying to move with him as he leaned into the corners. He was slim and fit beneath your grip, and he didn’t seem to be wearing any kind of padding under the onesie, but he was wearing biker boots instead of ordinary shoes. There was something alluring about the fact you’d not seen his face and he’d not taken his helmet off. Țepeș had a similar vibe, but it was Pumpkin and his wild, silly energy you found yourself drawn to. It was almost euphoric to be able to press the front of your body against this kind, funny stranger’s back and let him sweep you along the roads.

Of course, there were shenanigans at the first red light you came to.

Pickle came for Pumpkin’s killswitch immediately — almost like they were testing you — but you tapped Pumpkin on the shoulder when you saw Pickle stalking up the line of bikes. Ninja covered his killswitch and waggled a finger at Pickle, and when Pumpkin saw who was coming, he patted your thigh a few times. “Nice one,” he said with a grin evident in his voice. “Best early warning system and best backpack ever! You can ride with me every time!”

You glowed with pride, even though you knew it was probably only fun and games, and when Pickle failed to catch Pumpkin’s killswitch and the lights changed, you laughed with the rest of them as Pickle bolted back to their Ninja and hopped comically onto it at the very last second while Pumpkin sped away fast enough to make you yelp and grip him hard around the middle. You felt him laugh and held him tighter.

He petted your hands where they were laced securely in front of him, and even though you didn’t have comms in your helmet, you got the message: ‘I’ve got you’. You did feel safe with him despite his love of pranks, and you were literally trusting him with your life as you rode behind him.

When the ride came to an end about an hour later, and the group drew to a halt at Full Moon Motorcycles again, you were shaky with the aftereffects of adrenaline and from simply holding on, but beneath your helmet, you were grinning wildly. Secretly, you already couldn’t wait for the next ride and prayed he would ask you again.

Pickle pulled their bike up on your right, the green Ninja 400 idling gently, and when they killswitched Pumpkin’s bike at last, Pumpkin guffawed, but without missing a beat he extended his right leg and tapped the gear lever down to put Pickle’s bike into first, making the bike stall and lurch forwards.

“Gotcha!” he crowed, and then helped you off the back by letting you steady yourself on his shoulders. “And for the pièce de résistance,” he said, fishing in the pouch of his onesie, and he turned something cylindrical in your direction. “I was saving this for Pickle, but since it’s your first ride, you deserve a decent celebration!”

With a loud bang and a flurry of coloured squares of paper, a confetti cannon went off in your face and you screeched in shock, tripping over your heels and landing hard on the pavement behind you. The pieces of paper fluttered down around you while panic and fear and everything you hated about being pranked exploded out of you. Your heartbeat went through the roof. You just glimpsed the horns of Demon’s helmet in the doorway to the shop, and your heart dropped when you saw he was laughing.

Pumpkin was laughing too, and pointing, and beside him Pickle clapped their gloved hands and crooned, “Oh man, he got you good!”

He had got you good, and you hated it.

You hated that it was just a silly, harmless prank, but you were reacting like he’d done something serious. You hated that you couldn’t just laugh it off the way they all did. You hated that you took it so seriously; that it felt like the worst kind of betrayal of that fragile trust you’d started to put in a stranger. And then, behind the visor of your helmet, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

A huge figure appeared in your blurred vision and you looked up to find Țepeș kneeling down beside you. He blocked the others from your sight with his massive body, and he lifted his visor to show his black eyes full of concern.

You nodded, trying to pull yourself together and grateful beyond belief that the helmet was still covering your face, even though it felt like you were running out of oxygen in there. Pulling yourself together was like trying to hold a bag full of sand with fraying seams. You were seeping and spilling out all over the place and you couldn’t stop. You tried to tell yourself it was just a confetti cannon. You tried to tell yourself it was just a bit of fun.

You tried, and failed.

“I’m… I’m ok… I’m…” you gulped, aware of how choked your voice sounded.

Țepeș stood and held out a hand, pulling you to your feet and ushering you carefully inside. You didn’t miss the way he put himself between you and Demon, who was still snickering in the doorway, and you let him lead you into the shop and into the back room.

He snagged a box of tissues from under the shop’s counter in passing and guided you into a chair. He signalled for you to undo your helmet, which you did with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry,” you gulped as you drew it off over your head and set it on the floor. “I’m sorry I’m overreacting.”

Țepeș shook his head and squeezed your shoulder, offering you a tissue.

“It’s just a prank, I know that, but…”

Again, he squeezed your shoulder, and you took a deeper, steadier breath.

“I hate pranks. Even the harmless ones. I always overreact like this. I’m sorry. It’s not his fault, but… I thought… I thought maybe he… he wouldn’t…”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Țepeș made a ‘stay there’ gesture with his hand and ducked out of the room. A short, seemingly one-sided conversation passed outside while you fought to control yourself again, and then Pumpkin ducked inside.

“Hey,” he said, and your heart broke a little at the change in his energy. It was like he’d completely deflated. He was still wearing the cow onesie though, which brought a slightly hysterical chuckle to your lips before you could stop it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of your chair. “I… I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

“It’s not you,” you said, sniffling and turning away, cuffing at your eyes. “I just overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” he said, and your brain screeched to a halt.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have done it to you. I didn’t know if you were cool with it, and I just assumed that… that because everyone else likes my pranks… that you’d be ok with it too, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never ever pull anything like that on you again. Ever.” He crossed his thumb across his heart. “I swear on my True Name.”

The wording was odd, but the air seemed to crystallise around you for a second, and your breath caught. “Like a Fae,” you mumbled without thinking.

He tilted his helmeted head a little. “Yeah,” he said and his voice had an odd ring to it. “You… You know about… about the Fae?”

“I’m writing a book…” you croaked, not really thinking about what you were saying. “Supernatural theme… I’ve always written fantasy stuff… Look, I’m sorry. I’m over-sharing about stuff that isn’t even real. I’m good,” you said, and stood up abruptly, setting your borrowed helmet down on the chair and turning to look at him. He was on his feet again, but he was just standing there.

You walked out into the main shop but he called your name and you halted and turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Are… Are you gonna come back?”

You bit your lip. You probably had enough to write the book now — the biker part of it wasn’t even the main focus after all — but until the prank, you’d felt included and welcomed, and, as you thought about it, the prank had also been meant to welcome you into the fold. It wasn’t Pumpkin’s fault that you had reacted the way you did.

“You want me to?” you asked.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I’d love it. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone I’ve wanted to be my backpack before, and you rode like a natural today,” he added, taking a step towards you. “Please. I promise no one will do any pranks when you’re with us. No silly string, no confetti cannons.”

“I don’t mind it… With the others, I mean,” you said, the words grinding out of you like a boulder uphill. “I mean… So long as it’s not me.”

“Ok, we’ll dial it back,” he compromised. “I’ll even give you one of my little stretchy sticky hands if you like so you can team up on Pickle with me. We duel at the lights sometimes. Does that count as a prank?”

You shook your head, fighting back a resurgence of emotions, mostly good this time.

“Ok. I’m really sorry,” he said again.

“I believe you,” you said.

“Thank you,” Pumpkin replied, his whole body looking relieved. It was amazing how expressive someone could be, even without being able to see their face. “Let me give you my number and I’ll text you when we’re going out next. Or… Or maybe we could go out just the two of us?”

That seemed like way more pressure than you’d been expecting, but you nodded all the same when you realised you weren’t put off by it at all.

As you left the shop not long afterwards, having recovered enough to let the red fade from your eyes, Demon looked you up and down and then approached Pumpkin. You glanced back over your shoulder to see him looming down over Pumpkin, and you just caught him growling, “What happens when you need to take that helmet off eh, Dullahan? You think that cute accent is going to be enough to hide the fact you don’t have a fucking head under there?”

Your breath caught and you tripped, turning away before either of them could notice your reaction.

For a moment, when Demon had spat the word ‘Dullahan’ you’d thought he’d said ‘Callahan’ — Pumpkin’s real name — but the instant he’d said Pumpkin didn’t have a head, your mind made the connection.

Dullahan.

A Fae without a head, traditionally a headless horseman.

The way Pumpkin had moved with his bike, like it was a living creature, had reminded you of a horse and its rider, and you had to wonder if the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ had come from the cartoonish depictions of Dullahans on Halloween with a pumpkin for a head instead of their real one. They did have a head, you knew from research for your writing, but they tended to keep it hidden since that was where their power resided. They could only be harmed if you hurt their head, or if they were wearing it when you attacked them.

But that was all fantasy, right?

Then Demon’s red eyes flickered across your memory, and the weird emphasis he’d put on the word ‘human’ in his snide remarks, and the way you’d thought maybe Țepeș was a vampire because he kept his skin covered up, and the fact that Pickle’s skin was entirely green and they had gold eyes with cat’s pupils… it was all way too much of a coincidence. Right?

You walked home in a daze, not even saying goodbye to Adi who was talking quietly with Țepeș in the long, late afternoon shadows cast by the bike shop’s wall.

Over the next few rides with Pumpkin, you tried to figure out a way to broach the topic. If you just blurted it out, you had no idea how the others would react, so you dropped little hints to Pumpkin that you were writing a supernatural story and that you’d been researching the supernatural for a while, and how you’d always hoped there was more out there than met the eye. You even mentioned it a couple of times on group rides to see how the others reacted, and predictably, it was Demon who bristled, and Pumpkin who looked uncomfortable. Like he had a secret he wanted to tell you.

Each time you did it, he looked torn, like he was right on the cusp of telling you the truth.

It finally came to an ugly head one afternoon as the riding season drew to a close in late October and you all came back from a huge group ride that had included a few more riders whom you’d not met before, but who evidently knew the rest of the group.

As you went inside to return the helmet that Hank always lent you, you caught the sound of an argument and hung back in the small storage room behind the main shop to avoid it, heart in your throat and the helmet forgotten in one hand.

Pickle was standing in the main area of the shop with their helmet dangling from their hand this time, and you gasped when you saw sharply-tapered ears and a row of pointed teeth in their mouth, and green skin that went all the way down below their collar. Definitely not a tattoo. They looked sharp, their features inhuman; like one of the goblins in your novel. If you’d needed confirmation that they weren’t human, this had to be it.

Pickle was  arguing with Adi and Demon, and Pumpkin was there too, looking helplessly from one to the other of them.

Demon was shouting, and he didn’t have his helmet on either. Perhaps they’d thought you’d already left. The horns that adorned his helmet were… actually attached to his head, not his helmet. He had horns. They obviously grew from his hairline, his black hair waving around them like a river of oil that had a rainbow sheen on it, and his eyes were a luminous, blood-red with slit pupils too. He rounded on Pumpkin like a Wolf on a rabbit. “You think just because we let Țepeș’ little human blood-bag in, we can risk exposing us all to just anyone?” Demon snarled. “I thought you wanted to keep our kind a secret? Now you’re siding with him?”

“Hey!” Adi exclaimed, but Pickle’s lip curled and they turned to her.

“He has got a point, Adi, though the blood-bag comment was way out of line,” Pickle said. “We have to be careful, but —”

“This is different,” Pumpkin interjected. “Ok? I’ve never been in love before, and I love —”

“No. It’s not fucking ok! This is the one place we get to be who we are,” Demon countered, his deep voice cracking as he clearly fought off tears. He sounded afraid and upset in a way that went right to your heart. “This is the one place where we can be safe, Cal, and you’re jeopardising it for all of us. And if we start letting humans in, if our secret gets out —”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Pickle said faintly, staring straight at you watching the argument unfold, stunned. They were arguing because of you. Because Pumpkin had taken a liking to you — in fact, he’d just said he loved you…

A pair of gold eyes and a pair of scarlet eyes stared at you, while Adi stood there hugging herself and looking hurt and unsure, and Pumpkin was standing stock still with his black helmet still on but you knew he was looking at you too. Was he going to defend you, or discard you and stick with his friends? They weren’t human. None of them was human. Demon’s eyes were blaring a violent red and he had horns growing out of his black hairline and curling back over his head, and there was a watercolour patch of red creeping over his golden tan as if he was losing control of his form. And Pickle was apparently some kind of goblin?

“You’re a Dullahan,” you said quietly, looking at Pumpkin. “A Fae.”

“You know?” Demon hissed, taking half a step towards you. “How the fuck do you know?” and then he shoved Pumpkin back with a hand at each shoulder. “You’ve taken your helmet off already? Did you disclose your head’s location while you were at it?”

Pumpkin shook his head vehemently but then he lifted his shiny, black helmet off in what looked like an act of defiance to Demon.

In the void where his head should have been there was a swirl of bluish-green smoke emanating from the stump of his neck, like the aurora in the night sky, and his skin was a dark, slate-blue colour. Your mind struggled to accept what you were seeing, but with the additional evidence of Pickle’s green skin and Demon’s horns, you knew it all had to be true.

Walking closer, as if moving through a dream, you ignored Demon’s constant, caged-animal growl, but you did jump when the door flew open and Țepeș burst in. He strode straight over to Adi and wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders, tugging her close and putting himself between her and the others. He cocked his head in an impatiently curious manner and Adi answered his silent demand.

“Demon’s laying into Pumpkin about flirting with a human while hiding what he is,” Adrianne said, glaring flatly at Demon. “And he called me your blood-bag,” she added.

Țepeș’ fists curled, leather creaking, and he took a long, slow inhale, as though he was trying very hard not to lose control and launch himself at Demon.

Before anything else could happen, someone clapped their hands abruptly from the side of the shop where the till and the bikes were arrayed, and you all jumped.

Hank was standing there and his eyes were glowing golden. “This family is built on trust,” he said in a low, gravelly bass, and you saw that his canines were chunkier and longer than they usually were, and his hair seemed thicker and fuller, his beard a little bushier around the chops. “And if we welcome each other into it, we must be prepared to trust each other’s judgement.”

“We’re just a little research project!” Demon said, rounding on you. “Adi told you what we are, didn’t she, so you thought you’d come and study us like a science experiment?”

You were still staring at Pumpkin’s empty collar and wondering in an odd, detached kind of way where it would be considered polite for you to look now — did you look at the point where his eyes would be if he had a head, or did you look at his chest? Only a second or two later did Demon’s words filter through and you blinked. “What?”

“You’re writing a fucking book about us! How does that count as trustworthy?”

“I’m not — It’s not about you,” you shot back. “The book isn’t about you. The protagonist is dating a vampire who’s in a biker gang, but… Adi didn’t tell me anything at all about you. I didn’t know you weren’t human until… until I overheard you accusing Pumpkin a few weeks ago. You said something about not having a head under his helmet, and you called him a Dullahan.” You swallowed thickly and watched the shock filter through everyone’s expressions at your words. “At first I thought you were saying his name, but then I realised you said ‘Dullahan’, not ‘Callahan’, and because I’ve looked into supernatural stuff, I put two and two together. I’ve known for weeks,” you said, chest heaving as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure while you finished your defence. “I could have said something, or I could have just not come back, but I trusted you guys.” Tears finally blurred your vision. “You treated me like family. Why would I betray you?”

Pumpkin moved first.

He strode across he space, dropping his helmet on the floor with a loud crack that would have made anyone who needed a helmet to protect their head wince, but you figured his was purely for decoration and disguise anyway. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you close to his body. His arms almost lifted you off the ground and he cradled your head in one hand while his left arm curled around your waist and squeezed you so tight you gave a little wheeze.

His voice came from nowhere in particular, just like it did when he had the helmet on, and he said, “You are family. And I love you. If I have to leave this one to be with you, I will.”

Your heart stopped for a moment before you hugged him back, desperately. “Don’t. Not for me.”

He only hugged you harder.

From somewhere off to your left, Hank gave a low, rumbling growl and then muttered, “Kids. Honestly.” Then a little louder, he said, “Demon, go and cool off somewhere. Țepeș, for God’s sake, stand down, and Pickle, go and put the fucking kettle on. I need a cup of tea with half a bottle of whisky in it after all this drama.”

Pumpkin drew back at last, and you looked up at the haze of blue-green smoke that seemed to swirl upwards in a constant stream, like a recently extinguished candle. “How can you see me?” you asked. And then, with a little more alarm in your tone, you yelped, “Wait, how can you see where you’re driving?”

He laughed and leaned in close enough that the aurora-light swirled across your vision and caressed your face with a feather light breath, and you shivered. “Magic,” he whispered.

Demon hadn’t gone anywhere, and was regarding you with a more level gaze. His eyes were still red though. “You knew?” he said. “All this time?”

“Yeah,” you croaked as you refocused your eyes from the magic of the Dullahan’s body to Demon’s very much corporeal body. “I mean, I suspected.”

He sighed, still staring you down. Pumpkin stepped a little in front of you, much as Țepeș had for Adi, but Demon shook his head. He worked his jaw for a second and then slowly held out his right hand. His skin was red instead of the golden tan it had been, and his nails were black and claw-like, but the gesture was one of reconciliation all the same. “Welcome to the family, I guess,” he muttered hoarsely.

You smiled faintly, and Pumpkin took your left hand in a show of solidarity, sliding his gloved fingers around yours while you briefly shook Demon’s hand. “I really didn’t know what you guys were when you said I could come and hang out with you, I swear.”

“I know,” Demon bit out. “I can taste a lie, and you’re telling the truth.”

With that, he stalked away and carefully slotted his helmet on over his horns. You realised that there were specially-tailored holes in the crown of it for the horns to fit through, but when it was on, some kind of glamour made it look like the horns were just attached to the surface of the helmet. Outside, he swung a leg over his Ducati and started it up, revving it and launching away amid a scream of tyres and over-worked engine.

“Give him time,” Pumpkin said as he looked down at you. In the swirl of the smoke at his neck you thought you could make out the features of a face for a moment, but you blinked and it vanished. “You’re family now though, so he won’t give you any more trouble.”

“He did just insult Adi pretty spectacularly,” you pointed out.

“And he’ll apologise to her,” Pumpkin said. Țepeș loomed threateningly beside Adi in silent agreement. “For now, you want to come for a ride with just me? Come back to my place maybe?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bet you have questions too…”

“You going to fact-check my novel for me?” you asked with a playful smile, and Pumpkin laughed. It felt right to hear his loud, giggly laughter filling the space again.

“You’d actually have to let me read it for that, love, and you said you didn’t like showing your work to anyone until it was done.”

“I could make an exception for you, I guess,” you admitted with a bashful smile.

With Pumpkin still holding your hand, you paused on your way out to check on Adi, who looked a little hurt but otherwise alright, and you promised to check in with her later. Țepeș handed Pumpkin his helmet, and you let yourself be led from the shop. Your helmet was still in your slightly numb fingers, never having put it down, so you slid it back on with shaky hands.

After climbing with familiar ease back up onto the pillion seat of Pumpkin’s orange KTM, you snaked your arms around his middle and squeezed.

“I’m sorry it all came out this way,” Pumpkin said before he started up his bike. “This was not how I planned to tell you. I had no idea how I was going to break it to you, but that… that wasn’t it. I know you hate surprises, and that was a big one.”

“Not all surprises are bad,” you admitted. “And this one turned out ok in the end. Come on. I want to find out how much I’ve got wrong about the Fae.”

Pumpkin guffawed, his laughter audible even after he’d started up his bike and pulled away.

Turns out, you’d quite a lot wrong about the Fae after all, but Pumpkin was only too happy to put you right over pizza and a movie on his sofa that evening.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

Do you want to see the other members of the group? Remember you can find out more about them here in this early post if you're curious. Tepes already has a love interest, and Ninja the mimic is claimed too, but if you're curious, lemme know!

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[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Coming to ya’ll once again with yet another Jake fic that’s just self-indulgent smut. Inspired by the lovely (read: horny) conversations that I had with my Jake lane besties yesterday. Blame them, not me. This fic is also inspired by the Gibson TV interview that Jake did a while ago because of this post from @indigofallingsky

If you haven't seen the interview, you can watch it here.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, swearing, jake being a huge flirt, oral (f receiving), fingering, spanking, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (ik it's bad I just have a problem), squirting, softdom jakey, semi public sex, sir kink, lil bit of spit play maybe? and a shit ton of dirty talk. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5293

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You’re nervous, to say the least. And more than that, you’re frustrated because you’re so nervous. Being a photographer, it’s literally your job to be around famous people – and you pride yourself on never getting starstruck or anxious. You’d discovered quickly that most of the celebrities you interacted with were assholes anyway, and the few that weren’t assholes had either been boring or just plain weird. You’d stopped giving a damn years ago. 

But now, as you stood there waiting to introduce yourself to the man you would be photographing, you couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as you watched him. You’d heard of him and his band before. You loved their music and you’d even been thinking of buying tickets to one of their upcoming shows if you could manage to get the time off from work. You knew what he looked like, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him in person. He was gorgeous – sinfully so. You couldn’t help but stare as he walked around the room, introducing himself to everyone that he would be working with for his interview. 

The first thing you noticed was his hair; it was messy but beautiful, like someone had run their fingers through it haphazardly before he showed up. It was a gorgeous brown – almost copper when the light reflected on it. It looked especially gorgeous in contrast against his navy blue suit. And Jesus, did that suit fit him so well. He wasn’t a very tall man, but his entire body looked strong – solid. His thighs filled out those suit pants in a way that should be illegal. And his face… you could stare at it for hours. Plush lips, a perfect set of white teeth, and brown eyes that reminded you of bourbon. And of course he would be a fucking guitarist. 

When he finally made it to you, you had to fight to keep your voice steady and your eyes on his. 

“I’m Jake.” He said, giving you a dazzling smile as he extended his hand towards yours to shake. You took it, praying that he didn’t feel the slight tremor in them. 

“I’m Y/n. I’m going to be your photographer today.”

“Hi, Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The sound of your name from his mouth made your knees weak and you mentally rolled your eyes at yourself. “ Do you work for Gibson?”

You nodded. 

“Yep! Have for a few years now. All I’m going to be doing today is taking a few candid shots of you while you play and then we’ll do some actual posed shots afterwards” You gave him your best attempt at a professional smile. 

“Well, I’m lucky to have such a gorgeous woman taking my picture.” 

Your jaw dropped as he walked away from you, calm and collected after saying such a thing to you. Your eyes followed his retreating form as he went to take a seat on the little stool in front of the camera. He turned over his shoulder and locked eyes with you. He winked and you could feel the blush as it overtook your face. You dropped his gaze quickly. 

You took a seat on another stool by the wall. You wanted to listen to him before you took him over to take pictures. 

“Whenever you're ready, Mr. Kiszka. I’ll be asking you questions, but we’ll cut me from the final so it will be just you speaking.” The director, David, explained to him. “Let’s start with your full name.”

“Full name?” Jake asked him, a half smile painting his pretty lips. “How long do you want me to-” he chuckled. “Jacob Thomas Kiszka, sir.” 

His eyes locked on yours as he said the word, and your lips parted yet again as he pinned you with his gaze. 

“I don’t know.” He laughed, eyes snapping back to the camera. You glanced around to see that no one else seemed to have noticed him looking at you. You let out a shaky breath, your nerves completely unraveling the longer you were in his presence. Get a grip, y/n. 

“And tell us what you play.” David asked, and you watched on the little monitor as the second camera angle zoomed out for a wider shot. 

“I play guitar for the band Greta Van Fleet.” He answered, and you marveled at the smooth sound of his voice. David continued to ask him questions and you couldn’t help but be impressed – Jake was clearly a master of his craft, and yet he didn’t come across as egotistical or too self-assured. His talent spoke for itself and your heart raced at the quiet confidence that the man exuded. He was a gorgeous balance of confidence and professionalism. 

Every so often though, Jake’s eyes would sweep to find you. They’d linger on you for only a moment, before finding the camera again. Each glance was so fleeting you almost felt like you were imagining it – wishful thinking, and all that. But it kept happening; enough for you to believe that it had to be on purpose. You bit your lip, trying your best to remain focused on the job at hand and to stop the blush that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on your face.

Once David had asked all of his questions, he asked Jake to actually play his beautiful red Les Paul. Jake rose from his seat and strode quickly towards where his amps had been set up. He breezed by you, giving you another pointed stare from the corner of his eye. This time, you stared back – meeting the challenge in his eyes. He smirked. 

You watched him as he plugged in his guitar and strummed the strings once, checking their sound. He turned a few knobs on his instrument before strumming the strings again, this time seemingly satisfied. 

“Anything in particular you want me to play?” He asked, directing his gaze towards David. 

“Nope. Just whatever you would like to, really.”

Jake nodded once before beginning to play. The sound he coaxed from the instrument was beautiful, each note crisp and clean and oozing with sex appeal. His quiet demeanor melted away to reveal a man who was a master at what he was doing. You stared as his fingers danced across the strings and frets, effortlessly quick as he played. His face was focused, lost in his own world. 

Your cheeks blazed as you felt wetness seep into your panties as you watched him. Your breathing picked up and you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you watched toss his head back and close his eyes. You could only stare as he rocked his hips into his guitar in time to the beat of the song he was playing. You’d never been this affected by anyone in your entire life. 

Your core ached and you clenched your thighs together. Jake’s gaze shifted to meet yours at the movement, and his eyes practically sparkled as his eyes drank in your form. There was no hiding your arousal from him. You trained your eyes on your shoes, unwilling to meet his eyes. He tore his stare away from you and retreated back into guitar world. All you could do was sit there in agony as your lust for him grew by the second. 

Finally, he finished and David walked over to him and clapped him on the back. 

“That was great, Mr. Kiskza. Excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jake smiled, unplugging his guitar from the amp. 

“I’ll be turning you over to our photographer now, Mr. Kiszka. She’ll take good care of you.” 

You wanted to shrivel up and die as David said the words but you just plastered your work smile onto your face and rose from your seat. 

“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.” 

You led him into the little photo room off to the side of the main studio. It was a small space – adorned only with a backdrop on one side of the room and your equipment on the other side. One singular wooden stool had been placed in front of the backdrop. You walked over to the lights and switched them on. 

“Just have a seat right there.” You told him and he complied without a word. You positioned yourself across from him, camera in hand. You peered through the lens, adjusting the viewfinder and fiddling with the settings until you found what you liked. 

“Alright, Mr. Kiszka. Let’s just start with you playing for a bit.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You prided yourself for only letting your eyes widen for a brief moment before you schooled your expression. 

He began to play a soft tune and you walked around towards the left side of him, snapping shots as he played. The lights behind him from that angle created almost a halo around his head and brought out the red in his hair. 

“Good. That looks good. You can stop playing now.” You walked back in front of him. This was easy – slipping into work mode in order to distract yourself from the sinful thoughts that had been plaguing your mind since he walked in. “Now look up to your left for me.”

“Like this?” He asked, turning his head. 

“Chin out a little bit for me.”  He followed your direction. 

“Good. Now turn your body towards the door.” He swiveled on the stool. “Cross your left leg over your right and hold the body of your guitar in your lap.” He situated himself just as you explained. “Perfect. Now turn your head slightly to look at me."

The look he gave you was domination incarnate, his eyebrow raised just slightly, his eyes holding a challenge in them, and his plush lips just barely parted. You swallowed thickly as you took the picture.

“O-okay, now legs apart for me. Right hand in your lap. Hold the guitar in your left.” 

“How do you want me to hold it?” He asked, giving you a smirk. You bit your lip.  

“Prop it against your thigh.” 

He furrowed his brows at you. You sighed and walked over to him. You nudged one of his feet out further with your own and you did your best to ignore the way the muscles of his thighs strained against the fabric of his pants. You ignored his stare as you walked around him, assessing the position. Slowly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, turning his torso to face the opposite wall. You could feel the warmth of him through his suit.

“May I?” You asked him, gesturing towards where he was holding his guitar. 

“You may.” His voice was pitched lower, husky and smooth as whiskey. 

You reached out and carefully took hold of his guitar, situating it so that it rested against his thigh at an angle. 

“Take your left hand and hold right at the base” Your cheeks flamed as you realized the way your words sounded – the double meaning not lost on him either. He gave you a shit eating grin.

“You're good at this.” He said, voice nearly a whisper and dripping with… something, you just weren’t sure what. 

You huffed a breath as he rested his hand against the body of the guitar, right where you’d told him to. Mustering all the confidence you had, you met his stare. “Thank you. Sir.” The grin that overtook his face was downright sinful but you ignored it as you walked back over to the center of the room to take the shot. “Look at me.”

“Last one. Would you mind setting the stool off to the side for me?” 

“Of course.”  He said, voice saccharine and eyes glittering. He placed the stool by the wall. 

“I want you to face that way.” You jerked your head towards the right. “Hold it in your right hand, down by your side.” 

He complied. 

“This good?” 

You cocked your head to the side, eyeing his position. 

“Step your left leg forward just a bit.” That looked better. “Now look to your right, over my shoulder. Chin up. Perfect."

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you snapped the final picture. 

“Alright, I think I’m finished here. Thank you, Mr. Kiszka. You’re free to go.” You hated the feeling of disappointment that took place in your gut. 

“Shame. I was enjoying myself.” 

“You like posing all pretty for pictures?” 

“You think I’m pretty?”

Neither of you moved for a long moment. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop and your breathing was embarrassingly heavy. Every line in his body was drawn tight, like he was ready to spring into action at any given moment. The look in his eye was dangerous – threatening even. 

Finally daring to break the spell, you turned around and switched the camera off. 

“It was a pleasure working with you, sir.” 

He simply hummed and exited the room quickly, not even glancing back once. 

You released the tension that you’d been holding in your shoulders and let out a shaky breath. You could hear him in the other room saying thank yous and goodbyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back out there. As much as you wanted him, you couldn’t put your job at risk like that… and anyways, the longer you thought about it, the more you became convinced that he had just been messing with you – harmless flirting since he’d obviously caught on to your attraction to him. You shook your head at yourself and cringed – you couldn’t believe you’d been as forward as you had with him. Sure, he’d most definitely started it, but you’d allowed your self control to fly out the window. Damn you, Jake Kiszka, you thought as you began to pack up the equipment. 

Once you were finished, you grabbed your purse and headed for the door. There were still several people there, milling about as you passed through. David was off in the corner, speaking to one of the sound guys. 

“Am I done for the day, David?” You called to him, stopping just by the door. 

“I release you from your duties.” He said, giving you a kind smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow.” You waved and exited the filming room. 

You’d made it almost to the end of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat. You spun around quickly, startled at the noise. 

“Woah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You knew that damn voice. Jake emerged from one of the doorways, a grin on his face – the same one he’d been giving you all afternoon. 

“What are you still doing here?” You asked him, clutching your purse tighter to your chest. He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in nothing but a black button down. He’d untucked it and unbuttoned all of the buttons except for a few at the bottom. His necklace glittered where it rested against the tan skin of his chest. His guitar case was nowhere to be seen.  

“Waiting for you.” He said simply, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Me?” You couldn’t help but ask, suddenly afraid – despite the fact that he’d been openly flirting with you for the better part of two hours.

“Forgive me for assuming,” he said as he stepped towards you, caging you into the wall with his body, “but I could see it all over you in there. You want me. I want you. Figured we could do something about it.” 

You swallowed, brain working a mile a minute as you processed his words. There was no lie. You wanted him – and apparently he wanted you too. And doing something about it was sounding better and better by the second. 

“What did you have in mind?” You finally asked, voice coming out far more confident than you felt. 

“Oh, lots of things.” He said, voice low. “Been thinking about all the possibilities since the moment I saw you.” 

“There��s a dressing room down the hall.” You said quietly, nodding your head in that direction. “Locks from the inside.” 

“Oh?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “Can’t wait long enough to go somewhere else, huh?”

You flushed. 

“No, sir.” 

His eyes blazed at your words. Fast as lightning, his hand shot out to grip your bicep tightly and he all but dragged you down the hall. You pointed to the door to the dressing room and he ripped it open. You stumbled through the doorway, dropping your purse to the floor. He kicked the door shut and locked it and then he was on you – forearm pressed to your chest to back you into the wall. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his breath on you as he spoke. 

“I’d like to kiss you now.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

He crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth. You submitted to him willingly, allowing him to lick into your mouth with no resistance. He tasted like cigarette smoke and somehow that turned you on even more, and you whimpered quietly into his mouth. His palms settled on your waist in a way that you could only describe as possessive, and he dug his fingers into your flesh as he kissed you. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, earning a groan from him. 

He pulled away, a string of spit connected your mouths as he drew back to look at you. You thought he looked gorgeous earlier, but that was nothing compared to how he looked now; his hair was messier and his cheeks were flushed, and his plush lips were swollen and slick with spit. He looked so fucking pretty. 

“You taste just as good as I imagined.” He said darkly. “Wanna taste the rest of you.” 

Without warning, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. He slotted his thigh between your legs and you moaned at the pressure. You rocked your hips forward on him, desperate for any type of friction on your throbbing pussy. 

“Please, Jake.” You whined as he nipped at your ear. 

He pulled away from you sharply. 

“You call me Jacob or you call me sir, understood?” 

You nodded. 

“Words.” He urged, eyes ablaze with lust. 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

He attached his lips to yours again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to jump up. You did, wrapping your legs around his waist as he gripped your ass with both hands, walking the two of you over to the vanity in the corner. He placed you gently onto the counter.

“Can I taste you, sweet girl?” He asked, lowering himself down to kneel on the floor so that he was eye level with your dripping cunt. 

“Yes, Jacob.” You whined. 

You toed your heels off, allowing him to slide your skirt off of you, tossing it impatiently somewhere in the room. He nudged your knees apart, splaying his palms on your thighs to keep you steady. He eyed the wetness leaking through the cotton of your panties and chuckled.

“You’re fucking soaked. Look at you.” He said, nuzzling his nose against you and inhaling deeply. 

“Please.” You begged, pussy throbbing with your need for him. 

“Please what?” 

“Please. Need you. Need your tongue.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a grin. “Where do you need it?” 

You whined and rocked your hips towards him. 

“Jake-Jacob.” You corrected yourself. “Need your tongue on my clit. Please, sir.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He looped two fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled – effectively ripping the thin fabric. He wadded your ruined panties up and slipped them into his pocket. 

“For safekeeping.” He said, before licking a stripe up your weeping center. 

“Oh, fuck!” You yelled, threading your fingers through his hair. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter as you threw your head back. He swirled his tongue around your swollen clit, suckling on it in a way that was almost too much. You cried out with each movement, his tongue playing you like that damn harmonica you'd seen him play on stage.

Without warning, he plunged his tongue into you, and he pressed his thumb to your clit. His other hand gripped your thigh, squeezing so tightly you were sure you would have bruises tomorrow. 

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, sweet girl. I want to taste it so bad.” He said into your heat, and you moaned loudly. He increased the speed of his thumb on your clit, and his tongue plunged in and out of you mercilessly, and it didn’t take long before you felt that familiar coil beginning to tighten in your belly. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You mumbled out, legs beginning to tremble. 

“Give it to me.” 

It was like your body was waiting for his permission. No sooner had he spoken the words, your orgasm was tearing through you. Your entire body shook as you came, and you called out his name as he kept working you through it, prolonging your pleasure. 

Jake rose from between your legs and you moaned at the sight of his face covered in your juices. He swiped a finger through your folds to collect your release and then wrapped his fingers around it, groaning at the taste of you. 

“You taste sweeter than fucking candy.”

“Kiss me.” You demanded, and you were embarrassed at the blatant neediness in your voice, but it melted away quickly as he met your demand. You could feel him, hard as a rock in his pants. You reached up with shaky fingers and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. When they were all unbuttoned, you slid the shirt off his shoulders and your eyes wandered over the expanse of skin, tan and glistening with sweat. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You whispered, sliding your palms across his chest and up to squeeze his broad shoulders. 

“So are you, sweet girl. Slide back for me.”

You did as he asked, scooching back on the counter until your back pressed into the cold mirror of the vanity. 

“Take off your top.” He said, voice suddenly hard and demanding. 

You gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off, revealing the lacey bra you had on underneath. 

“Shit.” He said, eying your breasts through the fabric. He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out for him to admire. Wordlessly, he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, biting at the hard nub. You moaned at the sensation. 

“You like that? Like when I bite these pretty nipples.” 

“Yes.” You cried, and he bit down harder – the sharp pain serving as a warning. “Yes sir.” You corrected, tossing your head back. 

Suddenly, you felt one of his talented fingers slipping into you and you whined loudly. 

“Jacob!”

“Yes, sweet girl?” He asked, but you had nothing to say in return. You opened your mouth to ask for more, but all that escaped you was a loud moan. He caressed your walls with his fingers, eyes affixed to your face as he watched you surrender to the pleasure. 

“You look so pretty like this, y/n. All needy. Your cunt is dripping.”

“All for you.” You told him, toes curling in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them inside of you in the most delicious way. 

“God, look at you.” He said, leaning on his free arm as the other fucked into you mercilessly. “Never seen a prettier sight.” 

You whined, and the sound came out as almost a squeak. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself hurdling quickly into a second orgasm. 

“Already?” He asked you, cockiness dripping from his words. You clenched around his fingers, his tone spurring you on even more. “My needy little girl gonna come again for me? So soon?” 

“Yes, please sir, let me cum. Please!” 

“That’s it, baby. You sound better than my guitar. Cum on my fingers. Come on.” 

Your mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ as you came again, this one even more powerful than the first. 

“Shit! Fuck!” 

“Careful, y/n. Don’t wanna be too loud. Someone might come in here, just to see your pretty cunt squeezing my fingers.” 

You’d never been one for dirty talk, but Jake was making it work. Something about his smooth voice saying such filthy things was driving you wild. 

“Jacob, I need you to fuck me. Right now.” 

“Oh you do, huh? Little kitten desperate for my cock?”

All you could do was whine in answer, brain cloudy after two orgasms. 

“Mmm. Wanna feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me.” He said, pulling his fingers from you with an obscene squelch. He took your hand in his and pressed it to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “See what you do to me? Jesus, I’ve never been so hard.”

“Fuck me. Need it so bad.”

“Patience baby.” He laughed. “Lemme get a condom. I’ve got one in my wallet.” 

You grabbed his wrist in your hand tightly, stopping him from reaching into his pocket. 

“I’m on birth control. And I’m clean. I want to feel you, sir. Please.” 

“Fuck.” He said through gritted teeth, eyes so dark they looked black. “Dirty girl, aren’t you?” 

You watched, mouth watering as he unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down so that they pooled around his ankles, and you moaned seeing that he didn’t have any underwear on. 

His cock was big – bigger than you’d been expecting. The head was pink and weeping with precum where it curved upward to rest against his soft stomach. He was a sight to behold. 

He brought his hand up to rest underneath your chin, fingers just barely grazing your skin.

"Spit."

You did as he commanded, allowing your saliva to drop from your mouth into his waiting palm. He groaned and wrapped his hand around his base, your spit mixing with his precum to make the perfect lubrication

“Can I taste you, sir?” You asked him, giving him your best doe eyes. 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said, one hand pumping himself slowly as the other caressed your jaw. “As much as I’d love that, I wouldn’t last if you did. And I wanna cum in your sweet cunt.” 

“Next time?” The question slipped out without thought and your eyes widened at the implication. 

Jake smiled, wide and dazzling. 

“Next time, baby.”

He pumped himself a few more times, using his thumb to smear his precum over his head. Finally, he nudged the blunt head of his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness. 

“You ready for my cock, baby girl? Ready for me to split you open?” 

“God, yes. Please.”

He gripped your hips in his strong hands and pulled you to the edge of the counter, allowing for your feet to touch the floor. 

“Turn around and bend over, y/n. I want you to watch in the mirror while I fuck you.” 

You moaned and did as he asked, pressing your ass back into him as you bent over the counter. You rested your forearms on the counter, and watched in the mirror as Jake slipped into you. Your pussy throbbed as you watched his mouth fall open – his brows clenched together and a breathy moan fell from his lips. The stretch of him was overwhelming as he pressed into you, slowly sinking into the hilt. He groaned in your ear as he finally bottomed out and you dropped your head back towards him. He pressed wet kisses to your neck as he stilled, allowing you time to adjust to his size.  

“Jesus, you’re so tight wrapped around me. Smooth as fucking velvet.” He said, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“Move, Jakey. Please move.”

“‘Jakey,’ huh?” He chuckled, beginning to slowly rock his hips into you. “I like that.”

He quickened his pace, pistoning in and out of you. You watched in the mirror as his face fell slack with pleasure and sweat dripped down his temples and neck. You pushed back into him with each thrust, desperate and needy for him. 

“You want me to go harder? You sure you can take it, pretty girl? You’ve given me two already… think you can give me another one?”

You moaned loudly, high pitched and pornographic, at his words. 

“I asked you a question.” He ground out through clenched teeth, wrapping his left arm around your waist  to pull you into him. His other hand delivered a hard slap to the side of your ass. 

“Fuck! Yes! Harder, sir!” You cried, the sting of the slap only adding to your pleasure. 

“God, you feel like a fucking dream.” He groaned, slamming into you at an impressive speed. The sound of his hips slapping against you was loud, and the wet sounds coming from in between the two of you were lewd and unmistakable. If anyone walked by the door, there would be no doubt about what was going on in here. He slapped your ass again, this time much harder, and you wailed at the extra pleasure the sting gave you. 

“Fuck, y/n, I’m close.” 

You have no idea what comes over you as he says that in your ear, but you’re opening your mouth to say the words before your brain has time to process it. 

“Choke me, Jacob. Fuck, I want you to choke me.”

“Oh, fuck.” He practically whined, wrapping his right hand around your throat. He squeezed lightly as he pounded into you. 

“Harder, Jakey. Harder. Please.” You wailed, and his fingers tighten around your throat. Your head began to swim and your vision wavered as your climax finally starts to build up again. It’s overwhelming, a feeling like something is trying to claw its way out of you. 

“I’m gonna cum.” You wheezed out, and Jake moaned nto your ear. 

“Give it to me. Cum on my cock.”

Jake released his hold on your throat and finally, your orgasm overtook you. Your vision whited out and your whole body began to shake madly. You screamed Jake’s name as you cum and distantly you hear him as he reaches his own climax. He’s moaning curses into your damp skin but it’s like you’re in another plane of existence. Your orgasm seems to go on forever as you clench around Jake – drawing every drop of cum he has in him. You've never had an orgasm last the way that one just did.

He stilled in you, and the both of you sit there, breathing heavily. 

“Y/n…” Jake says, voice wrecked and shaky. “You just- have you ever done that before?”

“Done what?” You slurred, brain covered in a fog. 

“You fucking squirted. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You shook your head. 

“No. Not done that before.”

Jake slipped out of you carefully, the both of you hissing at the feeling. You swayed where you were bent over the counter and Jake placed a steadying hand on your back. 

“You okay?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yeah, fuck. I’m great. Just need to sit down.” 

Jake grabbed his shirt and placed it on the floor before helping you ease down onto it. 

“I’ve never cum that hard in my life.” You told him, a sleepy smile gracing your lips. He gave you a matching one in return. He looked so pretty looking at you like that – hair a mess, skin slick with sweat. He looked completely fucked out. 

“Me neither. Holy shit.” 

You giggled. 

“Come back to my apartment with me.” He said, pulling his pants back up and buttoning them. 

“Jake I don’t think I’m gonna be able to go again for at least a week.” You told him, letting your head fall back to rest on the wall. 

“No, I’m going to make you dinner and draw you a bath. And then I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you. Come on.” He helped you to your feet. 

He grabbed his shirt off the floor and gathered your clothes  up as well, handing them to you. 

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” You giggled. “God, I’m probably going to get fired. There’s no way none of them heard that.” 

“Good.” Jake said, slipping his shirt on over his shoulders. “Now they know who you belong to.”

“Oh I belong to you now?” You jokingly challenged, carefully stepping back into your skirt and wincing. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake said with a smirk. He looked like sin incarnate. “I’m never letting you go.” 

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[luna-rainbow]

Thanks for your answer for the last ask.

What is wrong with the writers of the new MCU material? Do they just hate Bucky, especially the writer of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier (he's NOT the Winter Soldier anymore!)? Did Bucky kick their cat or something? This hatred and victim blaming is not justified! "Oh Bucky's just a cray-cray psycho killing machine with cool metal arm but probably belongs in a padded cell. Lol he says he had no choice such a lame excuse..."

Soo…I don’t know if people still remember the rumours from back in 2021 and I don’t know how much of it is true, but my guess at it is this: there were supposed to be two main writers on the series. Spellman was supposed to take Sam’s story, while the other guy wrote Bucky’s story. For whatever reason, the other guy quit before he finished, and didn’t give the writing team enough time to put things together.

From a story craft point of view, Bucky’s story in TFATWS reeks of first-draft-ism. It’s a scattered plot of events that don’t quite string together, and a self-contradictory characterisation that hasn’t yet been smoothed over (but was made a little more believable by Sebastian’s efforts). You can tell some central character themes had been planted in the first draft — the PTSD, the guilt, the messy way he’s trying to relearn how to interact with people (Yori, Sam and later the Wakandans), the struggle with breaking free of his past. These were all strong, interesting character beats for Bucky to work through, and it honestly could have been a good story. And I think that’s when the original writer bailed.

When Spellman picked up this draft, he was pressed for time, he hadn’t watched CATWS and he never thought he’d needed to know about Bucky’s story, so he reads TheMovieSpoiler summary of the movie and tries to piece the rest of the story together. But Bucky’s not his priority nor his interest. There’s already beats of the story that were planned and have to be there for IP reasons. So beyond what was already in the first draft as mentioned above, Bucky is made to be the fall guy to make the rest of the plot happen. Zemo’s release — well we can’t make Sam help break out the criminal that killed an African king so we’ll make Bucky do it, who cares if it makes no sense for his character. The counselling session — the show’s few moments of levity, doesn’t matter that it makes no sense but hey, forced homoeroticism is hilarious, isn’t it? The Wakandan three-way fight — I may be remembering this wrong but I think Skogland said it was one of the first scenes that she had planned for. That fight had to happen, and again Bucky was made to provoke the Wakandans to the point Seb had to step in and say, almost literally, “he would not fucking say that” to make them wind back the animosity between Bucky and Ayo. Sam’s suit — oh no we can’t have Sam asking for it himself that would be too egocentric, we also can’t have Wakandans offering because well, not like the plot actually made Sam a strong ally for Wakanda, so we get Bucky asking for Sam’s suit to be made minutes after he fixes his mistake of releasing Zemo. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense if it’s Bucky doing it, cos I really think by this stage Spellman didn’t give a shit about a character that wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility in the first place. It’s like when you’re doing group project and your teammate bails on you, you’re gonna do just enough to get that pass but you ain’t putting in the effort for a distinction cos just looking at the unfinished work is pissing you off. So then Bucky also becomes the token white male who pushes all the wrong buttons during the few token racism scenes cos we gotta make Walker have some redeemable qualities and he’s already a dick so we can’t make him racist too.

So instead of having a thoughtful story about a veteran trying to grapple with his guilt and PTSD and lack of agency and making some mistakes along the way, you get a weird disjointed plot of some guy…with some bad dreams…who randomly does things for no good personal reason…who gets made the butt of the joke for the stuff he’s experienced cos he’s got a metal arm and super soldier serum how hard could it have been he just needs to go and apologise for killing people while simultaneously having multiple poignant scenes portraying his lack of agency.

Every writer who tells you “a hero is only as interesting as the villain” just secretly wants to write a simpable villain. And when that writer isn’t very skilled, you get the disaster of TFATWS where a lot of effort is spent on making Zemo funny and personable, and Walker nuanced and sympathetic, instead of making either of the titular heroes funny or personable or nuanced or sympathetic. And yeah, I really don’t think Spellman ever cared enough about Bucky to want to make him sympathetic…or a hero. Remember when he said Bucky pulling open the van door was the first time Bucky has ever been a hero? Fuck right off with that.