#i almost exclusively wear jeans to work

[themirokai]

I’m sorry if I am insane today. I am wearing a dress without pockets, you see, and that is not a Natural Human Condition.

[suguann]

an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be. 

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs. 

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone. 

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex. 

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house. 

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused. 

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you. 

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

[cinematicreid]

out the door

the one where Spencer helps reader pack for a trip.

wc 1003

tags + the rundown: fem!reader, bau!reader, fluff, spencer and reader are besties but ofc flirty, cute banter, i want him so bad etc.

a/n: hi tumblr hi fellow spencer reid stans hiiii! i think about this man so much in my head it was time to get him out of my notes app and onto a blog. inbox is open, let’s chat. all feedback welcome just pls be nice! enjoy!

~

“Spencer, be more helpful,” you beg as you stuff your toothpaste into an almost-full toiletry bag while frantically looking for your chapstick.

“I told you this was going to happen,” he says with a huff of resignation. He begins to fold the tiny, but mighty (i.e., messy) pile of clothes on your bed, organizing them neatly in your duffle bag.

To be fair, he was right. To also be fair, it had been a long week at the office, working through a stack of files that seemed never-ending. The days were long as they always were, and you had already fallen behind on quite a few household tasks, a rare habit of yours that was particularly prominent during weeks like these. Packing for your girls’ weekend had been the last thing on your mind.

Now here you were with a flight that was sure to leave without you if you didn’t kick it into high gear, and a somehow always right Spencer Reid ready to drive you to the airport, and you couldn’t find your damn chapstick.

“Well, if you knew this was going to happen you should have come even earlier.”

You make your way from your bathroom to your bedroom and toss your toiletry bag on the bed, nearly missing Spencer’s arm as he folds the last of your jeans. He chuckles at your remark before tucking the see-through bag neatly into the duffle.

“You know, I could have not offered my automobile services to you. I could have let you perish on the side of the road,” he teases.

You roll your eyes as you rummage through the drawers of your bedside table. Where the fuck did you put your chapstick?

“You’ve packed so many go-bags, you’d think you’d have this down by now,” he continues.

“My go-bag!”

You rush to the living room, targeting another one of the (too many) duffle bags you own on the couch. Most of its contents had been emptied into your laundry basket or returned to their rightful places except a few, and you race back to your room with your chapstick proudly brandished. Spencer shakes his head in amusement.

“How long will you be gone?” he asks, gently taking the tube from your fingers and securing it inside the front pocket of the bag, now zipped up and ready to board.

“Just the weekend,” you smile, already feeling your shoulders ease as the breath finds your lungs easier. You hated rushing. “I haven’t been back to Michigan in almost a year.”

His brow furrows. “We had a case there last month.”

“Yeah but, you know what I mean. I want to see my friends and visit the museums and enjoy the food, not profile a psycho.”

You grab your bag and start to sling it over your shoulder as you make your way to the front door. Spencer trails behind you, reaching for the strap before you can secure it and placing it over his own shoulder.

“We haven’t had a full weekend off in a while,” he says, and is that the faintest twinge of disappointment in his voice? “I didn’t know you were going to be out of town.”

You glance over at him, letting your eyes wander for a moment. Spencer on the weekends was a rare sight. His hair was extra fluffy; he’d had time to truly wash it in the shower instead of the rushed mornings you were used to when working a case. He was wearing his favorite cardigan that he never traveled with, the bottom two buttons left undone and the light brown of the wool bringing out the even lighter specks of brown in his eyes.

Of course, there was your favorite part: Those damn, adorable glasses that made their appearance once in a blue moon and almost exclusively on weekends when he felt too lazy to put in his contacts. Spencer on the weekends was all soft smiles and gentle laughs and, quite frankly, he was an absolute joy to be around.

You internally echo his disappointment that you’ll be a plane ride away instead of here with him, enjoying a new book store he’d found or convincing him to go window shopping with you.

You stop yourself before letting this daydream become too enticing. You could spend a million weekends with Spencer and never get bored, but you did miss your hometown, and your friends. You had a plane to catch.

“Sounds like someone already misses me,” you joke, returning your gaze ahead of you and grabbing your keys from the kitchen counter. “We see each other nearly every hour of every day. I honestly thought the sight of me repulsed you.”

“What? Of course not! I don’t find you repulsing. I was just…“ he begins to trail off ever so slightly, and there it is again. That tempting bubble of a daydream and what the weekend could have been starts creeping back into your apartment. You’d probably do anything to please Spencer in this moment.

Damn him.

Before you can burst it, for the sake of both of you and your not-so-cheap plane ticket, the piercing ringtone of the good doctor’s phone bursts it for you.

You stare at each other knowingly.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan, shutting your eyes and tossing your head back in defeat.

Spencer retrieves his phone from his back pocket, pursing his lips knowingly before answering it.

“Hey, Garcia… yeah… you don’t have to call her, she’s actually with me. We’ll be there soon.” He gives you an apologetic look as he hangs up.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, the previous moment fully vanished as you both slip back into work-mode. You let out an exaggerated, though you feel appropriate, sigh.

“At least you packed my go-bag for me,” you say in attempt to ease your own sadness about your now nonexistent weekend plans. “You should come over before all our cases.”

“Don’t let my generosity fool you.” Spencer nudges you toward the door with a comforting hand. “You’re packing mine when we get to my place.”

[seeminglydark]

A look-book and little break-down of Caro’s style and fashion Journey. I didn’t include their cheer uniform or GasCo uniform because those really didn’t influence their actual style much, other than the Varsity jacket and work jacket. I thought it would be fun to set it up almost like a magazine article and I’m in love with the results. I hope you enjoy it too. (The cover is my fave thing ever, just so you know.)

Here’s the Text:

Caro Greene, Cheerleader to Ghosthunter! An exclusive look at superstar Caro Greene’s style evolution. From femme to them!

The Teenage Years! Caro has been aware the high-femme style their parents chose for them was not the look they wanted for a long time, but didn’t know how to address it. Pairing their best friends tee-shirt over their Prom dress was the first step in figuring out their own personal style! From there, they tested out the route of borrowed too-big sweaters whenever they weren’t under the watchful eye of their family.

GasCo Era! Years of emotional neglect build until Caro chops off their hair, an asset more important to their parents than their happiness, and finds themself abruptly homeless, with nothing but some jeans, shirts and an oversized jacket belonging to their long-gone boyfriend. They get a job at the local gas station, and are gifted a new jacket that fits, with their new name on it, in their favorite color! More gender exploration leads them to a better haircut, and their first time trying a binder, and starting to not hate how they look.

Thrift stores, Sneakers, and T! Now in a new environment with supportive people at the GasCo, Caro discovers thrift stores and the tacky ‘80s aesthetic of their dreams. After years of other people controlling their body and looks, starting on low T is a big step in taking back control. They start wearing crop tops and sleeveless tees to show off new body hair, but also love chunky colored sweaters since they’re always cold. Sneakers go with everything, and when you’re short, the possibilities are endless in the kids shoes section.

Mil-Liminal! Caro’s podcast Mil-Liminal goes viral, and they are given the choice of staying faceless and anonymous, or taking the stage in live shows. They decide to do a face reveal, and that means choosing an iconic ‘look’ for their live performances. They choose their favorite color, GasCo Purple, and a jacket that is a blend of their varsity jacket and GasCo work jacket, two clothing pieces that always made them comfortable. They wear their trans identity on their sleeve, and top it off with the snapback look they donned years ago on their first venture ‘out’ as a teenager. The rest is history!

Current Caro! Which brings us to the present! There’s been some small changes, oversized sweaters and tees with a cosmic theme, which is new for the usually spookified Caro. They’re sporting white hair instead of their trademark blond, and have added a cross earring and a pendant to their Mil-Liminal uniform. A black snapback shows up as often as the purple one, and there’s a new bounce in their step, but perhaps they’ve just been indulging in too much coffee these days.

Caro Green is from my webcomics Seemingly Dark and Mil-Liminal, and podcast Mil-Liminal.

[tojipie]

Please serve us your best dilf toji headcanons I am begging

warnings: nsfw, exhibitionism, anal, alc n weed

────────────────────────

sfw -

will use little placeholder names for you but gets all flustered when you do it back. he’ll call you things like pretty girl, little girl, sweet girl, etc. but as soon as you start firing back he gets embarrassed

works construction so he exclusively likes to wear a simple black tee and baggy jeans. a lot of the pieces he owns have singe marks and paint stains because he can never remember to put his work clothes in the wash in time :( he likes the look of it though.

doesn’t care that he’s older, like at all. he has an almost sickening amount of confidence in himself and quite honestly loves having a pretty little sweetheart on his arm.

loves cheap beer. always has a couple 6 packs stacked in the garage, and will usually pull you into his lap when you come to bring him one. it happens so often that the two of you now have this inside joke where you bringing him a beer means you’re initiating sex.

little bit of a temper in public but is working on it. is no stranger to road rage or picking fights with other men in public places. he got the two of you banned from ihop after he called one of the managers a cunt 🫡

bad cook! just terrible. it’s literally comical how incapable he is of making the simplest meals. he lived almost exclusively off of takeout before he met you and is still adjusting to eating at home more.

likes to eat out of the pot with u :,) thinks it’s romantic and will use his spoon to feed u bites from time to time.

is the type of smoker to say “i’ll quit when i want to” (he’s not going to quit). he tried shifting over to weed to get the buzz he needs but it fucks with his head before work so he just went back to his cigarettes. prefers marlboro reds! will blow the smoke in your face just to make you mad.

let’s you cut his hair! he thinks you do a better job than a barber ever would. when he needs a trim he’ll touch-up his undercut with an electric razor and have you shorten his fringe for him. you think he looks so cute sitting at the kitchen table with a towel wrapped around his shoulders.

will do different things while he rubs your back just to see your little reactions. he’ll run his nails down your spine, trace shapes into your skin, and give you little pats just to see you melt off to sleep.

nsfw -

lives for a good blowjob, no matter the place. will ask to get sucked off in the living room, in the drivers seat, on his breaks when you visit him at work. literally no shame when it comes to having his dick in your mouth.

cums fast and cums a lot. pretty fast recovery time and can definitely go multiple rounds. his favorite place to finish is on your face and lower stomach 🫶

wants to do anal but doesn’t really know how to go about bringing it up. the idea first piqued his interest after a friend told him about him and his wife trying it. he’s definitely curious about how tight you’d be around him, and would love to see your little gape :( he’s a sick man

definitely an ass man! lots to do with it, it’s natural that it’d be a favorite of his. loves how easy marks take on the skin there and is likely to leave a couple hickeys while ur doing it.

favorite position is doggy. boring ik :( but it’s a classic to him! he feels most comfortable gripping onto the fat just above your hips and pulling you back into his cock. he’ll either have you face down with a hand to the back of your neck, or use your shoulder as leverage to keep you upright while he pounds into you.

might have a genuine exhibition kink. you cannot visit the airport without going at least a round in the single stall bathroom. if the two of you can find a room with a lock, he’s gonna ask to fuck in it. that’s just how it is and there’s no changing him. had his way with you once in the gym showers, you still don’t know how he successfully snuck you in and out of there.

big on both degradation and praise, he knows how to balance them out well, following every “fucking slut” up with a equally devastating “but you take cock like a champ no?

big dick 🫡 need i elaborate. he likes to press down on your tummy while he fucks you to try and see where his tip is, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader - Coworker AU

Content & Warnings: Coworker AU, Halloween Store AU, friends with benefits, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, friends to eventual lovers, free use, overstimulation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Free Use)

While working at a Halloween store, you make an agreement with your coworker, Kyle Garrick: free use of your body for covering shifts.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Another shift? I'm starting to think you're only working here for my cock."

"Kyle Garrick," you hiss, smacking his arm.

Laughing, Kyle grabs your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “The deal still stands.

"I'm fully aware of the deal," you mutter with a smile, removing your hand from his grasp.

"Any place. Any time."

"I know."

Kyle grins and aggressively clicks the end of his pen until you roll your eyes. "Just do it you big idiot," you mutter.

Putting pen to paper, Kyle scratches out your scheduled time and moves the shift elsewhere.

This time, he clicks the end of the pen once. "Behind the changing rooms."

"Now?"

Kyle tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk on his face. Of course, now. He doesn't mean later. He never means later.

Within five minutes, you're leaning over a stack of delivery boxes with Kyle deep inside you.

All around you is the overflow of popular items. Couples have been coming in exclusively to purchase Scream masks, and it seems that every child that walks in with their parents wants to be a superhero. You're surrounded by masks, fake weapons, and numerous packaged costumes for every age.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle every rush of air that threatens to escape your lungs. Kyle's muted grunts are slowly turning into groans.

"Fucking hell, love,” he mutters, his thrusts quicken pace. The boxes beneath you shake and shift. They'll topple over, taking you with them if he isn't careful. Kyle exhales, his hips grinding against yours, holding there as his cum floods your pussy.

This is the agreement. The arrangement.

When you need a shift moved or covered, Kyle will happily do it. But he has free use of your body whenever he wants and at any time.

Kyle gently thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into you.

"We need to go back," you groan, attempting to catch your breath. "There's probably an insane line at the register."

Kyle chuckles. "There wasn't a soul in the store when we came back here."

You glance over your shoulder and scowl. "How long have we been gone?"

With a brief squeeze of your ass, Kyle eases his softening cock from your body. His cum follows him.

As you stand to adjust your clothes, Kyle's arms embrace you.

He kisses the top of your head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

You groan and shove at him. "You're insufferable."

"But you like me," he teases as the two of you exit the small storage space, grabbing a box on the way out.

"On your knees."

You turn and almost scream.

Kyle is standing right behind you wearing one of those goddamn Scream masks. It's one of the red ones with horns.

"What are you doing? You scared me."

You're standing behind the counter at the very back of the store. The only customers are near the front, browsing and oblivious to your work in the back. Most don't even realize they can make a purchase back there.

"On your knees."

You blink. "The cameras, Kyle."

"They're off."

You cross your arms over your chest. "How did you—"

"I have my ways." He nods toward the floor. "On your knees."

You promptly fall. The counter is high enough to obscure at a distance but not if someone walks directly up to it. But you made an agreement with Kyle. If he tells you to get on your knees, you do it.

You present your mouth, and Kyle reaches for the front of his jeans. He opens them up, and then you take him into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head, you suck and tease, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him all the way to the base.

Kyle starts to groan, and then clears his throat, head on a swivel as he watches the store. You keep at it, finding your own pleasure in the task of pleasing him. The mask certainly doesn't harm. You understand why it's so popular now.

One moment you're throating him, and the next you're pressed against the counter, Kyle quickly adjusting to lean forward, blocking any view of you. He pushes the mask up to reveal his face, grinning widely at whoever is standing there.

"How can I help you?" he asks, voice charming and smooth with zero indication that his cock is down your throat.

Inwardly grinning, you continue to suck him off. This is what he wanted after all. Why not give it to him?

"I'm looking for this," comes a woman's voice.

Kyle leans forward a bit like he's peering at a phone. "Those are in stock. Just over there."

"Over where?"

You take him down to the hilt and his hips jerk in response. "Front of the store. Left-hand side. Second row." He chokes on the last two words, barely getting them out.

You hear footsteps moving away, and then Kyle is glancing down at you, shaking his head softly.

"Swallow," he whispers. "Do it."

As he says it, his release hits your tongue. Relaxing your throat, you allow the cum to slide down as much as possible before you swallow the rest. When every drop is down your throat, he pops his cock from your mouth.

His pants are buttoned and back into place in seconds. You start to get up but his hand lands on your head, pushing you back down.

"Ready to check out?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you up front."

You watch him go from your spot on the floor. You wait a full minute before checking to make sure it's clear.

"I—I can't. Kyle. Please."

The customers are gone. The registers have been counted. The front doors are locked and all the lights are off. Except one. The one on the desk in the back office.

That lamp is on, casting a soft glow over your naked body. Kyle kneels between your spread legs. All you can see are his eyes. His mouth is busy with other things.

A swipe of his tongue and you're gone. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you moan loudly, fingers clinging to the edge of the desk. You're supposed to be in your car, driving home. Instead, Kyle is giving you your third orgasm.

"One more," he murmurs against your sex. "One more."

You can't do one more. You really can't.

There are a few second reprieve before Kyle returns to his work. Every limb is shaking, overstimulation thudding through you so hard it's bordering on pain. You finish quick and loud, screaming out into the tiny room.

Kyle is standing and sliding into you within a few brief moments. The old desk creaks under the sharp thrusting. Kyle has one hand on your inner thigh, keeping you wide while the other rests firmly next to your shoulder. He leans over you, panting just as hard as you are.

Kyle's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust. "Feel so good," he groans.

Pushing up onto one elbow, you reach out for him, hand grasping the back of his neck. Kyle grins as you tug, closing the distance. His lips meet yours and it is perfect bliss.

"Finish inside me,” you sigh. “I want to feel you."

Your little admission does something to him. Kyle's groan softens to a sound you've never heard from him before. He kisses you again, and there is deep possession in it.

The two of you might have an agreement. It's the same agreement you’ve had with him last year and the year before. In between the stores closure and opening, there are flirty texts and occasional fucks but nothing serious. Nothing that feels like...whatever the fuck this is.

With a loud groan, Kyle grinds his hips forward, sealing your bodies together. His lips part, and you dip your tongue inside to taste him. Together, your connected bodies feel as one. There is no beginning or end here. There is only simple knowledge of pleasure.

Kyle returns your kisses. Each softer than the last. His arms circle to your waist and then lift, bringing you to an upright position. Dragging you to the edge of the desk, Kyle keeps himself firmly inside you, as if unwilling to part just yet.

He goes in for another kiss. This one on your lips. The next, your cheek.

"Need another shift covered?" he asks.

His heat is nice. Comforting. "Not at the moment."

"Pity," he croons, seeking yet another.

This time it deepens, becoming hot and heavy all over again.

"We don't have to do this, Kyle."

He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"We could just...do this. We don't have to do all the other stuff."

"All the other stuff?" he grins.

You punch his shoulder and his smile only widens. "You interested in that, love? In me?" There is a hint of hope in his voice.

"What if I am?" you counter, matching his smile.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @spookyscaryspoon

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[bloodstainedsapphic]

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

From someone who only recently got into him. I could be wrong, since I can't trace back his roots much. Some of these are inspired by other writings, Marcus Lopez in Deadly Class, and my own bot usage.

I wrote this in about 5 minutes. Just a warning.

Mattheo is, of course, reserved around those he isn't close to. He tends to act cold, and will go as far to make himself seem threatening if he feels like it (whether that's actually true or not is your interpretation).

If he does something kind for someone without being asked, he prefers to let it go unmentioned. "Thanks for getting that for me." "Yeah, yeah, If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

Scorpio, Scorpio, Scorpio! This is the one time I'll assign my star sign to a character because it fits him so well, along with his face claim being a Scorpio as well.

Mattheo loves The Smiths. There is no arguing there. This is definitely Marcus inspired, but it is just so nice.

He wears black almost exclusively. It is just his go-to and fits his general vibe. If he must, he'll go for a neutral-toned checkered flannel or jean jacket when it gets cold.

Mattheo has immaculate handwriting. Like, people look at his work and can't help but stare because they're surprised at the quality of it.

He drinks black coffee in the mornings, and that's it.

Does get into a lot of fights. And he wins all of them. However, unlike what others may think, he tries to give someone a chance to out themselves from a potential fight before he goes in.

Loves the horror genre. He talks up paranormal horror as the superior subgenre but will sit down and enjoy just about any kind.

He is a Resident Evil fan (Resident Evil 1 came out in 1996, so this is for slightly more modern au's).

His closest friends are Theo and Blaise, but he gets along well with Enzo and has an okay relationship with Draco.

He is knowledgeable and a strong critical thinker but doesn't care much about academics. Besides Defense Against The Dark Arts, he is really talented at Potions.

'Claims' people. His icy demeanor is rather tough to break; once he lets you in, it's like a switch is flipped, and he's more possessive and protective than anyone could've anticipated.

Has a mean jealous streak. This has been known, lol.

I think he prefers cats - but honestly, I see him being hesitant towards pets. He is still sweet toward them and would be a love bug with a pet of his own, but I can see a pet approaching him, and he wouldn't know what to do at first, haha. 

Mattheo is sarcastic to his core. Shows his affection through teasing. But he can be quite serious and good at knowing the right words to support someone when needed.

Slight NSFW implications - incredibly dominant, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind that's not his preferred mode 99% of the time.

To see Mattheo's sweet side is a real treat, but he keeps that part for whom he adores the most.

His love language is physical touch and its not even close. If he falls for you, he'll always make sure to be touching you in any way that is possible at that instance.

[f1a1w1n]

hiii💕 i was wondering if you could write headcannons about what you think dina’s wardrobe would look like?? I love all your work esp the tlou tattoo one you just did and i would love to see your take on what she would wear🫶

ofc I'd love too! and this is such a good idea thank you! if you guys have anymore ideas like this I'd love to hear it!

tlou wardrobe headcannons!

Dina

Dina would wear almost exclusively wear autumn colours. I feel like she would wear practical, but feminine outfits that differ depending on how she's feeling that day or what she has going on. And she always has her nails painted.

Ellie

I don't think Ellie would pay much attention to her fashion, really whatever she feels is most comfortable and practical. I can see her being an outfit repeater, probably just wearing jeans and a hoodie.

Jesse

I can see Jesse trying to pull of polo shirts, and when Dina or Ellie bully him about it he'll tell them that they don't get the concept. I think he would try to incorporate knitwear into his outfits as well, but ultimately going back to flannels.

Abby

Hear me out. She's a Lululemon slave. She would dress like a P.E. teacher, let's be fr. I can see her only wearing sweatpants with the Lululemon bbl jacket and on special occasions her Abercrombie camo hoodie.

hope you guys liked this, if you have any more ideas just send me some ;))

If you want to be tagged, or recommend anything, fill this out.

[multiheadcanons]

THINGS THE MERCS WOULD WEAR OUT OF MY CLOSET

scout: he’s taking all my sweatpants and my boxers. i’ll never see them again. they won’t fit him because my waist is bigger than his. i feel like he’d very specifically take the sweatpants i used when i was younger and cosplayed as scout, and they would be his favorites without him putting much thought into it. they’re comfy! he might go through my sweaters, but i don’t think any would really catch his eye. i would insist he takes one of my many winter coats i don’t use. i just want him to be warm he worries me sometimes. and i need to get rid of these damn coats. i don’t know how they didn’t make it to the donate pile.

soldier: i have a single pair of decent steel toed work boots that are two sizes too big for me and i think him and engie would fight over them. they’re good boots. no brand on them. they’re khaki though. engie would probably get more use from them. and he’s gonna make fun of me because i have a single pair of matched socks and the rest of them are thrown in there. he’s welcome to organize the drawer if he really feels some type of way about it. gonna be really confused by the cropped jacket.

pyro: pyro would take my cloaks. they might also take my slippers (they’re cows), but my cloaks are definitely gone. they would also attempt to take my boot cut lavender levi’s jeans. i would definitely fight them for those pants though, they’re my favorite freakin pairs. they would be very confused as to why i have so many slips in colors i don’t own in my closet otherwise until i tell them that they’re summer nightwear. then they’d ask if every dress was my nightwear. and i would have to ask myself if i really want to keep all of my dresses or if i want the faceless murderer to have them instead. maybe leave the pink one, please? and we would be having many serious conversations about the taylor swift merch. i’m willing to part with some stuff but i’m fighting on others.

demo: all of my turtlenecks are gone. i’ll never see them again. that’s on me though, i have like five different black turtlenecks that have different textured fabric. if he could leave me at least one, preferably the ribbed one, that would be so awesome. and if he’ll leave me my velvet while it’s still cold outside that would be equally awesome thank you tavish. he would probably be the one to take my knit sweaters. i’d beg for the dysphoria sweater to be left. please leave me my one dysphoria sweater.

heavy: i think i maybe have three sleep shirts that are actually in heavy’s size, and they would just be normal shirts on him. one of them is a texas tourist shirt, one of them is a game grumps shirt, and the last one is my unus annus buddy system shirt. he can have the texas one. we would actually have to fistfight for my game grumps shirt, i had to wait like six months for the restock, and i’m snatching my unus annus shirt directly out of his hands. it’s not even getting unfolded for him to look at. he’d find it humorous that i’m emotionally attached to these shirts, and wouldn’t take anything. appalled by what i call my winter coat.

engineer: he would first try to take my one winter coat that i wear exclusively, which is actually just a men’s green sherpa jacket i stole from my brother like 6 years ago at this point. i will kindly, yet firmly steer him towards the three other men’s winter coats currently sitting in my closet that i don’t touch. he’d probably end up getting the work boots. i’ll miss them. but they’re good boots.

medic: he is popping the lenses out of every frame of glasses i own. he’s got his own lenses he can put in them. i have nine sets of prescription glasses. i’m very serious about my glasses, i will never wear contacts so i need to have variety in my glasses. and he’s gonna decide he wants variety too. he’s maybe leaving me two if he decides he likes me that day. i would have to beg at his feet to not leave me my worst pairs. but he’s not leaving without almost every set i own. he would have me begging him to get out of my room. he’s like… the worst sister in the world. he’ll rag on my clothing tastes and then say “oooo! i’m taking this.”

sniper: he’d probably go through my pullovers. his legs are longer than mine, so i don’t think he’s going to fit any of my pants. but he can fit my pullovers. he could take them, i wouldn’t care. mostly opts for my neutral pullovers, or the quarter zips. if he’d leave me one black crewneck i don’t care otherwise. i don’t think he’d take anything though. he might take this thick, tight knit maroon quarter zip pullover. i’d let him, i hardly wear it. will go through my jewelry if he’s already allowed to go through my clothes.

spy: joining sniper in going through my jewelry. probably thinks my style is doodoo garbage. doesn’t get my shoe choices. annoyed by the extensive pairs of open toed fuzzy slippers. respected the glasses concept until medic took them, so there went that. appreciates the body jewelry selection. but he can’t wrap his mind around how all of the individual pieces could even come together to make semi coherent outfits. sorry not all of us can afford three thousand dollar suits…

[thisismeracing]

Screw him | MS47 (Patreon Exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Mechanic!mick x reader (she/her) ― Warning: +18! mentions of alcohol, food, and cheating; graphic description of sex (fingering, handjob, public sex, and choking); dom!ms47; 5k words. ― Summary: When you move to a different neighborhood and discover your hot neighbor is a mechanic, half of your problems evolving your old car are solved. Your issues with your current boyfriend aren’t though. You too need a fix, and Mick may be the perfect guy for it.

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preview

The first thing that called your attention to the next-door neighbor the second you stepped out of the car were the chords of Californication – at least it’s good music, you thought. The second thing was the black car parked in the garage with open gates. If you could guess, you would say that some kind of single rocker uncle in his sixties lived there, he probably had a bike too considering the helmets hanging in the garage, he was most likely part of a bike club, drank beer, and wore worn out jeans and a cap.

But your guess turned out to be wrong when you walked back to the car to grab your things from the truck and a blonde guy around his twenties was smoking in front of said garage. He was wearing a black hoodie contrasting with his pale skin, and when your eyes met, you felt your body flutter. He had a pair of deep blue orbs that you could tell from a distance paired with pink lips that turned upward just a tiny bit – enough to indicate that he wasn’t unpleased by your appearance or staring. Giving him a small, polite wave you got back to loading your new house with your old stuff. 

-

If you were to be honest, you didn’t mind Dave that much. The sex was mid at best, he knew how to be rude, and he had a jealousy issue, but he was familiar. Something you got used to. Something that got to you during a hard time in your life, just like Natalie Diaz once said, grief and love are alike, they can blend in a way you can’t tell which is which. 

You held him like you held to your grief. 

However, you were in a new place. Physically and mentally. That new place included kind people like Mrs. Angelina, Mick, and the twin neighbors – Amina and Aman, a new community. 

And, of course, when you called Mick late at night after being unable to reach Dave, he answered on the first ring. 

Friday night.

Past eleven.

First ring.

Instant pickup.

You were still trying to digest the whole thing when his voice sounded on the other side of the line. You have been interacting long enough to pinpoint precisely how his voice shifts, to notice the hind of worry in his tone. 

“Yn?” He tries again after your silence. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah, hm… Are you busy?” you bit the inside of your cheek wanting the metallic taste to anchor you. Your mind was everywhere but where it needed to be. 

You heard shuffling around and his rock music being turned down, “Nah, I’m just working on the missus, as usual.” The missus being his black Benz EVO II. “What happened?” 

“Bluey stopped working in the middle of a shortcut I decided to take,” you spilled everything, using the nickname you got for your car when you first got it.

“Oh shoot, you should have let me look at him that first week,” he mumbled, and you heard his keys jingle. “Send me your location, I’m on my way to tow that old bastard.” 

“Please, show my Honda some respect,” you joshed and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you could almost see him rolling his eyes playfully. “Don’t hang up, keep talking to me so I know you’re safe.”

“I’m ok, Mick, it’s just a weird and dark road, but no signs of snakes or frogs so all good.”

“How funny, did you get extra sugar on your coffee today, sweets?” 

It was your turn to roll your eyes except you did it to prevent your smile from growing. 

“Yup, extra sugar and extra syrup. I got you a venti iced, but if you keep being this sassy I’ll drink it all before you get here.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, I would, Mick. I totally would.” 

He huffed, and you both giggled like a pair of teenagers before a comfortable silence was installed. 

Sure enough, five minutes later he was looking inside your Honda’s motor while you held your flashlight beside him. His hands and arms were stained with oil and car grease from working on his car earlier that day. 

-

You took a step back. Your ass found the grill of his black Mercedes, and your eyes lowered to his black Converses, suddenly finding the creases and dirt on the shoes interesting enough, until they stepped between your legs. His sturdy body claimed its space there.

Mike didn’t need to say a word – his cigarette and drink were forgotten beside you, and his free hands found your waist, pushed your body on the hood of the car, and fully stepped between your thighs. His strong waist made you open wide for him. He didn’t need to say a word, yet he did and wanted to hear you say it. 

“Will you let me give you an orgasm? Show you what that loser of a boyfriend probably never did.”

There it was his crudeness again, laced with filth. You gulped, staring into his ocean-blue eyes, and after a beat, finally, nodded.

Mike’s pink lips tipped up in a smirk, and he dipped his head so his mouth was close to your ear, “Wanna hear you say it, sweets.” 

He wanted you to be part of his dirty game. He wouldn’t do it alone. He wouldn’t take the blame. Or maybe he just rejoiced in knowing there was a part of you as filthy as he was, that craved the illicit with him. His honesty, though unsettling, draped over you like a blanket. It was warm. Maybe too warm. It would most likely burn soon, but you didn’t care. You wanted his body to be draped over yours too. Wanted the gush of air that left his mouth when he whispered against the skin of your neck. 

“Please, Mike.” 

“You gotta say it.”

“Fuck. Fuck me.”

And everything he did after felt like a fever dream.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah* and PLEASE, LET'S INDULGE IN THIS MECHANIC!MICK UNIVERSEEEE, I'M KINDA OBSESSED WITH IT dskgjsdkgdg

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[jtargaryen18]

The Last Lantern ~ Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Words: 3.5k

Pairings (to come): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers

Story: You and your three best friends from college booked a posh, month-long tropical island getaway exclusively for women. When dinner is over, and the champagne stops flowing, it's time to get this party started.

What happens next, no one could have anticipated...

A/N: I've been battling writer's block for weeks. When I decided to just start writing something, this is what happened...

TW: Duplicity, drugging, kidnapping, stalking, tree sex, and lightning bolts. Many more to come...

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18. I do not consent to copying, translating, or posting my work on other apps.

"There she is!" Sadie's voice pulled your attention to your group of waiting friends.

Sadie looked like a movie star as she rose the the elegant table, gracefully wearing stilettos so high they'd make your nose bleed. She looked beautiful in the forest green cocktail dress she wore, her hair shining in gorgeous red spirals and her green eyes sparkling with mischief. She managed to hug you tight with a full champagne glass held in one hand. The jasmine and rose scent she wore unmistakably Chanel No. 5. 

Mina and Ellen were waiting to hug you next and they were dressed to the nines too. Mina wore her favorite "little black dress" and her dark hair was elegantly swept up into a sophisticated style you'd never seen her wear - but it suited her. Excitement lit up her dark eyes and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Or alcohol, considering she almost lost her balance on her high heels when she welcomed you with a hug.

But Ellen, well, she was a masterpiece in a deep sapphire-blue dress that showed off her gorgeous figure, highlighting the cool, jewel undertones of her flawless brown skin. She'd worn her hair up too, showing off her slender, elegant neck and the golden string of delicate diamonds she wore. Her hug was warm, her smile wide as she stepped back and her gaze swept over you.

Yeah, next to your friends who looked like a trio of goddesses, to say you were lacking was an understatement. You were in jeans and T-shirt with a light jacket and sneakers. You had no makeup on, your hair in its normal style. You felt pretty lucky that none of the staff said anything to you. You wouldn't be surprised at all if there were an imposed dress code. All you could do was hope your luck held out.

"I'm glad you finally made it," Ellen said.��"What happened with your flight?"

Your flight had been delayed by two hours because of the hurricane that had threatened the eastern seaboard for the last week. When you finally reached your destination airport, you had to try and contact the folks who were running Elysium to arrange for transportation since you'd missed their shuttle earlier. After an hour or so of no one answering, and your friends weren't answering either, you were about to give up. But when you saw an Elysium limousine at the front of the airport. You'd dashed out to ask if you could get a ride and explained your situation. The older driver smiled, explaining you were exactly why he returned to the airport. 

It was a huge relief. The four of you had been planning this vacation to Elysium for literally months. The month-long island stay was exclusive, expensive, with a waiting list two years long. 

When you arrived, they immediately hustled you to a waiting helicopter and flew you with your belongings to the island. You'd been shown to your room where you left your things and you'd immediately headed to the dinner event. You'd probably missed most of it. You  were hoping you could still get something to eat. You'd brought a couple of protein bars for your trip and it was all you'd eaten today.

Blowing out an exhale, you shook your head. "I tried to text you guys," you explained. "My flight was delayed by two hours because of Hurricane Arlene. I got to the airport and I was calling Elysium, calling you guys. I couldn't get anyone to answer. Finally, they sent another limousine to get me and then flew me over here."

"We were talking about the cell phone thing," Mina said, walking around their table to retake her seat. "It must be bad cell coverage or something. None of us have gotten a single bar since we arrived here on the island."

"Which sucks because I promised my kids I'd call them each night before they went to bed," Sadie said, sitting between Mina and Ellen. She was the only one in your group who had kids -- the cutest like girls, one and three, with curly red hair just like hers. Their father recently left the picture and she'd been despondent. Trying to find a way to cheer her up was ultimately the reason they were there.

"Well, we'll ask someone," you said, knowing how important that was. "I'm sure there's some way to get a phone call out. I mean they have to for emergencies, right?"

Sadie nodded, downing her champagne.

Now that you were there, you took a moment to look around. The dinner scene was pure paradise—a secluded beachfront on a tropical island, where the golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the pristine white sands. A long, elegant table stretches beneath a canopy of swaying palm trees, adorned with soft, flowing linens in ivory and gold. The table settings are exquisite, with fine china, crystal stemware, and gold-rimmed plates reflecting the candlelight flickering in delicate glass holders.

Above, an enchanting display of lanterns, suspended from the trees and wooden posts, sway gently in the island breeze, casting a soft, romantic glow over the scene. Some were traditional paper lanterns, their intricate designs filtering the light in mesmerizing patterns, while others were delicate glass orbs filled with twinkling fairy lights.

Chefs in tall white hats and immaculate coats move gracefully between stations, preparing and plating gourmet dishes with the precision of artists. Freshly grilled seafood, vibrant tropical salads, and decadent desserts are arranged on each plate like masterpieces. A sommelier moves between guests, pouring glasses of the finest wines and champagne, the bubbles catching the candlelight in an effervescent dance.

A live string quartet played in the background, the melody of their songs mingling with the sound of waves lapping at the shore. The musicians, dressed in crisp white and soft linen, performed a classical piece, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and enchantment. You smiled at the magical feeling of everything all around you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky transformed into a masterpiece of deep purples, fiery oranges, and velvety blues. The guests, exclusively women, dressed in elegant evening attire like your friends, toasting the moment's beauty. Laughter and conversation drifted through the air like music.

You sat in the empty chair at the table with your friends. As you settled in, you noticed the empty champagne bottle under the table. Another was open on the table, and it was nearly empty. Reaching for the empty glass, you smiled."Can I have the rest?" You pointed at the bottle.

The group of them laughed. "Of course," Ellen told her, pouring it in your glass herself. "It's really good."

"It must be. Thank you."

"Now that we're all here," Mina said, raising her glass, "here's to the best month-long goddamn girls' vacation fucking ever!"

Cheering, you clinked your glasses together for her toast. Just as you were about to take a drink, a voice over a loudspeaker said, "Ladies, welcome!"

Holy shit! Tony Stark stood at the podium before your gathering, his back to the trees off the beach. The four of you exchanged glances with excitement. You'd been told a celebrity or two might be on the island during your stay. You were expecting an influencer or minor actor. None of you expected Tony Stark, devastatingly handsome in his immaculate tuxedo, to be here for your island getaway.

"Have you had a wonderful evening so far?" he asked, his hazel-eyed gaze behind his trademark glasses skimming over all of you. 

As enthusiastic calls and whoops rose to answer his question, you looked around. There were probably a dozen tables gathered, all ladies who had booked this vacation. It was a little interesting that you all seemed to be a younger crowd, twenties and thirties. Hell, you and your friends had all gone to college together and you actually planned the trip to celebrate your thirtieth birthdays.With the money it took to book this island getaway, an opulent women's retreat, you would have expected to see at least a couple of older ladies.There wasn't a single one. 

Taking a sip of the champagne, you listened to Tony Stark thank all the benefactors and corporations that made this event possible. Event? That sounded odd because you’d signed up for a month-long luxury getaway with your best friends from college. He made it sound like some big charity or scientific event.

The inside of your mouth tingled. You stopped looking into your half-full champagne glass. There was a strange aftertaste to the sparkling beverage. Putting it back on the table, you returned your attention to the billionaire still speaking.

“Now, are you all excited to get started?” Tony asked.

The cheers from all of you were modest.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

You all whooped and cheered while he motioned with his hands for more. Louder, louder. When the lot of you finally hit the right decibel, he conceded.

“We have two awesome OG members of the Avengers tonight helping us get this party started,” he continued. “They’re not as awesome as me, granted. But they’re still pretty awesome. Give it up for Hawkeye and the Black Widow.” 

More cheering as the pair of Avengers walked out to join Tony. You studied them hard. It was indeed Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Wow. They weren’t dressed for the occasion but wore their uniforms, and you guessed that maybe that was to lend authenticity to their presence. The Black Widow was amazingly beautiful, with luminous green eyes and a perfect figure with the right combination of tone and curves. When you gazed at Clint Barton, you found his gaze on you. At that point, you stopped staring.

“Ladies, if you’re finished with your meal and refreshments,” Tony said, “let’s start the show.”

After more applause, Tony stepped back, and workers for the event came and took away the background that had been behind him, which ended up being a few greenery pieces and a couple of potted plants. They revealed a pathway leading into the deep wooded area of the island. And the path revealed was beautiful, lit by more small lanterns to lead the way. 

"Ladies," Clint Barton called, "form a line right here." He pointed to the space before him, and just like that, women from other tables spilled out and formed a line, some steady on their feet, others not so much. "You'll head down the path. When you reach the last lantern, you'll know you're in the right place.

Ellen, Mina, and Sadie rose from the table, going in that direction. Mina still didn't look so steady on her heels, but Sadie carefully squeezed your upper arm. "Come on, bitch. Time to party!"

Smiling, you rose, hanging back and watching the other women wobble on their heels to get in line for whatever came next. You followed your friends and ended up the last in line for whatever island adventure you were about to embark on.

Mina and Sadie giggled like teenagers when they approached, asking if they could go in together. With a beautiful smile, the Black Widow granted their request. Ellen stepped up next, and only then did you notice that Clint Barton scanned her with some high-tech wand he held in his hand. The Black Widow had a tablet in her hand, and after the scan, a bunch of stats on Ellen flashed on the screen. You tried to read it but didn't get very much of it. You could have sworn you saw "last menstrual cycle" on the device.

The fuck?

 You watched Ellen wander in, looking all around her in wonder. 

Then it was your turn, and you were the last one. When you stepped up, again, Clint Barton gave you that assessing stare. 

"Name?" he asked, smiling after a moment. You gave him your name, and he scanned you with the wand. Immediately, you looked to see what was on the screen the Black Widow held, but she shifted, pulling it out of your view.

"Go ahead," Barton told you, motioning you forward with his hand. "Look for the last lantern." 

With no idea what to expect, you shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started walking into the island's heart. You could have sworn you heard Clint Barton behind you say something and then "dressed like that?"

"It doesn't make a difference," you thought the Black Widow said.

Were they talking about the fact that you were dressed for the grocery store and not as a guest on their upscale, luxury island? You felt bad enough as it was. But considering what you paid and that you couldn't control the weather, they'd just have to deal. You were here, and honestly, as a chilly breeze blew against your back, you were a little grateful that you weren't in a skimpy cocktail dress or heels.

You'd wandered several feet in when you noticed you didn't see anyone else. Where were Mina, Sadie, and Ellen? They'd been right in front of you. You stopped, taking a whiff of the air, trying to pick up traces of Sadie's perfume. But you didn't smell anything besides the tropical paradise all around you, the scent of the ocean beyond.

Everything felt peaceful, and beautiful birds flew around you, singing to announce the approaching night. You appreciated the view, but you were puzzled because, best you could tell, there were forty-some other women on this island. Where were they now? You'd watched most of them walk down the same path you took, but where had they gone?

What were you supposed to be doing anyway? It was getting dark.

Someone screamed, and you froze. It sounded like Mina. Oh, shit. What was going on with this place?

"Mina?" you called back. There was no answer. The birds stopped singing, but the dull roar of the ocean never ceased. Your heart pounded in fear, drowning it all out. "Mina!"

You took off in the direction you thought the scream came from; none of the other women, including your friends, were in sight. You stopped after a few minutes to catch your breath, your mind scrambling. "Mina!" you yelled again. Surely to fuck someone could hear you, right?

You kept moving, but a sense of foreboding sent a chill down your spine. Something wasn't right here. At all. A rustling sound had you spinning around, looking for the source of that noise. You saw nothing. Anxiety kept your heart flying and sped up your breathing. 

The air around you stilled, the kind of silence that crawls under your skin, a warning that something isn't right. You weren't alone. Someone else was there. You heard them. More rustling sounds made your breath hitch. You still can’t see whoever stalked you, but you know someone's there. Was it one of the other women?

Then, the sound of the branches snapping—the faintest rustle—drew your attention upward, and it was like an image from a nightmare. From the highest point of the tree you stood under, a huge man drops like a shadow, moving too fast for you to react, a blur of motion. When he lands, his presence fills the space like a predator closing in. His body is built like a weapon, sleek but powerful, and even without seeing his face, something about how he moves sends a chill down your spine. Every motion is precise and controlled—this isn't just a man; it's an extension of violence itself.

You can barely make out the outline of his mask, but even from a distance, you feel the cold, soulless gaze through it. It was unsettling how his mask absorbs the light, hiding the person behind it. It made him feel more like a ghost than a man. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The quiet intensity of his every movement is enough to tell you he’s been watching you the whole time, waiting for the right moment.

His hand moves to the dark metal arm—part of him, part of the weapon—glinting ominously in the dim light. A flick of the wrist and a knife appears as though it’s always been there, like an extension of his body. He’s calm, too calm, and it’s terrifying. A chill runs up your spine as you realize this isn't just a guy in a costume. It’s something worse. A hunter.

And I’m his prey.

You were frozen to the spot, staring at the dangerous-looking man who just jumped down from the tree. Intense, pale blue colored eyes peered at you from the top of the black mask covering his lower face. His longer hair hung in shining dark waves around his face, and the effect was terrifying. The man had a knife, for fuck's sake.

You shook your head before you could think of a thing to say. "Nuh-uh."

You cut and run, sprinting like hell in the opposite direction. You didn't know what was going on here, but this was not how you expected your month-long bestie Island luxury resort getaway to go. At all. You hauled ass, trying not to trip as you ran, hoping to find the entrance with Hawkeye and Black Widow. Maybe one of them could deal with the guy chasing you now. 

When he grabbed the back of your jacket, he used it to pull you to a halt. You tried to scream, but nothing came out. Scrambling in fear, you unzipped your jacket, letting him pull it off you as you darted ahead. Your heart hammered in your chest. You ran as fast as you humanly could. 

As you ran, you passed another woman fleeing in terror; her shoes were gone, and her elegant silver dress had ripped. You changed directions to head for her. But out of nowhere, the Falcon swooped in, grabbing the woman like a hawk snatching up a field mouse while in flight. He carried her up and away. 

What the fuck was happening?

Your heart pounded in your chest. The masked man's footsteps pounded behind you. You were so busy glancing back at the man trying to catch you barely missed being struck by a massive bolt of lightning. Lightning? From fucking where? You hid behind a bigger tree and looked to the sky for a coming storm. It wasn't a storm you saw. You saw an unbelievable sight in the tree next to the one where you hid. A woman from the dinner party, a pretty blonde with a red dress and red lipstick, was pinned to a tree a good twenty feet up. 

What? 

Random lightning strikes had you flinching and squinting to make out what was happening there. Another blond, huge and muscular, impossibly hovered up there with her, fucking her into the tree with abandon. The top half of him was bare, the woman's legs wrapped around his slim waist, her red heels digging into his navy-colored pants.

Oh, my God. Is that Thor?

When another lightning strike hit too close to you, you screamed. When you started running again, you ran right into the masked man. A metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you off your feet and against a body that was just as hard. Your breath huffed out as he pinned you to his side in an unrelenting grip and took off running. 

Thank God you hadn't drank much. The sight of the wooded area of the island flew by at terrifying speed, and you tucked your head against him to keep from getting sick. It felt like you were flying. You moved so fast, and all you could do was hope that, somehow, this was part of the arrangement. It was just something fun they were surprising you with. An immersive experience that you'd all laugh about later. 

But then Falcon grabbed that woman... And Thor fucked another woman up a tree. That didn't seem like something that would be on the itinerary...

You cried out for help as you were carried away at a dizzying speed. That metal arm tightened around you in response, compressing your ribs. His metal arm. It hit you then who exactly had snatched you away. 

You'd been captured by the fucking Winter Soldier.

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 14

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 13 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Y/n attempted to roll her eyes as soon as she saw Jungkook getting out of his apartment at the same time she was planning to leave. It almost was as if he was waiting for her to leave.

—3A, where are you going looking so good? —he teased her.

She was wearing one of those floral dresses that were tied up at the front, and that had a skirt so light it'd probably be the easiest to lift it up. She usually only wore jeans and shirts to work, so that new outfit got him wondering where she could be going.

—Work —she huffed—. I have an interview with the city's mayor for a shared report —she stopped as she became aware of how much she was sharing with him—. Why am I even telling you this? Get lost.

—You're always so rude for no reason —he mentioned as he approached her, resting his shoulder on the wooden frame of the elevator—. I thought you'd start treating me better after I agreed on helping you with the article.

—You've done too many wrongdoings for me to forget about it only because of the article.

—Last time I checked you did them just as much as I did —he stopped her—. Shouldn't I be as angry as you are?

—Please, be —she clicked on the button of the elevator—. It'd be great if you just approached me for the article.

—That wasn't what you were saying the other night...

—Shh —she quickly turned to him—. I'll geld you if you bring it up again.

—You must hate having a good time. No wonder you're so bitter and sad.

—That's right. Now leave me alone with my bitterness and sadness —she replied back.

She thought she'd escape the walking temptation Jungkook was in when she stepped inside the elevator, but he sneaked inside before she could react to it and push him out again. He was making things so difficult first thing in the morning, she wondered if he ate crack for breakfast to have that level of energy so early.

Jungkook looked down at her, aware of the way her eyes kept shifting towards the buttons at her left, desperately trying to keep her eyes away from him and trying not to make any eye contact that could unchain another bickering.

She seemed so difficult, but at the same time he could bet she was so easy. The previous times it only took him an intimate surrounding and some heated bickering before she gave in.

If he moved the tip of his finger through her neck, would she move her neck to the side to allow him to brush her hair back and expose that area so he could kiss it? And if that happened, would she allow him to move down that light skirt to sneak his hand inside and let his fingers meet up with that glorious place he was sinking in not even two nights back? The image of her squirming to his touch, trying to control herself was driving him insane. But having it slowly escalate to him pinning her against the wall, and making out with her in the lewdest way possible was a growing need that he needed to erase from his brain.

She didn't do anything other than just being there. She didn't talk or look at him the few seconds they lasted in the elevator. Yet he was bringing out his most animalistic instincts.

Perhaps... why was he craving her that bad? It shouldn't even have happened the second time. What the hell was going on?

Y/n frowned at how Jungkook looked so stiff all of a sudden, seeing his panicked expression through his reflection on the mirror on her left.

He thought it'd be over, Jungkook was convinced he'd move on from the grip she had on him after they had sex the second time, but it only got him to want her even more. And with that same expression, he escaped the elevator as soon as its door opened, without even saying goodbye.

—Decent people say goodbye, you freak! —Y/n called him out, not even getting him to turn back to her— What the fuck is wrong with him?

He was the one constantly being a pain in the ass, and the one who sneaked inside the elevator, yet he escaped and ran away as if she had the most contagious illness. Who could ever understand him? Not her, and it wasn't like she wanted to either.

She was so consumed by her thoughts, so annoyed by Jungkook's attitude, that she didn't bother to look up when she collided against someone. A "sorry" came out of her lips, at the same time she was determined to follow her way to the station.

—Y/n?

That voice...

Kyle Robson was right in front of her, with a surprised expression that she quickly mirrored when she confirmed it was actually him. He looked exactly the same way he did a few months back, before they lost contact because she didn't want to go any further with him, and he was determined on winning her over again after they broke up a little too many times.

Just thinking about all the time it took her to move on from that toxic on and off relationship made her internally squirm.

—It's so nice to see you —he smiled at her, poking one of his hands inside the pocket of his pants—. I see you're still living in the area.

It wasn't like she had any other choices to move out.

—Yeah, yeah —she nodded—. What about you? What are you doing here?

Unless he moved out, it was weird seeing him there. He belonged to one of the most crowded areas in Chicago, and she knew it by the way he refused to barely make a move to visit her there when they were dating.

—I came to see a friend.

Nice, now her self-esteem was starting to reach a new low. Even after she moved on from him, she managed to feel offended by his words.

He made Jungkook seem like an angel.

Wait... why did she even bring up Jungkook? His ass was everywhere even when she didn't want to think about him.

—I thought you had it difficult to get here —she barked back, unable to hide the pettiness in her tone as she replayed the same excuse he gave her years back.

—It's... —he nervously laughed— he was the one who drove me here.

He was really that dumb that he probably wouldn't know how to make something as simple as Google Maps work.

—Where are you going?

—To work —she simply said.

—Are you still working at that newspaper? —he hopefully asked.

Of course he remembered that. It was their middle ground whenever they met months back. If they wanted to see each other, he always made sure she was in the office to pick her up and take her back to his place.

—Yeah, and I'm already late, so...

—Wait —his fingers softly hooked her forearm before she could step away—, do you want to meet for a coffee or something? It was nice seeing you, and I'd like to catch up with your life.

It always started that way whenever they saw each other after breaking up. He offered to have a quick chat, they connected somehow, and later she ended up tangled in his bed, naked and with a single pinch of dignity as she hid herself under the covers.

It was such a poisoned cycle that she felt free when she ended it up for good five months back.

—Just in a friendly way —he assured her—. I could pick you up at work one of these days.

—It's not necessary —she stepped back.

But maybe a little distraction was exactly what she needed to get her stupid neighbor out of her head, and all of the unconscious thoughts she had throughout the day. Probably the fact that she was so busy with her work and those boxing parties kept her from meeting new people, to the point of recurring to the same annoying person that would brag on her face how she crawled back as soon as they met on their shared landing.

And it wasn't like she'd actually sleep with Kyle.

—I'll send you a place where we could meet later today, if you want —she answered—. Do you still have the same phone number?

—Yeah —he quickly nodded—. I'll wait for your text, then!

Jimin entered the office, just to find Jungkook sitting at the edge of the desk while he stared frustrated at his own phone, which was quite unusual. They had known each other for years, and his friend had always been the type to ignore any type of connection through social media, texts or even calls.

He always moved better in real life.

But that day his eyes were fixed on the screen, with both hands holding the small device while his frown deepened with every second that went by.

Reopening his Tinder profile wasn't something he was planning. In fact, the day he created an account he only did it to find out what was all the fuss about with that app, only to find out it was similar to what he found in real life, with the only difference that those women were miles away, and most of them weren't even looking forward to meet up with him in real life.

It was a waste of time.

Jimin curiously looked over his shoulder, seeing the way the pictures changed as his friend scrolled left and right.

—The big Jeon Jungkook is using Tinder? —Jimin mocked him— I knew there was something off with you when you started showing up here at eight in the morning, but a Tinder account is going beyond my expectations.

—I'm just testing it —he excused himself, not moving his eyes up to his friend—. Capitalism has fucked everyone, because why the fuck do I need to pay to see who's interested in me? Huh? It's so annoying.

—I mean... that's where Tinder gets benefits from —Jimin shrugged—. Although it's not like you really need it. You're the first person I've seen that's able to get a girl's attention by just saying a word.

—Who says I'm using it because I need it? I said I was just testing it —he excused himself—. I don't need it.

He did need it though. At least for the short while that trance with Y/n lasted.

—Whatever —Jimin rolled his eyes—, there's a woman asking about you outside.

And said woman wasn't Y/n, even if he hoped it was. Jimin knew her, so he'd have said she was the one asking about him, instead of referring to a random person.

He sees Y/n coming back later than usual with her lipstick completely messed. If it was again that insurance commercial that bothered him not even two weeks back...

Jungkook was thinking of everything he'd tell the person outside if it was anyone he wasn't interested in seeing. He had enough money to pay the rent, survive and keep the business, anything else was a privilege he couldn't afford to have.

After huffing and saving his phone in the back pocket of his pants, he walked outside the small office and crossed the short corridor that led to the rest of the gym. He could see the silhouette of a tall well-dressed woman, who certainly didn't seem like she was there to train. Jungkook's steps suddenly became slower when she moved her left arm to her side, letting him see a bracelet he recognized almost instantly -and that he hoped was only a coincidence.

He didn't understand how she had the audacity to show up there, wearing a bracelet his father gifted to her, after everything she did to the both of them.

—What are you doing here?

It was shocking for him to see how those ten years away from each other fell on her, making her look completely different from what he remembered. The wrinkles in her face were a bit more marked, her usual long hair was chopped to her shoulders while also losing the glow it had when he was younger.

It just made him aware of how long it had been since he last saw her. Younger, selfish, and completely self-absorbed.

—I told you I needed to talk with you —she insisted.

—And I think I told you I have nothing to talk with you —he snapped back, resting his hands on his hips.

Yun Hee was also aware of the way years went through her son, giving him a manlier and more mature aura than he had when she last saw him. It didn't matter how many piercings he added to his face and ears, or how many tattoos he inked on the skin of his arms, his rounded face still remained the same as when he was sixteen, even if his big doe eyes squinted at her with disgust.

—How did you know how to find me?

—I searched you up on Instagram, and the location of this place appeared in some of your posts. I guessed you were working here...

—Well, those guesses should've taken you to the point of "If someone says they don't want to see you around them, don't go where they are". I think it's common sense.

—It was the only way...

—To what? —he tilted his head— I thought I was clear when I told you I don't care about anything that has something to do with you. It was all over the second you went out that door. You didn't care about dad or I, so why should I care about you or what you have to say now? Does it have something to do with me? Is it something that affects me?

—N... no —she shook her head.

—Then save it up because I don't wanna hear it. And don't show your face in front of me again —he roughly asked—. I really don't want to do anything I'll regret. Got it?

After clicking his tongue, he didn't allow his mother to say anything else. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to hear it. He had been doing great the past ten years, it took him so long to get over everything she destroyed, he didn't need her to do any of that back again.

—If she comes asking for me again —he told Jimin, stepping inside the office again—, tell her I'm not here even if I am. Unless you want to deal with the consequences.

Jimin had seen his friend in all sorts of moods, in different situations, but it was never as serious as angry as that day. And he didn't want to know how serious he actually was about it. At the end of the day, whatever problem he had with that woman was his business, and he had no reason to stand in between to try to understand it.

Jungkook dragged his feet up the last two steps of the stairs, resting his head heavily against his door as he pouted.

It was the first time that happened to him, and he couldn't believe in what moment it all escaped his control.

That girl was basically ready for him, he had the chance to have an amazing night, and he ruined it by pushing her away after he imagined Y/n's for a quick second. He stepped on the floor, annoyed, kicking the ground before he started whining.

What the hell was wrong with him? Y/n was like a curse which he had no control over, she was ruling everything in... Right, the curse.

But among all the girls in the world, Y/n was really the one who would be punishing him? Seriously? The universe had to be joking if she was the karma he was supposed to face.

He certainly was tripping.

Shortly after he stepped inside his apartment, he heard the bell of the elevator stopping at his floor, having him faking pretending how much he didn't care about who it could be when he realized how fast he moved back to the door to check through the peephole. He moved quickly when he recognized her figure and the same dress she was wearing that morning, stepping outside his place to pretend he was just getting out.

—Oh, 3A, we see each other again —he chuckled.

—Unfortunately —she commented under her breath.

—How was the interview?

He asked that question to hide the fact of how annoyed he was over her pink lipstick being completely smudged, surprising the corners and the outlines of her lips. She for sure had an amazing interview by the looks of her messy hair and fucked up make up.

—Good —she mentioned.

—I can tell. Did you use your mouth too much? —he bitterly asked, raising his eyebrows.

Y/n looked at him confused, standing by her door, when he pointed at his own lips with his index. Her hand slowly covered her mouth, moving her thumb and index on the surroundings of her lips to find the sticky product somewhere other than her lips. She was so busy running away from the fact that she kissed Kyle out of desperation to feel attracted to someone else, that she didn't even care about her looks because she didn't expect to come across anyone on the way from the entrance to her house.

—You don't need to lie to me —he giggled—. I'm not the jealous type, so I don't really mind if you make out with someone else. I don't care about sharing.

But he did. He really did. Why was his blood boiling just after imagining Y/n kissing another guy?

—I din't cir ibit shiring —she mocked him—. I didn't lie. I had the interview, but then I met with someone and... Why am I giving you any explanations? —she stopped herself— Get lost —she repeated the same phrase she said in the morning.

Jungkook found himself in between the stairs and his door, groaning out of frustration before he stepped back inside his apartment. He needed to pay a quick visit to the tarot reader before things got out of his control. 

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're The Only Girl for Me - Chapter 9

yes, i did post this already, but I wasn't happy with it so.... 🤷🏽‍♀️

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

Trigger Warning: mentions of domestic violence

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @gomussy @jeysbae @empressdede @harmshake @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @romansnumberonegirl @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @babysyhsyh

if your name is bold, tumblr won't let me tag you

DECEMBER 28th 2020 - Pensacola FL

Whatchu’  wearin?” Josh asked as he and Airielle were talking on the phone. She looked down at her white long sleeve shirt and jeans and rolled her eyes. “I’m wearing lingerie at the supermarket.” He had flown to Georgia the day after Christmas to spend the rest of the week with his kids. She had thoughts about him and his ex-wife, but she had to remember that she and Josh weren’t technically together, they had gone on a couple of dates but they weren’t exclusive. He was technically a free man and could do what he wanted to.  

“Shit, bet the bag boys are loving that.” She laughed loudly at that, causing people to stare at her. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Awe, You miss me?.” She asked teasingly. 

“Mmhmm.” He hummed. “You know I do.” He paused, “ I told my sons I was seeing someone.” That stopped her. 

“You did?” She asked, surprised. She didn’t know why she was surprised. They had met each other's family already. 

“Yeah, they old enough to understand why me and they mom not together. They want to meet you.” Airielle almost hung the phone up on him and blocked his number. “You still there?” He asked after she didn’t say anything for a full minute. 

“Yeah,” She breathed out. “I would love to meet your kids.” 

AIRIELLEJONES

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“Wait, he said his kids want to meet you?” Airielle nodded and took a sip of her mimosa. As soon as she got off the phone with Josh, she called her cousins and set up an emergency meeting at their favorite brunch spot. 

“What did you say?” Airielle groaned and put her head in her hands. 

“I lied and said I want to meet them too.” Yasmine and Ashley looked at each other before bursting into laughter. “Shut up.” She said, throwing a piece of toast at each of them. “I panicked. I ain’t know what to say.” Airielle sighed and bit her lip. She was so close to texting Josh and telling him that they were moving too fast. 

Yasmine narrowed her eyes at Airielle. “Don’t you try to run away from that man Airielle.” Airielle opened her mouth but Yas cut her off.  “No, You knew he had kids and you still went on dates with him. Did you think you were never gonna meet them?” Airielle shrugged. 

“I don’t know.” She stressed, throwing her arms up in the air. 

“He ain’t Christopher. And you need to understand that.” Yasmine placed a couple of dollars down on the table before standing up and walking out of the restaurant. 

“She just wants you to be happy, Rih. And from what I seen at Christmas, Josh makes you happy.” Ashley smiled and patted Airielle’s hand before getting up and following Yasmine out of the restaurant. 

“Fuck.” Airielle whispered and placed her head in her hands. 

JANUARY 1st 2021 - Friday Night Smackdown

Josh was pissed. After he talked to Airielle the other day she had went ghost on him… again. All his calls and text messages went unanswered. He had thought about flying back to Pensacola to pop up on her but decided not to.  He was angry as fuck and didn’t want to say something he regretted. 

The first thing Josh did once he stepped foot into Tropicana Field was go search for Airielle. The last time she went ghost on him was because she was feeling him. And now this time he was sure it was because he brought up his kids. 

“Yo, you seen Airielle?” He asked Kayla as he walked over to her. Kayla looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes. 

“No, I haven’t seen your little girlfriend.” Josh rolled his eyes. He didn’t even know why he asked her bitter ass anything. When he tried to walk away she stopped him by grabbing his arm. “Is that all you have to say to me?”  Josh sucked his teeth and pulled his arm free of her grasp. 

“I ain’t got time for this Kayla.” 

“You haven’t said one word to me since September.  Since Airielle got here.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s like you just threw me to the curb for her.” 

“It was never like that with us and you know it Kay. You and I both know we was drinkin’ that night and one thing led to the other.” 

“So you never felt anything for me?” She felt her eyes water. Kayla was beyond embarrassed. 

“Shit, don’t cry aight? I’m sorry if I made you feel that way okay?”  She nodded but a tear still slipped out her eye and down her cheek. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He said and pulled her into a hug. 

Airielle felt horrible about avoiding Josh. She knew her cousin was right about Josh not being anything like Christopher but she couldn’t help it. Christopher had put her through hell for six years. From the verbal abuse to the actual domestic abuse that had landed her in the hospital with a broken nose and two broken ribs. 

After she was finished getting her hair and make-up done she decided to go and find Josh to apologize to him. She walked around the arena, checking catering and Joe’s locker room but not finding him. She turned down the corridor that led to the Gorilla and came to a stop as she saw Kayla and Josh hugging. 

“Oh.” Airielle said, making them both look over at her, her eyes bounced between the two of them before she turned around and started walking the way she came from. 

“Airielle wait.” Josh let go of Kayla and went to chase after Airelle.”Lemme explain -”  She sighed and stopped walking and turned to face him. 

“Josh, it’s cool. You don’t have to explain anything.” She said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not like we were together anyway.” She shrugged 

“Don’t give me that bullshit Rih. You know damn well you my girl.” 

“How? How was I possibly supposed to know that?” She felt her heart rate increase and her palms start to sweat. 

Josh frowned his face up at her. “Am I trippin? You met my family, I met yours and I told you that my kids know about you. You think I tell my kids about just anybody?”  Airielle crossed her arms and looked away from Josh. I need to get outta here. She thought. All she wanted to do was apologize, not get into a debate on whether they were together or not. 

“I was coming to look for you.” He said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “I stopped to ask Kayla if she seen you-” 

“Josh, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” He just blinked at her before continuing. 

“And she said she didn't, so I was gonna go on my way. But she wanted to talk about me and her and I had to tell her there was no me and her. She started to cry so I gave her a hug.” He summarized. 

“Look. I gotta go alright? Gotta see what I have to do tonight.” She removed his hand off her face before walking away.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

[deconstructthesoup]

Just for fun, I'm gonna show off my human designs for the Vessels and break them down... but I can't draw for shit, so, like the Slay the Professor Voices, this is gonna be in Picrew format.

Enjoy!

So, I've said this before, but when I make Beast a human, I always feel like the only way I can still capture her vibes is to make her a kid, or at least a preteen---a younger sister or a daughter of one of the other Vessels, usually Witch. She reads to me as that feral, weird little girl who digs holes with her fingernails on the playground, bites other kids, and almost always has a scraped knee or tiny cut on her face from horsing around that needs a fun Band-Aid to cover it, and her design's meant to reflect that. Beast strikes me as the kind of girl who'd just wear the same neutral colors with some green every day, and the kitty-ear hat is her most prized possession. This is the kind of kid who'd get labeled a "problem child" until she finally gets tested for ADHD.

Witch gives off grungy alternative vibes to me, and everything she does with her appearance is very deliberate---she doesn't have a skincare routine, but she always takes care of her piercings; she dyes her hair red herself and in the bathroom sink, but she always gets a good-quality and cruelty-free dye; she dresses almost exclusively in ripped jeans, flannels/overshirts, and T-shirts/tank-tops, but they're always somehow matching perfectly and look like actual outfits rather than just... well, what she threw on. To me, Witch is the person who gives off as much "I don't care" vibes as possible, while caring immensely in her own weird way.

Weirdly enough, Prisoner's human design was actually difficult, and that might have something to do with the fact that... well, she is the most human out of all of the Vessels, decapitation nonwithstanding. To that end, I wound up giving her a very academic-leaning style, which I think fits with her cynicism and default to the logical approach. She gets glasses, she gets a sweater vest, she gets Mary Janes... Prisoner's always trying to look presentable.

Damsel, meanwhile, was almost too easy---maximum pink, maximum ruffles, maximum princess vibes. There's no choice for Damsel other than being as adorable and as high-femme as possible, and... well, I'm pretty damn sure that comes across. It also helps her contrast well with Prisoner, since they're almost always twin sisters in my AUs.

I had two rules for Adversary: make her hella sporty, and make her hella butch. This is a girl who actually uses her gym membership, and she is almost always in workout gear of some kind. She's gotta be tough, she's gotta be badass, and she's gotta be hot. (I love butch Adversary so much, you don't understand)

Tower... well, she was pretty simple. Power suit, perfect jewelry and heels, pantyhose, professionally-styled hair, definitely enjoys wine. I struggle to write her because on one hand, I don't want to make her an egotistical monster, but on the other hand... well, it's difficult to make her human and likeable without going too out of character. At best, she's more akin to a mean girl than anything else, and at worst, she's Karen-level. (Sorry, gorgeous.)

For Nightmare, I had two words: "cute" and "goth." Nightmare is totally the kind of girl who would dress up like a spooky doll for funzies, so she's got frills like Damsel, but a bit more understated---and, also, leaning way more heavily into black-and-grey than any other color. And yes, she has tattoos and vitiligo, because it just... works for her. She still absolutely slathers intentionally exaggerated makeup on her face, though.

For Spectre, I also wanted to go in a goth-adjacent direction, but I wanted her to be way more witchy and whimsical, creating a pastel-whimsigoth vibe that I think really suits her. While skull makeup was an option for this Picrew, I was already way too attached to the idea of giving Spectre round glasses in place of her... well, sunken eyes, and it turned out pretty nice. Also, if you're wondering about all the purple---don't ask me why I associate that color with her. It just fits.

Razor is always gonna be a punk-slash-metalhead to me, because that means I get the excuse to give her plenty of piercings, plenty of studded bracelets, and---not pictured in this Picrew---a gazillion chain wallets (the eagle-eyed among you will even notice that she's got metal in her hair, which was very much intentional). And as it's the most obvious with Razor, this might also be a good time to mention that, yes, I didn't want to make all of the Vessels white, because a) that's boring, and b) if Shifty's meant to represent the entirety of change and transformation among humanity, it stands to reason that if her Vessels became human, they wouldn't all be skinny blonde girls. I'm gonna get off my soapbox now.

And lastly, Stranger was... well, both hard, and surprisingly easy. I knew I wanted to make them plus-sized, I knew I wanted to give them vitiligo, and I knew that I wanted their "base" outfit to be as pattern-clashing, color-clashing, hurt-your-eyes busy as possible. However, that did mean that I ran out of colors to include preeeeetty quickly, which is actually something that can happen when you're trying to squeeze in every color at once. Still, though, the end result was quite cute, and I think it definitely captures their vibe. (Not pictured: their masc outfit with suspenders and a tie, their alt outfit with a black cowboy hat and old-fashioned jester makeup, their femme outfit with a big ol' hoop skirt and matching parasol, and their "no-effort" outfit with a slouchy sweatshirt and matching pants.)

[blazingstar29]

i've been cooking up some icemav headcanons:

ice isn't really a cuddler. he preferred brief touches until he met mav. but they're both touchstarved and whenever mav gets super worried or anxious, ice will pull him onto a couch or a bed or even the floor and just. hold him.

mav is good at survival. he grew up in the system, so he knows how to get cheap food, clothing, and transportation. he lives bare minimum. he didn't really have a lot of personal items, so he doesn't even know where to start. 

where mav has no idea, ice thrives to give people gifts to show his love. it starts small, with just a keychain or a pocket knife, but as he learns that mav has almost nothing luxurious in his life, it grows. he buys a rug for the living room, a mini fridge for beers, a tv, lawn chairs and a table for his patio.

Pete wears exclusively white tees and jeans until ice buys him a sweater. it's so soft and comfortable that pete demands to go with ice on another trip to the store. Ice, of course, buys him an absurd amount of clothing. he refuses to take no for an answer. 

while they're both as stubborn as donkeys, they never argue about cooking and food. mav’s so used to barely getting by that he can't argue with rich home cooked meals

and also an idea:

SLICEMAV RAISNG BRADLEY

omfg YES

I have this hc that when maverick is anxious at home he loops his fingers in ice’s belt buckles just to be close to him without disrupting what they’re doing.

the habit gets passed onto bradley who unwittingly does the same thing to jake

i hc that maverick will spend money but he’s an anxious spender so it has to be something he knows he’ll love and care abojt for a while (i.e that out of sight out of mind fic i wrote aged ago lol) so he finds it hard to spend money on clothes because he’s always in a uniform at work

ice is a giver but esp if he finds touch a little harder because he still wants to express love

food is the easier language for the both of them <33

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

make it sapphic part two: lexthan

(paulkins) (lautski) (... ted) (masterpost)

this one just kind of feels like essentially canon even more so than the paulkins one this is just them sorry idk what to tell u @femslashfortnight

genderswap breakdown below cut:

i’m so sorry mariah-ethan truthers, i swear i’m one of you, i swear, but i’m legally required to make ethan the most italian-american woman you’ve ever seen in your life

deeply out of character hair care routine like it would be so much more convenient to cut it shorter or thin it out but she’d rather die (and lex would kill her)

the cornicello is a everyday requirement (obviously) (i’m convinced in any universe she also has gifted lex one that she wears under her shirts)

her and lex are that one lesbian doing make up meme but like neither of them know what the fuck they are doing

almost always wears skirts over jeans exclusively because everytime i watch black friday i think ethan’s flannel is a skirt over his jeans

her and lex share a lot of clothing 

she still works in the garage with her dad but it’s something that was absolutely a long standing argument, where, like, when she was a kid her dad always let her help and hang around because it was ‘cute’ but when she because a ‘woman’ and actually wanted to work there he got weird about it (once again i’m just projecting the most italian american energy onto this woman)