#i know it probably won’t happen or won’t happen for like a few years

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - No winner.

Warning : drug and blood mention, talking about dying, stress

Genre : fluff / angst

Synopsis : You get anxious after the mingle game and Thanos tries to comfort you in his own way.

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English. // I said (to y’all in my head) I wouldn’t write for squid game or Thanos but this fic came to me as I tried to sleep. Not as great as how I imagined it but it’s because I had to wait a day to write it. Don’t expect more fics for this fandom, this was an exception.

You knew Subong since you were kids, before you even got to school and even before his interest in rap. But despite this, you always had an on and off friendship over the years. Constantly arguing and separating only to come back to one another after some time.

His extravagant personality could often clash with your introverted one, and things got even more unstable between you two when he started his rap career and it got only worse with drugs.

He never asked you for money though, even after he lost everything, knowing you too had money troubles.

You didn’t expect to see him here, you knew he had lost all his money because of that YouTuber, but you didn’t think that man would’ve gone after your friend. You felt a bit relieved to see someone you knew, though the last time you saw him, you two had a fight. It was your fault. You said, a bit too tactless, that ‘it was stupid in the first place to listen to some random guy on the internet and trust him with all your money.’

He had only appeared for a few seconds on the giant screen, putting his vape in his mouth, before it showed someone else. You looked around you, trying to make yourself a path to find him amongst the hundreds of people in the room. You spotted his purple hair and called him, as he turned around and saw you, his eyes widened.

“My man !” He exclaimed, raising his hands in the air, walking toward you. “What are you doing here ?!” He asked, grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you and then hugging you.

You weren’t really surprised, you’d often argue and leave mad only to see each other the next day and act as if nothing happened.

Since then, two days had passed, and by the third you were at your limit. The mingle game was over, Namgyu and some other player walked out of their room while you and Thanos walked out of yours.

“Welcome back, my friends.” Thanos said loudly, and Namgyu followed with a “Skrrt.” as he joined you two.

You sighed as you looked at all the blood splattered on the floor, you noticed a few players slipping on the puddles, making you sick to the stomach.

You all walked back to the lobby as they announced the imminence of the next vote.

While you waited, Thanos was sitting next to you, talking animatedly with Namgyu who acted just as energetic as him, you could tell the pills they had both taken were still doing their magic and the more you heard them talk about what the next games could be, the more you zoned out, spiraling.

There were three games left, and so many people were alive. Sure, a lot of them would die, but it won't be enough, right ? They surely won’t let a large group of people out of this place, so the games will probably be deadlier, and you know you won’t survive three more games.

You were the only one on the side of the room who had voted X, it was on your chest since the first vote. You looked at Minsu who eyed player 380, you knew he wanted to vote X like you, but he seemed too scared of Namgyu and Thanos to do so. Minsu seemed to look up to her, maybe he she voted X he would too ? But how could you make her vote X ?

So many people have voted O and all of them were dead set to keep on voting the same thing.

You felt even more trapped than you already were. Your heartbeat was increasing as you frantically tried to find a way out of here, to win, to escape somehow, looking around at whoever. Would he vote X ? And her ? And them ? No, maybe him ?

Namgyu saw you looking everywhere and gestured to Thanos who placed a hand on the back of your neck, stopping your thoughts.

“What’s going on my brother ?” He asked loudly, voice devoid of any stress or worry.

All eyes slowly turned to you. You looked at Thanos, the blue O on his chest. He never got mad at you for voting X, knowing you wouldn’t change your mind, you were as stubborn as him.

‘We’re all gonna die’. You wanted to say, but nothing came out. Instead your breathing got louder as everyone’s focus remained on you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re never gonna get out of here alive.

“Bro ?” Thanos called, his other hand going to your cheeks, squeezing them in hope for a reaction. “You there ?” He leaned closer, his eyes scanning yours but instead of giving him a reaction you just stood up and left, walking and climbing to your bed before hiding under the thin blanket.

Thanos looked at the others, they were as surprised as him but said nothing, they had already caught on what was going on.

“The fuck ?”

After a few minutes you heard someone approaching, climbing on your bed and laying next to you. You already knew who it was ; Thanos.

“What’s wrong, man ?” He asked, shaking you slightly. “Sleeping your anxiety away ? You’re still doing that ?” He laughed, remembering the time you admitted why you took so many naps.

You don’t respond.

“Come on, what’s going on ?" He nudged you again and with the lack of response he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer just to annoy you, he knew you wanted space, but he wasn’t going to give it to you.

“What’s bothering you ?” He held you tightly as you shifted, trying to pull away.

Finally, you gave up and poked your head out from the sheet, looking at him with a glare.

“Subong, we’re gonna die.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Woah, full government name.” He chuckled.

“It’s not, and I’m serious. It’s logical, so many people are still here, 001 kicked your ass in a second and he’s still alive with his group, with two marines, we can’t all survive, why would they allow that, only a handful if not just one is gonna survive and it’s not gonna be-”

“I’ll protect you. Don’t worry.” He said with a smile, confident in himself as he patted your head.

“You really think you can win.”

“It’s the rules, if we survive, we’re free. And debt free.”

“What if the rules say we have to make teams of two ?”

“I’ll help you win. I went with you in the mingle game, remember ?”

“But then we have to play against one another and the loser of the two dies.”

He stared at you before smiling and replying.

“Well, I guess you die.” He wiggled his eyebrows and booped your nose with his finger.

You rolled your eyes, unamused and turned away.

“I told you, I’ll protect you.” He added, snuggling closer to you. “We’ll survive, you’ll see.” He closed his eyes, relaxing with a smile.

“Can you let go of me ?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes, moving your foot to kick him, only for him to kick you back.

“Shhh, accept the affection of the great legend Thanos.”

“Yucks.” You replied with a chuckle.

[rinsthighsweat]

They enter your room while you're changing

Rin, Sae, Shidou, Isagi and Nagi | masterlist

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin is the epitome of stoic focus, but even he isn’t immune to awkward situations.

His first reaction is pure instinct—he freezes, his gaze immediately snapping to a neutral spot on the wall to avoid looking at you.

Despite being used to seeing teammates change, your presence makes this different and oddly unsettling for him.

He mutters a quick, cold apology like, “My bad. Didn't know you were in here,” and walks out briskly without a second glance.

Internally, Rin is irritated—partly at himself for walking in and partly because he can't shake the minor embarrassment from seeing someone he respects in such a vulnerable state.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Sae Itoshi

Sae is calm and composed even in awkward moments, rarely flustered by anything.

When he enters and sees you changing, his first response is an indifferent glance and a neutral comment like, “Oh. Didn’t realize.”

His nonchalant attitude stems from years of experience in locker rooms, but there’s a flicker of politeness in how quickly he turns away and gives you privacy.

Sae doesn’t overthink it. Once he's out of the room, he moves on as if nothing happened—he’s got bigger things to focus on, like perfecting his play strategy.

However, if he notices you're embarrassed later, he might quietly mention, “Relax, I didn’t see anything,” just to ease any tension.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Ryusei Shidou

True to his chaotic personality, Shidou’s reaction is anything but subtle.

He smirks as soon as he realizes what’s happening, leaning casually against the doorframe instead of immediately leaving.

“Whoa, looks like I walked in on a show,” he teases, winking playfully without a care.

Despite his antics, Shidou respects personal boundaries when necessary. After a few seconds, he laughs it off and finally exits the room, though not without a final, cheeky remark like, “Next time, send an invite.”

He finds the whole situation amusing and will probably tease you about it for a while but knows when to drop it if you seem genuinely uncomfortable.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Yoichi Isagi

Isagi is quick to turn red with embarrassment the second he realizes what’s happening.

His polite instincts kick in, and he stammers an apology like, “Oh, crap! Sorry, sorry—didn’t mean to!” while immediately averting his eyes.

He practically trips over himself trying to back out of the room, fumbling to close the door behind him.

Even after leaving, he’s still flustered and mentally berating himself for the awkward encounter.

Later, he might approach you nervously to apologize again, assuring you that it was an honest mistake and that he didn’t actually see much. His sincerity is evident in how earnest he is about clearing up the situation.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Seishiro Nagi

Nagi is often too lazy to react dramatically to most situations, and this is no different.

He steps into the room, blinks slowly when he realizes you’re changing, and tilts his head with mild confusion. “Oh. You’re changing?”

His nonchalant demeanor might come across as insensitive, but it’s genuinely because he doesn’t see what the big deal is.

After a brief pause, he shrugs and calmly turns around, walking back out without a fuss.

Nagi won’t bring it up again unless someone else mentions it, in which case he’d probably just shrug and say, “Yeah, stuff happens.” The awkwardness doesn’t linger for him because he sees it as just another minor inconvenience in life.

[antivanlights]

I have WRITTEN MORE about this concept. It's like 1k words so I'm adding a cut on this one too... Oh, Illario.

Alright, so I’m thinking that in this scenario Illario would obviously go through a rollercoaster of emotions. At first, he could just play it cool, flirty and stupid casual. Their “thing” happened like 8 years ago (I picture my Rook to be around 30), so they’re basically total strangers now anyway, right? Their interactions are brief and they dance around each other with ease. He doesn’t particularly care about Rook, nor their plans immediately. Figures they won’t get very far, certainly not with his possessed, traumatized disaster of a cousin tagging along. Fighting against gods? He’s giving the group a month or two, tops.

MEANWHILE: Imagine how Rook would feel by falling for a Dellamorte again. I’m sure they wanted to bash their head in against the fish tank in their room upon realizing how totally smitten they were. Perhaps the first few flirts were playful - just a Crow following the script. But as they continued to get to know Lucanis, Rook realized how different he is - how lovely. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he fights really cool doing all sorts of stabby flips... but he’s also hurting and he needs support and Rook wants to do everything, anything they can to help and AARRGH! Now all the flirts are real and Rook can imagine a life with Lucanis while Viago’s familiar voice is echoing in their head: Idiot!

Back in Treviso Illario is actually smug, entertained even when he discovers that Rook and Lucanis have something going on. “Ah, my cousin seems to have taken a liking to my leftovers.” On top of that, a part of him is making it all about himself. Is Rook entertaining Lucanis to get back at me? How fun.

But unfortunately for Illario, the bond between his cousin and Rook is very much real and he is NOT a part of the equation in any shape or form. Rook’s team keeps securing victory after victory, and his cousin is looking more alive than ever. Demon aside (Why isn’t anyone complaining more about the demon? Hello?), Lucanis is now surrounded by friends, regarded as a funny and generous companion (What?), and he and Rook keep giving each other these looks. So now he’s feeling jealous. And a tiny part of him is terrified of the thought that all this happiness and glory could have been his. What if he hadn’t toyed around with Rook? What if things had somehow worked out and he had been the one to join Rook’s team? Would he be smiling like Lucanis? Would he be on a completely different path? A better one?

He catches Lucanis glaring daggers at him from the distance one day. Does he know? He probably knows. (I picture Rook telling him about the disaster with Illario, and Lucanis telling them about the embarrassing thing with Viago in return one evening over wine and snacks.)

So when his schemes fail and he falls to his knees, bloody and disgraced in front of his cousin, he accepts Rook’s disdain. And yet…

SCENE!

Rook entered the heavily guarded wing of the Dellamorte villa, nodding at the guards as they made their way to Illario’s room. He was being kept at the villa for questioning, but Rook figured that this was also another way of protecting him. That said, they were keenly aware of the magical wards set at every door and window – most likely set to incapacitate or eliminate Illario if he tried something.

Pushing open the door to his room, Rook stepped inside. Illario was sitting at the edge of his bed, just staring out towards the balcony he could not step out into. Upon hearing the door and the accompanying steps, he turned to watch as Rook casually made their way inside. Rook closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Rook spoke first, arms crossed against their chest.

“Won’t lie, what you did was horrific and they should’ve probably cut you down on the spot.”

Illario threw himself back, laying on the bed while his feet dangled off the edge. “Ugh, is that all you came here to say?”

The was a brief pause before Rook let out a breath. “Nah. What I wanted to say is that as horrific as it was, you were exactly who we were trained to be. I get it, I guess…” Rook turned their face to look towards the balcony before they continued. “My point is… You can make a choice now.”

Illario audibly scoffed, propping himself up on elbows to look at Rook. “Are you suggesting I can still be redeemed, Rook?”

Rook shrugged but did not meet his gaze. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Illario opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Rook met his gaze and they remained like that for a few seconds.

“I’ll get going now, have a meeting. I’m usually around if you need someone to talk to. As a friend. Just let your guards know and they’ll find me.” Rook quickly turned around and exited to room, the door shutting gently behind them.

Illario lay there, half-stunned as he stared at the door. “Friend?”

END SCENE!

So after that I feel like Rook, Lucanis, Viago and Teia will continue their work to reform the Crows into something less… exploitative? They’re an assassin’s guild, sure, but the constant infighting, cruelty, and awful training/recruiting tactics made for a terrible business model in long need of change.

At some point, they’ll likely let Illario out of his containment unit and just tell him to help out with a ton of things (under careful supervision). I’d like to think that at this point, he’d start to come in regular contact with all the companions and members from their allied factions. Eventually, he’d have the opportunity to forge genuine friendships. Maybe one day he’ll pull through a tough situation and save everyone’s asses.

Later on, he’d be able to make a choice for himself, for his future - be it within or out of the Crows. Though he’d probably have to fake his own death and forge a new identity to get away from it all. But I’m sure the team would help.

Alright that’s all I got this time. Thanks for joining me in this pit of lunacy.

Imagine how wild it’d be if Illario were Crow Rook’s ex. I know it’s crazy but listen: the drama of it.

Full conspiracy-theory level rambling under the cut.

Imagine Rook, long before they got their nickname, working their way through their training, a proud new member of House de Riva. They’re talented, but reckless and naïve. Viago does what he can to instill discipline and wisdom on his charge, but he’s not a miracle worker.

At the same time, Illario is perfecting his skills, mapping out his ambitions. They meet out of pure coincidence, but Illario’s attention immediately clings to them – what a pretty, new toy he has found. His charms work and a young Rook is dazzled. Perhaps its their naïveté, perhaps they’re still trying to find some good in the dark alleys of Treviso. Unfortunately for them, it’s over as soon as it starts.

Rook is promptly left alone to their thoughts – heart broken and personality hardened. “I have better things to do. Bigger plans to follow.” Illario will say as he walks out on them, content with having gotten to play with the pretty toy, content with having broken it. “We have never met. You understand, right?” With that, he will leave, never waiting for a response.

Now, Viago won’t know the full picture, but he will understand that something happened. He’s no stranger to situationships and he will feel that this one was bad. From there on, he will make sure that his protégé’s business never crosses paths with that of the Dellamorte’s. Rook’s career in the Crows will continue with them never coming into contact with anyone from the House – for better or worse.

Years later, Rook is in front of Caterina Dellamorte. Rook and Illario play their parts: they have never met. Viago will play along. It’s none of my business, he’ll think.

But now imagine, Lucanis is alive and well - he's even reached an understanding with his demon. He has found true companionship and love with Rook – and its real. By the Maker, it’s real. Illario can see how they look at each other, how they fight together. Their smiles, their discrete touches. By the end of their adventures, Lucanis has also gone and freed their home, saved the world and secured the seat of First Talon.

Meanwhile, Illario sits alone in a room on the far edge of the villa. Marked as a traitor, completely disgraced. All his plans failed. He’s angry and he’s jealous and he can remember how Rook feels under his touch.

And all this misery? It was dealt by his own hand.

[secretlysamcro]

Unspoken feelings

Part 1

Female Reader x Jax Teller threatening & explicit language, drug use, possible spoilers. If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show, easily offended or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: Hey! I loved your recent Jax fic. I would love to see one with a reader he has loved since they were kids but nothing had ever happened between them, until she comes to him knowing he will protect her when she needs him. Thank you 😊

Back story: y/n and Jax had a special bond that went back to childhood. Growing up together, you were practically inseparable, forming a tight trio with Jax and Opie. The three of you were like three pieces of the same puzzle, As time passed, things began to change. You had a few relationships during your teenage years - and so did Jax, but none of them too serious enough to last, Until Wendy came along. There had always been a push and pull between you and Jax. An unspoken tension between the both of you that had never been acted upon. All three of you now are grown up and getting on with your own lives dealing with your own shit.

Jax has had an on and off relationship with Abel’s mother, Wendy since their teenage years. The divorce has just been finalized and Wendy who is once again hooked on drugs has been forbidden from seeing Abel. Jax has made it clear that he won’t be allowing Wendy to see their son until she is completely clean.

Time has passed since your last conversation with either boys, and you can’t help but notice how disconnected things have become. It’s as if distance has grown between you, leaving only brief exchanges of casual interactions and small talk. The close bond no longer existing.

Y/N: Hey Jax, haven’t heard from you for a while, thought I’d message but I know it ain’t easy being king and ur probs just wrapped up in the club but I hope everything’s ok. Hows Abel and Wendy? He must be getting so big now, nearly four right?

Jax feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he takes it out, he’s sees nothing but your name on the screen. A small but genuine smile creeps on his face.

Despite the distance, he’s always appreciated the thoughtfulness of you, sending messages on special occasions. Birthdays, memorials, Christmas etc and also checking in from time to time. He tries his best to do the same, but club responsibilities and being a father often get in the way, leaving him with little time.

Jax knows that your mention of Wendy is more of a polite gesture than actual well wishes. The two of you never saw eye to eye in your youth, she always noticed how Jax paid close attention to you, even if you weren’t always aware of it.

A few years ago, you had the unwanted privilege of escorting Wendy to hospital, alongside Jax, as you had found her OD’d on heroin, whilst heavily pregnant with Abel. This was a main factor as to why you and Jax had become so distant, he never wanted to hear you say ‘I told you so’ when it came to Wendy, so he took a step back from you, finding it hard dealing with married life, when the person he really wanted to be with, was you.

[flashback to the night Wendy OD’d]

“Any updates?” You ask Jax, as you step back into the hospital waiting room, getting off the phone from informing Gemma of the situation. “Your Moms on the way, she’s just leaving Luanns”.

“She’s stable, but said they need to keep an eye on her-” Jax’s sentence is cut short as you immediately chime in.

“I don’t give a shit about her, what about your unborn child?” You hiss at him, knowing he knows full well you couldn’t give a fuck about Wendy.

“Drop it y/n don’t be like that, not right now” Jax says in a firm warning tone. You’ve heard this side of Jax a million times, just never towards yourself.

You roll your eyes at him, knowing now probably isn’t the time to tell him you were right about Wendy all along. You both sit down in the waiting area; as you wait for any sort of news.

About 15 minutes later, the corridoor door opens and in walks another doctor. Pretty and tall, her hair clipped up to keep it out of her face. Jax would recognise her from a mile away, and so did you.

“When did she come back?” You ask, slightly scoffing whilst looking at Jax as you both stand up, ready to hear what she has to say. His facial expression displaying the exact same question.

“Tara?” Jax says, as she gets closer, she ignores the fact that you are standing alongside Jax. Another one of Jax’s love interests you never got along with.

“Her hands and feet were full of tracks, toxicology reports aren’t back yet, but it’s most likely crank” Dr Knowles tells Jax, as you stand comforting him. Holding his hand gently with your own.

“The baby?” Jax says frantically, grabbing back at your hand now, eager to hear what Tara has to say.

Tara takes a deep breath before letting Jax know the news. “We had to do an emergency C-section. He’s ten weeks premature”

“Holy shit” Jax says, looking towards you in disbelief.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask Tara, as she finally makes eye contact with you.

You hear the faint sound of footsteps coming from behind as Tara continues to talk.

“He’s got a congenital heart defect and gastroschisis… a tear in his abdomen. The gastro and early birth are from the drugs but the CHD is-”

“The family flaw” Gemma says, as she stands behind you, overhearing what Tara has to say.

Stepping back, you give Jax and Gemma their privacy to continue the discussion with the Dr.

You wait anxiously fidgeting as the minutes pass by. From the corner of your eye, you notice Tara assisting another patient. A few moments later Clay walks in, heading straight in the direction of Jax and Gemma.

As soon as Tara is out of sight, you hurry down to the ICU. You join Gemma and Clay, quietly watching as Jax holds his tiny new born for the first time. A small smile on his face as you lip read the words he whispers to his baby boy. “I’m your old man”.

Gemma turns as she senses your presence. “Hey sweetie” she says softly, rubbing your shoulder gently. “Thank you for getting them here so quickly, I can’t thank you enough. I don’t even want to imagine how things could have ended if you hadn’t rushed that junkie whore over here in time”

You place your hand over Gemma’s, a silent agreement with her words. “You’ll let Jax know I’m thinking of him?” You ask Gemma, Clay nodding at you beside her. “And congratulations… Grandma…” you look over at Clay smiling “…Grandpa” you turn around, taking one last look at Jax and his son, before leaving the hospital and Charming once again.

[end of flashback]

You never knew this, and nobody else did apart from Jax and Opie, but the only reason he ever got with Wendy was to distract himself from not being able to have you. Not being brave enough to admit the feelings he’s had for you since you were kids. Wendy seemed like the easiest option. In hindsight though; he wishes he had never even met her, but then he wouldn’t have Abel, and he’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

You were equally at fault though; you never expressed your true feelings to Jax in fear of rejection. Instead, you observed from a distance as he got involved with Tara, witnessed his heartbreak when she left for Chicago, and saw him meet Wendy; which eventually ended in pregnancy and marriage. All of this led you into a pressured relationship, pulling you away from your hometown, your friends and family, and from Jax.

Jax thinks it’s best not to mention anything about his divorce, or Wendy's current situation as he knows you’ll have something to say about it, so he keeps the text short and brief. Almost as if he hardly knew you.

Jax: Hey y/n. All good here. Keeping the club in line ain’t easy. Abel’s nearly 4 ur right, hope you’re doing well.

Your expression changes to a frown as you read Jax's text message, noticing how sharp and cold his tone is, far different from the Jax you remember. You make a decision to reach out to Opie, thinking he might have some insight into what’s going on with Jax.

Y/N: Hey Ope, hope you and the family are doing well. Just messaged Jax and he seems a bit off? Is everything okay? Was thinking about you all today I might come down soon for a few days. If you’re both around. Let me know!

Opie reads your text and laughs, having a good idea that jax hasn’t filled you in on the details of his recent divorce. He glances over at Jax who’s already in a shitty mood and remarks, “You still haven’t told y/n?” He says, as he brings his cigarette back up to his mouth.

Jax looks puzzled when Opie accurately guesses that he hasn't shared any recent news with you. Opie tosses him the phone, and Jax scans through your text message, as he realises that you're completely in the dark about his recent life developments. “She ain’t around any more so what does it matter? She left to be with that asshole and hasn’t looked back since” Jax says as he chucks the phone back to Opie.

“Did you expect her to wait around for you?” Opie says, shaking his head in Jax’s direction.

“What do you mean wait around for me?” Jax stares out Opie.

“Nothing” Opie hushes, knowing that silence is his best option. He had always been the mediator of the trio - since you were kids, Jax would relay information about you to Ope, whilst you would share your thoughts about Jax with him too, leaving him in the middle of the unspoken love between the two of you. He knew how hard it was for Jax to see you strutting round with other guys who weren’t him, and he knew how hard it was for you when you found out Wendy was pregnant and soon to be married to Jax.

Opie can feel the burn from Jax’s side eye, quickly thinking of something to say, Jax knows that Opie is aware of his feelings towards you and the reasons behind his defensive attitude when it comes to you. Opie uses this opportunity to remind him that it’s not your fault for being oblivious to his emotions. How are you suppose to act upon his unspoken feelings?

Opie bluntly tells Jax, "Maybe if you had the guts to tell her how you felt about her, she'd still be here, and you wouldn’t be stuck with a drug lovin’ ex-wife".

You were always considered like the little sister Opie never had, and that protective instinct had carried on into adulthood. Even if you weren’t as close as you once were. Which is why he still felt the need to defend you in your absence.

“I’m just saying…didn’t think she’d care to know” Jax says, banging his box of cigarettes on the table, knowing he has nothing to say in his defence as Opie is 100% right. He still doesn’t quite understand what Ope meant by you waiting for him though.

"Her coming back to see us only means one thing anyway…” Opie continues, “…she’s probably finished with that douche so she’s finally allowed to come back and see us” He begins replying to your text.

“Well it can’t be that bad… she packed up her whole life for him…” the jealousy in Jax’s tone shining through. Opie smirks and shakes his head towards the jealousy presented by Jax, as he sends his reply to you.

Opie: All good here thank u y/n. Cnt speak for Jax he’s in a world of his own. Lmk if ur planning on stopping by… you bringing your old man? would be nice to see u. It’s been a while. Lylas heard all about u and wants to meet u. - Ope

You roll your eyes at Opies question about your ‘old man’. Hiding your own love life, you don’t respond to the text at all, but internally making the decision that you were in fact going to visit.

It's only been a few days since your breakup, and your ex is currently crashing at his friend's place. However, you don't want to be there when he returns, knowing that it could lead to another confrontation. You grab your laptop, eager to find a place to stay just outside of Charming. You know that anyone from home would have let you stay with them whilst you’re in town, but you decide to do this bit on your own. So you don’t waste any time reading reviews. The first place you see is only about 10 minutes from the clubhouse and, best of all, it’s cheap. Decision made. You’ll be back in Charming sooner than you thought.

[The next morning]

You collect all of your essential belongings, packing them in a hurry and carefully loading them into your car. You don't even bother with any unnecessary or replaceable items, knowing deep down that your departure is final.

You miss everyone back home and crave the familiar faces, even if things have gotten a bit…awkward lately. Leaving well early in the morning, the drive back to Charming took about an hour. Giving you the perfect chance to clear your head. Thoughts of the future swirl through your mind, uncertainty and questions. You wonder where you’ll go, what you’ll say if someone asks about your situation and how you’ll handle the inevitable “we told you so’s” from the ones who saw through your ex’s charming nature before you left to start a new life with him.

He was a narcissist, completely consumed by his own reflection and oblivious to anyone else's feelings or needs. Everything revolved around him, and only him, Of course when you first got together he was the complete opposite. The ideal man for you, the one who convinced you to leave Charming and your familiarity behind. Part of you knows, deep down, that he was also a big reason you stopped keeping in touch with the boys as much as you should have.

He knew about the bond you shared with Jax and Opie, Jax especially and he hated it, hated the way they had your back in ways he never could. On the rare occasion when you were all present in the same room, he saw how protective Jax was of you, how he looked at you and how you looked back at him, in the exact same way.

Jax watches as Opie takes off his helmet and dismounts his motorcycle, Jax swiftly doing the same thing.

“Yo… Ope…” Jax calls out to Opie, as he moves towards the clubhouse. “y/n text you back?” He shouts out.

“Nah, heard nothing back from her… maybe try calling” Opie says, with a tinge of cockiness, knowing Jax would feel a way about calling you and also not wanting to be the middle man any longer.

Before Jax can even argue the idea, Opie walks briskly back into the club house, leaving Jax to ponder his options. Jax sighs as he mutters to himself, “I guess I'll do it,” scrolling through his phone's contact list to find your name. His hands tremble ever so slightly as he holds the phone to his ear, waiting anxiously to see whether you answer or not.

you take a deep sigh as you settle down onto the bed, after carrying the last of your belongings into the motel room. As you glance around, you take in fragments of your life scattered about. Little items that you had brought with you from the place you used to share with your ex. You have no idea what the hell you're going to do from here, but at least here is home, in Charming.

Your phone starts ringing, and you're certain of who it is. You take your phone out of your pocket and roll your eyes at the sight of your ex's name lighting up the screen. It can only mean one thing, he has finally realised that you've moved on and won't be coming back. You ignore the call placing your phone back on the bed. As the call ends, it rings again. You pick up the phone getting ready to block his number, but this time a different name is displayed across the screen.

“y/n?” Jax says in a low tone, Jesus Christ how you missed his rough voice.

“Hey” Is all you manage to get out. Actually hearing him speak after so long has made you feel somewhat… nervous.

Jax can’t help but smile at the other end of the phone. He can sense that you were caught off guard by his call.

“Uh… Ope mentioned that you might be coming home soon… I was just calling to check when… you know, if you are” he says, fumbling over his words.

“Yeah I…-I’m actually already here… well sort of…” you laugh lightly.

“Oh shit… when did you get- wait what do you mean sort of?” He questions, confused by what you mean.

“I’m like 10 minutes out, staying at the Rockstaff motel”

“A motel? You staying there with what’s his face?” Jax can’t even bring himself to use your exs name, it humours you slightly.

“No.. I- it’s just me…” you refrain from going into detail.

“So why are you staying at a motel? You should have called me when you got here. You know you can always come here…or to any of us”

“I know, I know, I just wanted to surprise you guys, like old times… you know?” You rush to explain, not wanting Jax to discover that you’re actually planning on living out of said motel whilst you get everything in order.

“Hmm, always full of surprises you are” Jax’s laughs, walking towards the clubhouse now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You retaliate, slightly defensive.

“Nothing” he snaps back with an awkward laugh. “How long you plannin’ on staying for this time anyway?”

You can hear the attitude in his tone, the way he states ‘this time’ because the last time you saw him was that night Abel was born, and you left without personally saying goodbye.

“Ahhh so that’s why you’ve been so cold with me the past few years, because I never said bye?” You question, wanting to clear the air of all awkwardness.

“Something like that” he says, clearing his throat as he scratches the back of his neck “You gonna swing by today at some point or-”

“Yeah… if not today then tomorrow” you let Jax know, unsure if you’re willing to brave the awkwardness today or not.

“Okay… cool. You’ll let me know yeah?” His protectiveness still peeking through. “You sure you’ll be ok at that motel?”

“I’m a big girl Jax, I’m good” your words come out through a slight smile. You hear him laugh faintly as he disconnects the call.

As you sit with all your feelings and emotions rolling through your mind, you think it’s best to meet up with Jax first and hash out this weirdness going on between you both, you don’t want it to be over your heads whilst around anyone else. Just as you’re writing out a text, one comes through.

EX: what the fuck all ur stuff is gone wtf are u playing at y/n answer the fucking phone.

And another.

EX: where the fuck are you y/n

And another.

EX: do u think u can leave me! U stupid bitch

And another.

EX: u think im stupid dnt u? Wait till I fucking catch you stupid biker whore

‘Biker whore’ you repeat out loud, you have no idea where that had even come from, you hadn’t associated with them for the past 3/4 years, so why he’d mention that, you were clueless. Threats from your ex weren’t out of the ordinary so you weren’t really phased by the texts he had just sent - he doesn’t know where you are, so you’re safe…right?

You continue looking for Jax in your recent contacts, and begin to message him.

Y/N: Hey, just wondering are u still at ur old place? and are u free right now? I’ll come and see you but if not will just catch up tomorrow with everyone else. Lmk

His reply was quick.

JAX: yeah same place. I’ll be home in about 20 minutes if u wanna come by now.

As you pull up to the once familiar address, you see him waiting for you outside, sitting cockily on his bike, foot balancing on the exhaust and a cigarette In hand. a smile slapped across his face, almost as if he’s as excited to see you as you are him.

Part 2 will be on the way! Apologies for being gone for so long, I’m back & writing again, so bare with lol.

GIFs, photos & music do not belong to me.

Jax Teller masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[galariangengar]

💭

[gr8ntaire]

who else up having their heart broken by the Prost documentary, btw,

[nathsolkyoako]

I read the shit I wrote yesterday and like. Dude this is Weird

[gregmarriage]

oh, random thursday in october, i wish you’d go fuck yourself <3

[heartual]

calling my doctors office on a whim to set up my appointment before i talk myself out of it and their office is closed boooo

[sharkieboi]

okay so talk with boss today was good despite my extreme nerves. went to her this morning and straight up asked “hey for my own sanity is this conversation important because of something good, bad or neutral. did I mess something up or is this a regular check in.” and she immediately apologized and reassured me that she had been teasing and didn’t mean to make me nervous, she had good things to say and just wanted to check in and ask how things are going.

then during the actual meeting later she brought up the subject of promotions? and said we would talk about it more at my annual review, but if I was interested in moving into more leadership roles on the team we could talk about what that would entail and what that would require from me.

and ngl I was extremely surprised? and lowkey flattered? I didn’t think she would consider me for a Senior position at all, especially since I haven’t directly expressed interest in it. so she’s considering me before I even expressed any interest. and it’s. well. it’s interesting.

[the-bluestreak-cat]

I think it’s the seasonal darkness but this dental stuff feels like the last straw

[the-physicality]

this election discourse reminds me so much of finals discourse…. (Obviously much higher stakes but)

[exopelagic]

just take this

[maikaartwork]

Artists, let’s talk about Instagram commission scammers

There’s been a huge rise in commission scammers recently, mostly on Instagram. A lot of new artists don’t know what to look out for, so I figured this might help people.

How they begin

Usually the scammer will write to you asking about a commission. Something deceptively cute - mostly I encounter asks about pet portraits, with one or two photos sent. They’ll probably try to sell you a sweet little story, like “It’s for my son’s birthday”. They will insist that they love your artwork and style, even though they don’t follow you or never liked a single piece of your art.

What to look out for:

Their profiles will either be private, empty, or filled with very generic stuff, dating at most a few years back.

Their language will be very simple, rushed or downright bad. They might use weird emojis that nobody ever uses. They will probably send impatient “??” when you don’t answer immediately. They’re in a crunch - lots of people to scam, you know. 

They’ll give you absolutely no guidelines. No hints on style, contents aside from (usually) the pet and often a name written on the artwork, no theme. Anything you draw will be perfect. Full artistic freedom. In reality they don’t really care for this part.

They’ll offer you a ridiculous amount of money. Usually 100 or 300 USD (EDIT: I know it might not be a lot for some work. What I mean here - way higher than your asking price, 100 and 300 are standard rates they give). They’ll often put in a phrase like “I am willing to compensate you financially” and “I want the best you can draw”, peppered with vague praise. It will most likely sound way too good to be true. That’s because it is.

Where the scam actually happens

If you agree, they will ask you for a payment method. They’ll try to get to this part as soon as possible. 

Usually, they’ll insist on PayPal. And not just any PayPal. They’ll always insist on sending you a transfer immediately. None of that PayPal Invoice stuff (although some do have methods for that, too). They’ll really, REALLY want to get your PayPal email address and name for the transfer - that’s what they’re after. If you insist on any other method, they’ll just circle back to the transfer “for easiest method”. If you do provide them with the info, most likely you’ll soon get a scam email. It most likely be a message with a link that will ultimately lead to bleeding you dry. Never, and I mean NEVER click on any emails or links you get from them. It’s like with any other scam emails you can ever get.

A few things can happen here:

They overpay you and ask for the difference to be wired back. Usually it will go to a different account and you’ll never see that money again. 

They’ll overpay you “for shipping costs” and ask you to forward the difference to their shipping company. Just like before, you’ll never see that money again.

The actual owner of the account (yes, they most likely use stolen accounts to wire from) will realize there’s been something sketchy going on and request a refund via official channels. Your account will be charged with fees and/or you get in trouble for fraudulent transactions. 

You will transfer the money from your PayPal credit to your bank account and they will make a shitstorm when they want their money back, making your life a living hell. They will call you a scammer, a thief, make wild claims, wearing you down and forcing you into wiring money “back” - aka to their final destination account. 

Never, EVER wire money to anyone. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Use PayPal Invoice for secure exchanges where the client needs to provide you with their email, not the other way around.

You can find more info on that method HERE.

What to do when you encounter a scammer:

Ask the right questions: inquire about the style, which artwork of yours they like, as much details as you can. They won’t supply you with any good answers.

Don’t let the rush of the exchange, their praise and the promise of insanely good money to get to you. That’s how they operate, that’s how they make you lose vigilance. 

Don’t engage them. As soon as you realize it might be a scam, block them. The sense of urgency they create with their rushed exchange, and pressure they put on you will sooner or later get to you and you might do something that you’ll regret later.

Never wire money to anyone. Never give out your personal data. Never provide your email, name, address or credit card info. 

Don’t be deceived by receiving a payment, if you somehow agree to go along with it. Just because it’s there now doesn’t mean it can’t be withdrawn. 

Here is a very standard example of such an exchange. I realized it’s a scam pretty fast and went along with it, because I wanted good screenshots for you guys, so I tried going very “by the book” with it. 

Please share this post, make it reach as many artists as possible. Let young or inexperienced artists know that this is going on. So many people have no idea that this is a thing. Let’s help each other out. If you think I missed any relevant info, do add it as an rb!

Also, if you know other scam methods that you think should be shared, consider rb-ing this post with them below. Having a master post of scam protection would AWESOME to have in the art community.

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[caitlinsnicket]

sevika relationship headcanons

warnings: smut by the end, that's probably it

a/n: i sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She would never tell you this—not in a million years—but something stirs inside her chest whenever she manages to tower over you in any way.

You might be resting against a wall, and she comes by your side to say something, her arm staying just a few inches above your head (and you pretend it doesn’t do something to you deep down). When she realizes how close you are, it’s like a punch to her gut, and she quickly makes some excuse to leave before you notice her dilated pupils.

After the two of you get together, she loves to tease you and make sure you’re aware of the difference between the two of you (pervert). If you ask her about it, she’ll just say she likes how strong it makes her feel. But it’s not just that: it’s how much cleavage she gets to see, how much of your scent she gets to breathe in, and how easy it would be to just throw you over her shoulder and carry you off wherever she pleases.

She won’t ask you outright, but she always pats her lap to invite you to sit on it—whether it’s during one of her games, at a party, or during a meeting to organize something. She wants to have her hands on you at all times, making sure you’re content and pretty.

There are also the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you and nothing bad is going on. She’ll climb up until she’s almost on Piltover, your hand in hers. She’ll sit down against a pillar, pull you to her until you’re sitting between her knees, her chin resting on the top of your head, lighting up a joint if she feels like it.

She can feel your heart beating against her chest, nothing else happening, and she wonders if this is something she can actually do—something she can actually deserve. But the lights are shining, children are playing and laughing, and you’re almost purring in her arms, so it’s okay.

Even after she’s used to the relationship, she gets flustered when you hold her by her waist, run your hands over it, or simply rest them there. It’s not just the promise of further touches (God knows she loves those), but also the possessiveness she sees in your eyes. It’s different from what she’s used to—not just being needed, but also wanted.

She loves to watch you fuck yourself on her strap, smoking a joint with her mech arm while her other hand plays with your ass.

She’s an active participant as well, but there’s something so thrilling about your desperation and your need for her.

When she eats you out, she always goes overboard, and you end up pulling her hair really hard. She stops what she’s doing and glares at you before telling you to go harder, then dives right back in.

She likes to pull your lips apart just to watch you clench around nothing.

She loses it when you wear those short, skintight skirts that barely cover your ass in public, your eyes making it clear that whatever you’re doing, it’s on purpose.

She sits you down on the stool in front of her, spreads your legs, and fingers you right then and there until you’re clutching her arm for dear life, trying to suppress your moans.

She licks her hand clean before taking you home.