#inside my head feels like a rats nest

[guppygiggles]

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[bunnys-kisses]

hey!! can i please order a blueberry muffin with an espresso shot and maybe a vodka shot on the side, served by danny ricc? thanks!! x

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then check out the menu! there is something for everyone and i love getting new orders! i am currently hard at work trying to get through all the current ones! as for this one, i have gotten a few for ricciardo and i've been looking to write him more so thank you for your order!

blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) + vodka shot (rough sex) served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, dirty talking, sleepy but rough sex, desperate!daniel

the summer break felt good. you were exhausted, so you could only imagine what your boyfriend of the last few years was feeling. the back to backs was wearing him down so it was nice just to be sprawled out in his apartment in monaco.

daniel's strong arm draped over you as you stayed snuggled up next to him. the sun shined through the large window and you two stayed tangled up in one another.

you opened your eyes a little at the feeling of the sun against your face. you then sighed and rolled over to face your lover. soft kisses on his cheeks slowly woke him up.

"happy saturday, my love." you said.

he smiled a little, "happy saturday, first saturday we've had together in a while." if he wasn't racing then he was practicing for racing or traveling. there had been very few moments since the season started where you two simply existed in each other's presence.

it was comforting, it felt like home.

he went in for a kiss on the lips purely by instinct, he sighed contently when your lips pressed against his. he kept those arms wrapped around you tightly as you both laid in bed.

he kissed at your face more and you melted into his touch. your eyes went wide for a moment as he put you on your back and looked down at you. you could see the tinge of pink across his cheeks and he chuckled a little. "still look as beautiful as ever. even with bed head." he rubbed his morning hard on against your front.

you made a small noise and felt a curl of pleasure in your gut. you looked up at your lover and smiled, "i mean you're alright. the morning breath is a bit much." then laughed when daniel started to tickle you.

"i want to make up for all the times we were apart. with you at work and me on the track." he knew very well that he made enough that you would never have to work again, but you were determined to be a productive member of society. but, sometimes he wished he could take you away to the track and have his good luck charm there all the time.

you reached up for him and started to take his t-shirt off. the sight of his bare chest made something grow warm inside of you. it was like every time you saw him, even with the nicks and bruises from racing. he was still so painfully hot.

you got your head up on the pillows and got off your sleeping shorts. it had been so hot in the city that you two were basically sleeping in your underwear most nights.

he got his own shorts off and rubbed his underwear clad cock up against your stomach, pre-cum staining the front of his briefs. he groaned, "were you always this beautiful, i mean, you always were beautiful. but there's something about you right now that is just getting me so turned on."

you chuckled, "i think you're just half asleep, my dear. how about once i tame the rat's nest of my hair.

"nah, nah." he leaned in closer, and worked to get his cock out of his underwear, "i like the rat's nest. my sleepy baby wanting to get fucked out." he planted a kiss on your cheek, "i don't think it'll fit. i think my girl's cunt is too small."

you whined, "c'mon, danny." you rolled your hips and little to entice him. and it made the blood all rush to daniel's cock, you noticed it and looked up at him with such a sweet expression, "if you don't fuck me, no one else will. because i only want you, so it's not fair if you don't fuck me."

daniel felt a pain in his chest and his cock bob. he swallowed and said, "that's what i like to hear, babe." he stroked his cock a little bit and eyed your naked form. stripped of all clothes now, and so beautiful.

he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his exposed cock up against your wet slit. there was something about having sex so early in the morning, with nothing else on the schedule. just the two of you.

he groaned a little bit, "this is all mine." daniel's dirty talk was something else. as he rubbed up against you, his tongue went wild, "so pretty under me, letting me fuck you so early in the morning. you're such a good girl for me. you are meant for me, and only me."

you felt the pleasure pump through your body. you grit your teeth for a moment as you felt him slip his cock into you. despite his initial remark, it did fit.

he moved against you slowly, he found his heartbeat in his ears as he rocked against you. he could feel the heat of pleasure in his head as he moved against you. you were just so painfully good under him.

his bulkier frame crowded your space, it made you feel small against him. he loved the feeling however, you were so sweet under him. painfully adorable in a way that he couldn't fully put into words. all he knew was that he wanted you, he yearned for you so badly that he didn't know what else he could besides bury his cock into you with a quickened pace.

he had you pressed further into the bed as he held you by the hips. he groaned, those big hands on your soft skin, moving you to his liking as his cock bullied against your sweet, slick pussy.

"i love you." he said as he swallowed back his pleasure.

you looked up at him, your eyes a little hooded from the sleep and pleasure. your cheeks felt hot as you said, "i love you too, please, danny. i need you."

he chuckled, "don't worry, babe. you got me, you got me until the day we die. you're my forever." he kissed at your face, feeling the heat pool in his gut as he moved against you.

the feeling between you two was hot as the two of you fucked in the morning light. you whimpered a little and felt the pleasure in your brain.

his strokes were rough as he fucked you on the bed. you held onto the covers tightly as he pushed his cock as far it could reach. and even that was deep enough for you. he leaned in to kiss you passionately as he thrusted his cock in and out of you.

his strokes were rough and they made you see stars. he loved when he bullied his cock into your pussy. the sight of you was beautiful when he pleasured you. he tensed his jaw for a moment before he said, "you're so painfully hot, babe. look at you, all needy under me."

you whimpered, "please, danny."

he chuckled, "i've got you, babe. fuck, you feel so good under me. right where you belong."

his words made you flushed as he continued to move. you felt the heat of orgasm through your system.

"fuckin' hell, danny!" you whined as you arched your back a little.

he picked up the pace and watched your grip onto the covers under your back. he admired the sight of your nude body under him. every curve, mole and mark was just beautiful to him. it made the blood thump in his ears as he kept his cock buried in you.

he swallowed and felt a shiver run through his body as he continued to thrust up against you. it was music to your ears, when you let out a sweet moan as you climaxed. his kept his gaze on him as he panted wildly.

"so beautiful."

"i love you." you panted.

he chuckled, "i love you too." then quickened his pace to meet his own orgasm. his cock buried as deep as it would go as he fucked you into the bed you shared. his pace was rougher, and his tongue felt looser as he said, "i only want ya, no one else can have you while i'm still alive. you're my girl, my one and only. from those pretty eyes to your prettier cunt. the way it takes me so well." he gasped before he came inside of your sweet slick pussy.

he slowed down his pace to a stop and kept his cock inside of you. he was still pretty hard, his heart was thumping heavily in his chest. he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, that was one way to wake up.

you laid there, blissed out under him. he licked his lips at the sight of you and felt his cock twitch inside of you. he smiled down at you before he laid you on your side to get comfortable back into bed.

he slotted himself behind you and spread your legs. he sank his cock in once more from behind. not to rut against you, but to just hold you. to be comfortable next to you. he wanted to feel close to his woman, his beautiful light in his life.

while you both laid in bed, so intimately close, the sun shined down on both of you. you two were perfect for one another. <3

[lixlikes]

You will know no greater peace | Astarion/Tav(Reader) | Angst/Comfort

Info: Comforting Astarion when he begins to disassociate during sex, based on that one cutscene with him and Halsin with the drow twins, Gender neutral Tav as always :) TW: SA mention, trauma, comfort, descriptions of trauma/SA Based on a Bloodweave comic by @/sunflowerdales on Twitter/X!

Your hands are warm against his cold skin as he pumps inside of you at a slow, yet unsteady pace. As your eyes creep open you meet his gaze, his eyes glazed over as he stares blankly into space, lost in thought. You drop one hand to stop his hips, the other still planted gently on his cheek.

"Astarion, my love" You call softly, as not to startle him "Are you alright?"

He jumps slightly, frantically painting his face with a smile full of fake warmth "Yes my darling?" He responds in his usual seductive tone.

"We can stop for now if you'd like." You smile, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. He gasps slightly at the touch, leaning into it with a sigh.

"I'm sorry my dear" He seems to almost break, his eyes closing as his body begins to loosen.

"Don't apologize my love" You rub his back as you softly coax his head against your chest as he reluctantly pulls out of you. His hair has a small knot in the back where your fingers would thread themselves through for support, using gentle fingers you brush it out.

His breath slows as you feel his ear press against your chest, his hands on your sides with a small grip, almost as if he's afraid you'll slip away. You tuck a loose lock of silver hair behind his pointy ear and hum softly, a song you commonly hear him humming to himself in moments of stress or discomfort.

It's almost magical, how his body fits perfectly against yours, how all his muscles relax at your touch.

"Do you mind me asking what's the matter?" You continue to lavish his head with soft rubs and massages.

He groans softly "I guess I.." He sighs "Thought that since, I was the one who had the idea to do this" He frowns "I had no right to ruin the moment and stop halfway, I've gotten so used to just forcing myself through it.."

You nod, kissing his head tenderly "Even if you ask for it, hell beg even, but suddenly want to stop, you have every right to" You reassure him "I could never be mad at you for voicing your discomfort."

He mumbles in appreciation, unsure of how to respond.

"Besides, there's otherways we can be intimate!" You motion to his body pressed against your own "This for example" You chuckle lightly.

He looks up at you cautiously, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, threatening to roll down his face.

You kiss his eyelids softly, brushing nonsense shapes into his back with a soft pressure.

"You're here with me ok?" You whisper "You're safe" you emphasize as his chest inflates and collapses against you with soft cries.

"I love you, even in a world where we could never have sex, I would be the happiest person on this planet" You chuckle "Hells every planet for that matter."

He laughs softly along with you, a loving smile spreading across his face "You are the best thing to ever happen to me, not even being able to relish in the sunlight could compare to how I feel being with you."

You dramatically gasp "Why I compare to the sun?" Your eyes widen jokingly.

He kisses you softly to shut you up.

As the kiss breaks you both stare into each others eyes, mapping every crease, crack, wrinkle, and shimmer.

"Perhaps we can go to that hot spring we found not too long ago and have a bath?" He nearly whispers as he runs a hand through your rats nest hair.

"I'd love nothing more."

Even if one is to say yes at the start, they have all the right to change their mind.

[fungifanart]

Deserted

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, male reader, yuu!reader

CW: Heavy angst/whump, slight suicidal ideation

Word count: 1K

Notes: Did you guys know that Leona is my favorite character? (Also, @oleilaa got mad at me when I didn't tag them in my last Leona-related fic)

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Somehow, Leona knew that this is how it would all end for him.

Trudging alone across a barren desert, the hot sand slowly burning the bottoms of his bare feet beyond repair, his once proud and well-maintained mane now a rat's nest caked with more sand.

He turns his dry eyes up towards the horizon, hoping to see even a mirage of an oasis just to revel in the illusion of hope, but his mind won't even grant him that much. So he lowers his gaze back to the ground, he doesn't have a destination in mind anyway.

Should he go back to his home? What home? His "home" is nothing more than a large building full of people who hate him and reminders of all of his failures and shortcomings. In that sense, his home is just one big prison.

And he'd rather die than go back there.

So he keeps walking. In no definite direction. All while his hunger and thirst eat away at his insides and the harsh sunlight beats down on him from above.

This must be punishment for the Spelldrive tournament. The karma for his scheming, sabotage and lashing out has finally caught up. And it's going to be the death of him.

After what feels like hours of painful walking with no end in sight, Leona's legs finally give out. Leaving him no other option but to use his hands to drag himself across the sand on his stomach.

This is unequivocally the lowest Leona's ever felt: Aimlessly dragging himself across a desert he feels no greater than a grain of sand in.

However, just as Leona's arms are beginning to give out as well, he hears the sound of light footsteps approaching and looks up to see a familiar-looking face crouching down in front of him and extending a helping hand. Though, his eyes are too dry and tired to recognize who it is.

A few seconds of blinking later, his eyes finally adjust enough to fully make out the person's face, recognizing him as the prefect of Ramshackle dorm who's smiling like nothing is wrong as he holds out his hand.

Leona's eyes go unfocused again as he questions how he came to be here and, more importantly, why he's reaching out to him now.

Why is the Prefect reaching out to Leona: The man who put him through so much, almost taking his life in the process, and used him as a simple pawn on a chessboard before leaving him by the wayside?

Does he...really forgive him despite everything?

One more look at the Prefect's comforting smile and still outstretched hand gives him his answer: The sun positioned perfectly behind the other man's head to create a halo around it, giving him the look of a saint.

And that's what he is to Leona.

A saint.

A savior.

An angel.

His angel.

Leona finally musters the strength to reach out and take the Prefect’s hand...only for cracks in his skin and the color of sand to quickly spread all over the Prefect’s body, starting from where Leona had taken his hand.

Leona frantically lets go of the Prefect, but it's already too late. In the Prefect’s place stands a sand sculpture of him, still holding out its hand with a no longer comforting smile, which then crumbles into another pile of sand, indistinguishable from the rest surrounding him.

His body forces out whatever water it has left in the form of tears as the realization hits him.

He was a fool to have hope.

This is who he is.

Destroying things, reducing them to sand no matter what or who they are, is all that he's good for.

Who's to say that this entire desert isn't his handiwork as well?

His despairing cries echo over the area as the wind picks up, sweeping up the Prefect’s remains into a sandstorm that swirls around him almost mockingly.

Leona's body curls itself into a ball as his cries continue, growing more labored as sand invades his mouth and throat, drying them out and causing him to cough more than cry, wishing that his signature spell worked on himself as well.

The wind howls in his ears as this happens and he swears he can almost make out the sound of malicious laughter at such a pitiful display.

This new torture goes on for what may well be hours or even days for all Leona knows. He has to keep his eyes closed to shield from the sand and the sandstorm is blocking his view of the sun regardless.

This is truly his personal hell.

However, an unknown amount of time later, the laughter dies down before completely disappearing, taking the sandstorm with it with what sounds like a defeated sigh.

Leona opens his eyes, blinking the sand out of them as a more grounded set of footsteps than before approaches and he feels a hand take his and lift him up onto his feet, which suddenly feel normal again. In fact, everything about him feels normal again!

Looking at his savior, Leona is shocked to see the Prefect once again. However, his face bears much more mixed emotions than before, the forefront of which being...pity.

"I can't stay mad at you." He says with a sigh while turning away, "So I'm giving you one chance to wake up and get out of my sight."

Leona doesn't move or say anything, still too surprised over this development to even attempt waking up from this apparent dream.

A few seconds pass and the Prefect looks back at him with an incredibly frustrated expression, "Didn’t you hear me?!" He says before winding up to slap him.

"WAKE UP!!!"

The moment the Prefect’s hand connects with Leona's face is when he jolts awake, sitting up in his bed in Savannaclaw, with the only remnants of what he'd experienced being a dry feeling in his throat and a dull pain on his cheek.

[maggie-margret-blog]

Friends with Tattoo Benefits

Mingi was one of those guys you just couldn’t replicate. he had a sort of passion for life that was kinda hard to find in people.I had been seeing him as an artist for a little over a year now, slowly but surely filling my arms and mid section with ink. He was talented and enthusiastic about each new project I threw his way, may it be big or small. Mingi himself only had a handful of tattoos littering his milkish skin,but claimed he was in it for the arts, not the personal experience. I had a theory he was just a bitch about pain or needles, nevertheless I never bothered him about it during our sessions. And he couldn’t lie about the money either. It was good fucking money.

Mingi had become somewhat of a best friend, mixed in with all the other things that come with being in close contact for so long.

We had first met that one fateful morning, 2am to be exact, when I had decided that drunk tattoos would be a hilarious idea. In hindsight it was a wonderful memory and honestly I was better for the experience. My young, college ego had been inflated and a stupid decision was just what I needed to keep my head on my shoulders. The night had just begun for me and my friends, bar hopping and partying at each frat house we could bare to see the inside of. All the ones I had seen prior were rat nests, and yet I chose to place myself there. A few of my friends had tagged along one Friday in search of some of my famous shenanigans. Modesty forbid I ever keep my thrills to myself.

“C’mon let’s dip, this place sucks.” Renel quoted as she threw down a pink solo cup onto the frat house floor. We had only been there about 30 minutes and already we were feeling the effects of poor party planning. A dozen or more drunk college girls stood in a tight circle, grinding on any available guy, and in some cases other gals as Salt Shaker boomed from the shitty stereo system. Since the Ying Yang twins weren’t the vibe for the night, I wholeheartedly agreed- “Let’s get the fuck out!”

“I’m barely drunk! Give me a fucking minute!” San hollered over the loud music, grabbing onto Renel’s ponytail and stopping her from moving any further towards the door. “There’s smoke in my eyes, this drink taste like dog shit and my thong is literally splitting my asshole in half, San.” Renel growled as she swatted his hands away. “That’s your fault. Just take it off and sit down.” He laughed, knowing he was only egging her on. “Fine, here-“ Renel said smuggly as she reaches under her sequined skirt, pulling the lacey garment down her legs and stepping out of it. “Woah Ren-“ I began, on my for her to grab the thong and shove it in San’s pocket. “I’ll go sit down.”

“San you asshole.” I laugh lightly, never quiet getting over those two’s battles. “Remind me to give this back to her. If Yunho ever finds out I have his girlfriend’s thong in my pants, he’ll kill me.” He chortles. “I don’t think I will. You deserve a beating.” I joke.

“Tryna get rid of me?”

“Maybe.”

“He’s twice my size. I’m dead.”

“You’re a good guy, you’re fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m heading out. I’m meeting my friend downtown.” Hongjoon, another one of chipper friends, said as he pushed past us towards the exit. “Who?” I called out as the sixth drink I had been nursing finally began to hit me. Whatever this shit was was weak, and disgusting. Yet, I was still drowning my weekend stresses in it.

“Mingi. You know that tattoo guy I was talking about.” Hongjoon enthused. This guy was always so happy for some reason. “Are you getting a tattoo?” I asked again.

“Yeah why? You wanna come?”

“I’ll go. Anything to get me out of here.” I agree hastily as I set the solo cup I had been drinking from down. “I’m drunk enough I’ll go.” San called, as if he hadn’t been complaining of the opposite just minutes ago. “Go tell Renel.” I bark as I follow Hongjoon out into the yard.

Once San and Renel had caught up to us, we were already halfway downtown, passing bar after bar and collectively agreeing that we should all go to each one. “If we keep this up I’ll literally never make my appointment.” Joon whined as he threw back one last shot. “Fine, okay let’s go.” San gave a unionized answer for us all. “Mingi’s gonna kill me. He’s supposed to be closing and I’m already 20 minutes late.”

“We’re almost there Joon, calm down.” San said with a hint of a slur. With that statement we came up upon the shop. The neon light was already off, but a man sat at the counter with his head down to scroll on his phone.

“Hey Mingi! Sorry I’m so late!” Joon said sorrowfully as he brought his hands together and bowed shallowly. “Hey, no don’t worry about it. I was just chilling out.” The man spoke as he raised from the counter and reached out for Hongjoon’s hand. The whole place reminded me of a mechanic’s shop. Sort of industrial and gray, but art was strewn across the walls and a few neon light had been added to spruce up the place.

The size of this man had me speechless, though my drunken stupor may have exaggerated it. Mingi was maybe 6’0 and broad in the shoulders and chest. I could tell by the way his black compression shirt stretched over his muscles, rippling in their definition. With the buzz already prominent in my head, this man looked like a playground to me. All I wanted to do was climb him. I could feel a flush flooding my cheeks as he and Hongjoon giggled and joked over sketches and last minute ideas. I could just play it off as a liquor blush, but I knew it was because of him. Fuck he was attractive. He was just so big and handsome.

“Shouldn’t take too long. Maybe an hour.” Mingi said softly as he looked over the small design. It seemed to be just a simple spiderweb with a few intricacies.

As soon as Hongjoon laid down on the sterilized bed, he was snoring. Joon had never once been awake during a session. Either this was a result of the alcohol, or the pain was a sickening comfort for him. Either way he was out. I spent m my time, however, inspecting the artist and the way he did every little thing. His gloves were blue like they had at a doctor’s office, tight and defining over his veined hands. The tips of his thick fingers were gripping the gun firmly with a controlled pressure. His focus and precision were evident in both his work and how he carried out his task. Why was everything about him so alluring?

“Joon? Are you good buddy?” Mingi asked after working on the piece for a good hour. It was swollen and puffed, but I could already tell it would heal beautifully. “Yeah, I’m cool.” Joon said groggily.

San and Renel were sleeping across the waiting room chair at this point, San’s jacket draped over Ren’s legs. That’s small detail made me chuckle. Sure they had their differences, but if she was naked from the waist down in public, he’d protect her. “Dude sick, thank you.” Joon said as he looked over his Achilles heel, now inked and decorated. “No problem man. Now pay me and go home.” Mingi laughed lightly as he pushed Joon towards the front.

“How much?” I asked as an interception. “Hm?” Mingi cocked his head to the side as I stood from my seat, still a little wobbly from all the alcohol in my system.“How much for a small tattoo? A really little one.” I asked. I hadn’t known how I would get close to him, but this was the perfect opportunity. This way I really inspect him up close. Stare deep into his concentrated expression and analyze his eyes. Oh fuck, those eyes.

“Uh, all depends I guess. Why, do you want one?” He questioned as he handed Hongjoon a pen to sign his receipt. I nodded vigorously as I popped up from the plastic chair. I had no clue what I was doing, or why I just agreed to get a tattoo on the spot, but here I was. “Cool, give me a minute.” Mingi said with a smile, showing off his row of beautiful teeth. They weren’t straight but who cared? Not me! He was so cute!

“We’re gonna head out. I’ll get her back to Yunho.” Hongjoon said as he shook Renel awake for a minute or so. “Okay,” I said shortly as a twinge of turmoil erupted in my stomach. Sure this was kind of what I wanted, to be alone with this new hunk, but now I was alone alone? My body shivered involuntarily, spine tingling and adjusting at the thought. “Where’re you going San?” My voice was timid, a gleaming ray of hope in eye as i asked. I was praying that he could be talked into staying with me. “I’m going home so I don’t die. You know how Woo is if I’m not in before sunrise.” I only nodded at the statement as the unsettling feeling began to sober me. But I couldn’t pass this up!

“This way m’lady.” Mingi’s voice broke my illusion of loneliness as all my prior thoughts raced back in. He was the reason I stayed anyway. “Thank you.” I punctuated with a head nod as we walked back to where Hongjoon had just been napping. “Now, what’s going on? What’re we doing?” Mingi asked as he sat back against the counter, arms crossed to expose the few tattoos he had. Though not plentiful, they were big and loud. The one he sported on his left forearm was a colorful mural of what seemed to be hyper realistic squid. The body was red and luminescent with a somewhat manly aura somehow. It was an interesting choice for sure, but it was executed beautifully so I had to admire it for that reason. His right arm was detailed in black and white, a few odd and ends tattooed on his skin, probably to represent certain things. I did notice a small KQ prominent on the first knuckle of his index finger. KQ had been a music club hosted on my campus for years.

I laughed internally at the thought of this big, beefy man singing in a choir, or performing The Newsies at the campus theater. He didn’t seem the type. “Anything I guess. Maybe something coquette-ish.” I babbled, unable to tear my eyes away from Mingi’s form in front of me. I stood sheepishly in front of him, a facade of confidence saving me face, but only a little bit since I was still kind of drunk. “Coquette-ish? Like the frilly bows and Victorian shit?” His voice reverberated is low bass over the air. I watched his mouth and nose as he repeated what I had said, then nodded. He nodded along and choked down a chuckle.

Mingi drew up a tiny little design, detailed with a small, pink ribbon tied into a bow with a pearl accent. It was actually very cute and even my sober mind loved it. Something tiny and coquettish. I was so happy with it.

“You know I don’t usually do walk ins.” He said as he etched a stencil. “Oh? Why start tonight?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, feeling the heat rising from his body. “If I’m being honest I thought you were cute. And I’d rather you get a good drunk tattoo instead of one you’ll regret.” He chuckled lightly, but my face turned red at the mention of his attraction. He thought I was cute? “Now where do you want it?” Mingi asked as he turned to look at me, now just inches from my face. I had practically been his shell for the last 15 minutes as I watched him sketch, so the sudden movement surprised me. I stumbled backwards a bit, and was sure to fall of Mingi hadn’t gripped onto my belt, pulling me back to stability. His hand was nestled between our two bodies, now practically sandwiched together. I couldn’t help myself as the moment dragged on, but I looked forward at the chest I was now level with. Traveling upwards, my eyes met his. They pooled with a twinge of worry and one other emotion I couldn’t quite express. “Sorry,” I mumbled briefly as I stepped back, only for his hand to stay firm on my leather belt. “No, no it’s okay. Are you alright?” He questioned, unmoving from his position. “Y-yes I’m fine.”

The air was thick and heavy around us. The room wasn’t too big so that might have had something to do with it, but probably not. It was more likely the tension between us that simmered. His hand stayed on my belt, even going as far as to tighten his grip. “How drub are you?” He asks suddenly.

“I’m, I’m practically sober.” I answered.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N-no I don’t.”

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“Tattoo shop.”

“Be more specific.” He hummed lowly as his hand pulled me closer, my hip flush against his thigh.

“Flaming Ink, downtown Astoria,” I answered again, quieter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked finally, lowering himself to my level so he could see my expression clearly. My face was burning as it was, so for him to face me directly turned me to mush. And to kiss him? Oh fuck I could’ve vomited with how nervous I was!

I nodded slowly as the larger man braced my jaw in his palm, gently pulling me forward and pressing a hunger pained kiss to my lips. I was taken aback by the way he was already desperate for the contact. To be fair, so was I. The kiss only lasted about 3 seconds before he pulled away, lips parted and eyes droopy. The flecks of his dyed hair fell into his line of sight. The image in front of me was borderline erotic to say the least. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were nowhere near finished.

Hastily, my arms found perch on his shoulders and I reconnected our lips, lapping at the pillowy petals and melting as he returned the favor. He tugged me closer, hands finally leaving my belt and landing on my waist, pulling my hips to his own. This was all too much yet I couldn’t (wouldn’t) stop myself. I had only wanted him for an hour or so, but that was an hour too long with out him.

Our lip lock progressed into something else entirely, and what that was I didn’t know. Something primal. Something languid and wet. Before I could count his teeth with my tongue, his hands were burrowed down the back of my jeans, fingers gripping at my ass haphazardly. The hum of the overhead lights was enough of a lullaby to keep us in the moment. Soft murmurs from the radio entwined around us and took the lead. “Mingi,” I said hushly, placing a hand on his chest. Oh finally I got to feel it. The muscles tensed under my touch and I watched the nipple harden from under the shirt. “Hm?” He acknowledged my plea and stopped himself. “I’m sorry it was all so fast, I-“ he began to explain himself, hands leaving my behind.

“No, no keep it there. I’m just— kinda you know, worked up.” I heaved as I kept eye contact with him. Those eyes, those honey brown eyes. Somehow the orange and yellow tendrils of hair complimented his eyes perfectly, encasing them in a warm, golden light. He was beautiful.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” His breath fans over neck slightly.

“Yeah, just not used to it.” I admit.

As far as sexual experiences went, I was dim in the subject. Yet, this was fueling a fire I never knew I had.

“Do you wanna stop?” Mingi asks as he’s pulling away.

“No! No I don’t want to!”

With that answer, Mingi was back to exploring what was exposed of my skin. Hands, finger tips, nails. I could feel everything as he lit each of my nerve endings on fire. Each swipe of his tongue left a burning trail in its path. “Fuck-“ I whispered internally, somehow finding my hands curled in his hair, entangling in the locks and pulling at the roots. The feeling of his lips on my neck made my stomach turn and twist with excitement.

How could this happen so fast? How was this really real? Was I dreaming?

No I couldn’t be dreaming. I could feel Mingi’s curious hands pushing up my shirt, folding the fabric upwards and letting it pool onto top of my breasts. Mingi pressed open mouthed kissed on my chest, tugging cheekily at the lining of my bra, teasing the nipple as he let it free. “Pretty.” Mingi’s voice vibrated against my skin, sending shivers down my entire being. Never in a hundred years could I explain myself and my behavior. I hadn’t been this kind of girl. Sure I partied and went a little crazy sometimes, but I had been strict with dating and sex. I never fucked on a first date. Hell, we had just met, never even went out. Renel would never believe me if I told her what was happening.

My brain was fuzzy as we continued in some sort of soft foreplay. His thick fingers had found their way down the front of my jeans, rubbing generously on my stiffening clit and entrance. My breath hitched as one found its way inside of me, petting at the spongy g-spot. I couldn’t keep my knees from buckling under that sort of pressure. I remembered stumbling around in an attempt to find something solid to hold onto, or at least steady myself on as he rid me of my clothes. I could remember removing his skin tight shirt and finally getting an eyeful of his sculptured physique. He was carved artfully as if by a woman with taste and experience. My hands explored his torso, slowly but surely making their way down my boxers. I ran a polished nail down the shaft of his throbbing cock, only to grab the entirety and grace it with a few passing pumps. His belt and jeans found themselves on the floor along with mine.

I had no time to feel the inevitable embarrassment. “Mingi-“ I moaned as he took the initiative to set me on the table, lips now working down my stomach and hips. A strong hand pushed gently on my chest and gestured for me to lay back and I followed with no hesitation. The icy sensation of the vinyl coating made me shiver, but I recovered as soon as his fingers hooked to the hem of my panties. My breathe caught in my throat, Mingi dragging the garment down my legs and letting them fall where they may.

“You’re sure you’re good with this?” He asked once more, looking down at me from his standing position. His eyes were soft and concerned but I could tell he was barely hanging on. His lids sat halfway across his iris, cutting off the light to his eyes. He looked dark and sexy, but alluring. The tattoos that weren’t apparent earlier were now proudly on display.

I only reeled back slightly at the sight of his miniature. Well, you could hardly call it miniature, but you know what I meant. The dick held itself proudly, the tip a dark pink and mushroomed, while the rod was stained a lighter hue, coursing with a few deliciously placed veins.

With as tender of intentions as possible, I reached to caress the decorated man’s chest and feel the heat emitting from the skin. He was as soft as satin, the feeling becoming addictive against my fingertips. His hands traveled to meet mine, bringing the appendage to his lips and leaving a few short kisses on the palm before holding it above my head. Our fingers intertwined as his other hand cradled the soft underside of my knee, pushing it upwards.

“I’m sure.” I said finally, eyes meeting his and he came closer, pressing gentle and reassuring kisses to my cheek and neck.

“Good,” he hummed.

Another blurry moment flashed as he said a few sweet things then continued to move his body. Soon enough I was in a comfortable position with a hand in his and one helping him push inside. My head fell backward as a silent sigh left my lips. Oh shit. “Oh Mingi-“ the words fell fluidly as he breached past my entrance. The stretch alone brought me back to reality, only to be pulled back into whatever sensual scene this was as he began to adjust. His breath was low but not indistinguishable, I could tell he was already feeling good. A second or so passed in silence until the pit in my stomach had grown twice it’s normal size.

“You can move.” I say, slight circling my hips. A pained hiss left Mingi’s plump lips. He takes the bottom in between his teeth and nods as his hips break their isolation

I felt as though my lungs had been palpated, deprived of air and squeezed to the brink. I felt like I was drowning but I couldn’t stop this. This was all too good. Mingi moved with a steady rhythm and intensity. His hands roamed my chest, poking and prodding at my breasts and using them for leverage for his powerful thrusts. I almost felt ridiculous as lewd noises leaked from my throat. My body shook with excitement and my voice was shaky with adrenaline.

“So cute. I can’t fucking stand it.” He growled next to my ear as he punctuated each word with a particularly sharp thrust. I couldn’t believe I had come here to accompany Hongjoon on a drunken tattoo venture, and ended up fucking the artist.

His motions grabbed me as wild, someone with experience in pleasure. Mingi’s body was following a natural progression as the bulbous head of his well endowed cock nestled against my cervix with each violent bash of our hips. A slight shake wracked my muscles and joints as the pressure and endurance of our position grew tiresome. I was exhausted but so ready to reach a peak with him. Coils tightened in my abdomen when Mingi’s voice sounded, moans and small grunts of praise echoed from him.

“Fuck-so good-“ he panted into my neck as his body curled around mine, encasing me in a lustful embrace. Mingi’s toned arms wrapped around my shoulders and waist while his forehead dropped to my collarbone. I could feel the change in angles as he hoisted my torso upwards to meet his, somewhat suspended in air. The erratic pace and movements of his hips reminded me of some crazed animal in heat. I felt the same way though. My body was craving each and every thing Mingi would give to me. His now harsh grips left marks on my skin that I wild find later; they’d bring back me memories of this night and how desperately I would be chasing a feeling like this again.

Creaks and screeches wailed from the legs of the table, yet Mingi couldn’t have cared any less. My arms gripped around his waist, in a way, propelling him forward. “Mingi!” My voice grew weaker in the moment. I was coming close.

“Mmm- fuck…” Mingi groaned against my skin, lips flattening to my chest and hair falling messily over my shoulder. I let my body speak for me as the intensity of his movements and brought me higher and higher. My walls closed around him, clenching in an effort to warn him that I was there. “Mingi! Uh! Gonna cum-“ I moan directly into the man’s ear, hoping to affect him the way I wanted to. “Mm- go ahead baby. You can cum.” His breath was hot as he lifted his head to face me, pressing a kiss to my lips as he quickened his pace. I couldn’t stop the chorus of moans, colored in shock as he pushed me over the edge.

I lay in waves of bliss. One surge after the other. If I was being honest, I had never cum first in any of my previous encounters. This was a once in a lifetime experience for me and I wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful.

Mingi stalls briefly before sighing in satisfaction as he pulls out of me. My body immediately misses the weight of him inside of me, closing around nothing but air and slick ejaculat. My chest is heaving as I caught my breath, warm fuzzy feelings filling my body. Never had I ever had an orgasm quite like that.

It was soon interrupted at the sound of Mingi’s hand sliding over his still hard erection. I had been so caught up in my own pleasure that I forgot that he hadn’t cum yet. I peak downward at the beautiful man, his face scrunched a bit as he leans over my body. Without much thought I place my smaller hand in his. I can see a smirk forming on his lips as he allows me to help him rub his moistened dick. His eyes open slightly as we make contact, gazes holding intently as waves of pleasure flood his system. I never break eye contact as he reaches his final breath, our hands slow and a loud cry erupts from the man.

“Oh shit- oh fuck-“ Mingi mumbles quietly, forehead nudged to mine as he unloads on my stomach. I was quick to find Mingi’s jaw and yank his sight forward, our eyes meeting once again. “You’re so pretty.” I kiss him before he can answer my statement.

“Me?” He huffs confused. His string brow bone dips in concern of the comment. “Yes, you. You’re very pretty.” I reply, pulling him in for another kiss. “Thank you.” He says genuinely as heaves and tries to catch his breath.

——

“Soooo…. Do you still want that tattoo?” Mingi jokes as he holds the collar of my shirt open above me, placing it down over my head and resting it on my shoulders.

“I might have to take a rain check on that. I’m kinda tired.” My voice was hoarse and losing volume by the minute. A mix of drinking and calling his name for an hour would do the trick.

“Anytime, really. I do actually do tattoos. I swear. I’m not just a whore.” He laughs, looking down at me as I finish dressing myself and heave a sigh.

“I believe you.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll be back?” He questioned, flicking the light switch and opening the door for me. It was almost 5 am and I had no alibi for when Renel inevitably asks what kept me out so late. My cheeks flushed as I thought over the details. I might just tell her, just to see her reaction. If I knew anything about Renel, it was that she’d flip if I told her I fucked the tattoo guy.

“I’ll be back. For that tattoo and also… you know, if you ever wanna…” I led the the statement, looking down at my hands as he walked along side me towards the dorms. “I’m down. You know for tattoos… and… yeah.” He agreed. It was barely dawn, but I could tell his cheeks were as red as mine.

As soon as we reached my dormitory, I turned to face the man who had just made my night. I craned my neck upwards to face him. Gosh he was beautiful, especially in the light of the rising sun. “Thank you so much for tonight Mingi. And for walking me home.”

“Of course. Anytime, really. Have a good night.” He said gently.

“Or I guess morning. Have a Good morning.” He repeated. I chuckled slightly, placing a hand on his chest gingerly and pushing myself to stand on my tiptoes. I was hoping Mingi would get the idea and thankfully he did. His strong hands embraced me one last time as we shared a kiss. Nothing lustful or suggestive. A light, sweet, tender kiss.

“Have a good morning Mingi.” I said finally as we broke the kiss and I ran off towards the dorm doors.

“Tell me EVERYTHING!” A shrill voice echoed throughout the whole room as Renel surprised me at the door. My heart nearly burst out of my chest.

“Girl, sit down. You’re gonna love this!”

~The End~

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two

TW : Abuse of authority, alpha male, sexual harassment, the word “no” is not in this man’s vocabulary, nsfw, angst, forced proximity

After a hellish 24 hour shift, you’re starting to think you should have taken him up on his offer. Give me a foot rub then get the fuck out. However, it most definitely would not have ended at only a foot rub. You know yourself too well to think you can keep your grubby hands off that man in any sort of private, intimate setting. Yeah, you’re staying the hell away from Ludlow. 

It’s gross, but you don’t even take a shower, and pass out cold on the couch as soon as your rat's nest of hair hits the throw pillow. 

Dark, honey eyes welcome you to the land of unconsciousness. The place where you can’t control your disobedient vagina so easily. And, apparently, she liked Tom Ludlow a lot. Especially his hands. Fuck. Thick fingers, surprisingly gentle and teasing, tucking up inside you, coaxing at that sweet little spot you can’t quite get at on your own. His mouth swallowing your moans, tongue licking urgently against your teeth, practically eating you alive. Something hard and velvet pressed against your thighs. 

A loud knock wakes you up in the same position you started at. Face down on the couch, except now feeling even grosser because of the slick arousal between your legs. You stumble to the door, pull it open. It’s Ms. Higgs, your sweet next door neighbor. 

“Oh, hello, y/n, I heard…. Yelling? Is everything okay?” 

You look at her stupidly. “Yelling….?”

“Yes, it sounded like you were in distress. Sorry, is this a bad time?” She eyes your just-got-hit-by-a-semi-truck appearance, complete with gore and all. 

Oh. The dream. Oh… oh. You feel yourself freeze despite the embarrassed heat warming your skin. “Uh.” Yes, great, make her think you’re out of your mind. You try a terse smile. “Oh. Sorry. I had a long shift and I must have been having a nightmare.” 

How in the hell did you pass nursing school?

Thank God she looks like she wants to leave as soon as possible. “Right. Well.” Clears her throat. “I’m glad you’re okay. Have a good day.” She moves fast for an older woman, shutting herself back into the apartment next door before you can bid goodbye. 

Your neighbor now hates you, and you’re definitely blaming Ludlow for it. 

Shower, eat, masturbate. No, wait. Masturbate, then eat. No. Eat first so then you can masturbate as many times as it takes to get Mr. I’m a Pretty, Dark Eyed Cop With Huge Hands - 

You have to literally pinch yourself to stop this train of thought from turning into a derailed crash. 

Your plans fail miserably, and that is actually Ludlow’s fault, but you refuse to admit it. At least you’re eliminating two steps at once with the handy dandy shower head.

And then again after you eat. And then again in your bed. And, damn, you really need to invest in a vibrator like Sheila told you to do a long time ago. 

You don’t consider yourself a prude by any means; there’s just no time for adult toys or one night stands. Your job, more often than not, consumes your life, and you like it that way. The fast pace, the interesting medical anomalies you get to see, your funny coworkers, cute and oh so nice Dr. Julian who brings you all Starbucks on Sundays. You usually pick up more shifts than you’re scheduled, fueled by rising violent crime rates in the inner cities. There is a satisfaction in bringing someone back from the dead, especially someone young with their whole life ahead of them. Grim Reaper? Psh. Kiss my ass. 

***

Sometimes you need a break, and these next two days you have off are going to be that time away. 

Except, on the second day, you’re bored, so you end up going in for an eight hour shift. 

You have a bad habit of not viewing your patient’s info before you get into their exam room, favoring the ol’ fashioned method of actually looking at the person instead of a computer. As soon as you walk into your next assigned room, however, you vow to change your messy bitch ways. Handsome Cop - the one you refuse to admit you spent two full days rubbing yourself off to - sits on the cot, grinning at you like the cat that caught the mouse. 

You do feel a little bit like a tiny mouse under that hefty stare, scurrying in and going right to the computer so you don’t have to make eye contact longer than necessary - well, long enough for ruined underwear. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, did your stitches come open?” You try to maintain a strictly professional voice, but you can tell by the sharpening of his grin it’s not working. 

“What? You’re not gonna fight with me today?” 

“Do nurses fight people where you’re from?” Here you are, playing into his game. Stupid. 

“There she is.” 

Your jaw tightens. “What are you being seen for, Mr. Ludlow?”

“Ouch, surnames? Really?”

“Surprised you know what that big word means.”

His gorgeous eyebrow cocks as he looks around the monitor at you, and you tuck yourself further behind the computer to hide. 

“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up in surrender. Well, he puts his right hand up. His left can only rise so far into the air. “Yeah, I tore them.” 

“Can you show me?” 

He strips his shirt, revealing a long, toned torso that belongs in X-rated cinema instead of bed number 3 at the South Bay General ED. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, close your mouth or you’ll catch flies?” He asks. 

“It’s actually, shut your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” 

“Okay, how about this one: My eyes are up here, darling.”

First of all, you didn’t even look at his bare chest that much. He’s definitely exaggerating. Second of all, well - ugh - second of all fuck you, Ludlow. 

His stitches are busted open right in the middle. You have to unstick the bloody dressing carefully and then spray the center with some antiseptic. 

“You should be more careful.” Is it just you or does he smell different tonight? Less sweat and copper, more spice and cardamon.

You do your best to shake it off. Plenty of men wear cologne everyday–it doesn’t mean he got cleaned up just for you. 

“I don’t really have anyone to be careful for.”

“Get a dog?” 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“What why? I don’t know, blue?” 

“So I can pick out a collar you’ll like.” 

He’s joking, but the feral urge to jam your thumb right into his tearing wound is palpable. 

He realizes he fucked up when you don’t have a witty retort. 

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean that you’re a bitch.” If you’re giving him credit, he at least looks sorry. And sorry looks far too good on him. The big grinning Doberman turns into a wide eyed puppy dog and it makes your heart squeeze tighter. “I’m sorry. I just meant - hey, hey.” He tips your chin up so you can see the apology in his softened eyes. “I’m an asshole.” 

You flick his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” 

He must be hard of hearing, because he dwarfs your arm in his grip and pulls you closer. “C’Mon, little nurse. Now you have to let me make it up to you. Let me buy you a fancy dinner or something.” 

Pulling away is not an option, so you come up with a better idea. “Okay, fine. I will. If you can answer one question.”

He looks delighted by this. “Try me.”

“What’s my name?” 

You relish the sight of his smile wiping clean. The big grin transfers from his face to yours. 

“Seriously?”

“Well?” It’s your turn to raise a cocky eyebrow.

He tries to flip your badge frontward, but you slap his hand away. He’s quick, catches your wrist, pulls you closer so that your body is pressing into his calves, traps both of your hands in one of his and spins the badge so that he can see your picture and name. He repeats it, first and last, grins back with a vengeance. This little tussle really bruises your ego, because it doesn’t even seem like you made him wince or falter even once.

“Cheater,” you snarl. 

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Let me go.” 

“Make me.” 

“I’ll scream.” 

“Oh yeah you will.” He winks. 

Fucking sexy bastard. 

“Want those stitches worse or better?” You threaten. 

“I don’t really care,” he shrugs, eyes light with humor. “Just did it to come see you anyway.” 

“You tore your own stitches?” 

“No. Someone else did after I insulted their mother.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You put him back together once again (you might have to start calling this man Humpty Dumpty, that will put him in his place) and start to peel off your gloves. “So when can I pick you up?” he asks, those dark eyes shining like high-polished ebony. 

“Half past never?”

“Hey, we had a deal.”

“We did, but then you cheated. Manhandling me at work is a major disqualification.”

“Pretty sure you liked it,” he fires back with a smirk.

You sigh, propping a hand on your hip, because he’s not wrong. You’re more than a little touch starved at the moment, and you’re sure the ease with which he manhandled you will haunt your dreams (your poor neighbor!) and fuel your fantasies for weeks to come. But there’s just something about this guy that warns you not to give in this easily. He feels…a little dangerous. To your physical health, or your personal sanity, you’re not sure. 

“Please try to be more careful with your stitches, Mr. Ludlow. Have a nice day.”

Understanding that he’s being dismissed, he stands, one step in the small room bringing him right in front of you–and boy, does he tower over you. You try to conceal how very much you like that, but fear you betray yourself in the shaky exhale that escapes you. “I’m just going to keep coming back,” he tells you, seeming far too pleased by the idea. 

“For your own health, I certainly hope you don’t.”

“I’m in a dangerous line of work. All sorts of things can happen.”

You pick up what he’s putting down pretty quick, and it annoys the shit out of you. “If you get yourself hurt on purpose, that is not on me.”

“Then save me some pain, sweetheart. Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm?”

“That’s doctors. I took a pledge to practice my profession faithfully–which I’m doing. Didn’t you? What happened to ‘Serve and Protect?’”

“Sure thing. And I keep my oaths too.” The weight with which he looks at you makes something warm and uncomfortable coil in your belly, radiating outwards to your fingers and toes. 

A man who keeps his promises? 

Never heard of him. 

You are too young to be this jaded, but maybe it’s better that you learned the hard lessons quicker than most. Maybe it will save you some pain in the interim. Avoiding this utterly edible man in front of you probably falls into that category. 

You stand silently, waiting for him to leave. He seems to find this funny as hell, and tips an imaginary cap down at you. “See you soon, y/n.” 

You hope not, but you’re afraid that’s a promise he’ll keep. 

[judasgot-it]

hi! May i request tecchou and chuuya when s/o takes care of them after they were discharged from the hospital because after a mission, they were quite injured (idk if discharged it’s understandable, I used google translate but I hope you could understand me)

First time writing Chuuya, I don't know if I did him right so please tell me if I did him ok? (Also don't worry, your English is fine &lt;3)

Scenario: Taking care of you after getting injured (Tecchou, Chuuya)

Tecchou

"Oh, let me get that for you."

Your hand had dropped your hairbrush again. It was the 3rd time since you started, and you were beginning to get frustrated.

You didn't say anything though, just reaching your arm out so you could try again. It was difficult, trying to even wrap all of your fingers around the handle. But you managed, forcing yourself to place the bristles through your strands of hair, slowly dragging it through the knots that had formed throughout the week.

"Do you want me to do it for you?"

Tecchou was still behind you, watching you through the mirror as you struggled to brush your hair. You were going at an agonizingly slow pace, but you still persisted.

"No. I have to do this, remember?"

You were frustrated with the situation but what could you do about it - your arm was temporarily paralyzed, and your only option was to keep using it until you gained full control of it back.

You were just glad you still had it, as you were only inches away from having it blown off. This was really child's play for what you usually faced.

"I can help with this. You deserve a little break."

You made eye contact with him in the mirror, seeing him give you a little smile. He reached over and brushed some of your tangled hair with his fingers, careful to avoid the scabs hiding in your scalp.

For the past week, you've refused to let him touch it, only brushing it yourself so you could get control of your hand again. It wasn't exactly easy, seeing as you couldn't brush it as finely as you did before your injury. It's become a bit of a rat's nest, but you stayed stubborn.

You were a Hunting Dog, which meant that you had no choice but to get better as soon as possible. Your job didn't allow for vacations.

But maybe you wanted to feel spoiled for a bit. Doctor's orders be damned.

Sighing, you handed him the brush, moving to sit down on the toilet. You forced yourself to push the seat down with your arm, flexing your fingers as much as they allowed.

Tecchou said nothing, instead bending over and putting the brush to your hair. He was as gentle as possible, which was odd for the man - usually, he would attack something like this with maximum proficiency. Which meant a lot of pulling and tugging on your poor scalp.

It was relaxing, having him take the brush through your hair. One of his hands gently guided your head around, allowing him to easily move the brush throughout your hair, You let your eyes close, letting him treat you like an expensive doll.

This felt like a small slice of heaven right now.

"Thank you for saving me on the last mission."

You nodded, your head falling into his chest. You admittedly didn't want to get up, feeling your shoulders fall as you felt the bristles brush against the back of your neck.

"You've already thanked me. It's not that big of a deal, you know this is our job."

Tecchou hummed. He set the brush aside, moving your shoulders so he could look at you. You forced your head up, looking up into his honey eyes.

"Yes. But this feels different somehow."

You snorted. You fell back into his chest, pulling him close to you. His shirt was soft and stretched across his back, which made you realize this may have been an awkward position for him.

"So what if I want to protect my boyfriend, is that so wrong?"

You felt a hum in his chest, warming you on the inside. He put his cheek on top of your head, thinking.

"I suppose not. Just don't die ok?"

If he hugged you tighter while saying that, you didn't tease him. You just enjoyed his warmth for the moment, feeling close.

Chuuya

"Please don't ever do that again."

You were sitting in the park, watching as Chuuya brought both of your orders to your little park bench. He looked exasperated, looking at you from underneath his mop of hair.

He had ran from the nearby sandwich shop, just to find you sitting at a nearby park bench.

"Do what? I can't go that far Chuuya."

You had only walked about a couple meters away - nothing worth worrying about. Barely even out of sight.

"Don't get snappy with me your highness. I'm the one looking out for you while you're out of commission."

You looked at him as you took the brown bag out of his hands. Reaching in, you took out your food, looking to start your meal.

"Oopsie."

You gave a smile as Chuuya growled a little, biting his sandwich a little too aggressively. Riling him up had become a bit of a hobby of yours, seeing as it was all in good fun.

There wasn't anything else to do anyway, as you were forced to stand by until your ribs were completely healed. It was great, taking the time off and spending time with Chuuya. Just sucked being in pain nearly 24/7.

Even in your sleep, you couldn't catch a break. Everything hurt, so you really did appreciate Chuuya's company.

"So what'd you order? It smells really good."

You started to eat your own food, but you were eyeing his like a starving dog. Slowly, he inched away from you on the bench, holding his sandwich out of your reach.

"No way. I already paid for your lunch and now you want to eat mine? What more do you want from me?"

You smiled, like a strange little caracal. Your plastic fork waved around in your mouth as you spoke with it still there, with no regard to manners.

"I don't know. Saving people from falling out of a burning building usually comes with big rewards. Maybe I should get a kiss on the lips too and a big thank you."

Chuuya looked at you wide-eyed, stopping for a second. He was stunned at your offer, his face having a small blush.

Before he let out a large laugh, his ass almost slipping onto the concrete below.

"Do you really want that?"

He was smiling wide, his ocean eyes crinkling with him. His face was inching closer toward yours as he said this.

You looked at him, trying to gain your bearings as he put his hand underneath your chin and kissed you, lingering for a moment. You could feel his smile as he stayed there, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Then he pulled away, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

"Oh thank you so much Y/n. For saving me out of a burning building, and then breaking three of your ribs. You really are a hero, you know that?"

You looked at him, still blushing from his kiss. Then you snapped out of it, looking out to the park.

"Of course I am. I would do anything for a pretty damsel in distress, you know?"

You looked back towards him, biting your lip a little as chewed on his food. You were trying not to laugh, as it would have been extremely painful.

Chuuya reached over and pat your thigh, comforting you. You took a moment to catch your breath, still smiling despite the pain you were in.

"Could that pretty damsel please give you another kiss? I think you still need to feel my gratitude."

You smiled, carefully scooting closer toward him. You pat your lips, looking at him expectantly.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"You suck Y/n."

"And you swallow, Chuuya."

The ginger simply rolled his eyes and took your lips again, carefully taking your chin in his hand.

I haven't written for Chuuya yet so this was a challenge! But I love it when ppl request cuz this account really helps encourage me to write

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 5 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness

Word count: 2.8k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 4 | Part 6

Part 5 - Making believe

The news about your fight with Tom had spread across Hogwarts quicker than you had thought was possible. Three days had passed and you were sure even the teachers knew about it by now. And everyone seemed to know more about it than you did. 

There were stories about you hexing Tom in the hallways, about him threatening you there, about you almost drowning yourself in the lake, about Benjamin trying to kiss you, about you trying to kiss Benjamin. The list was endless. None of it was true and why anyone even cared was a mystery.

The way people looked at you made you angry to a degree where you had to control yourself not to smack them. Your anger was also fueled by the fact that Tom had not apologised yet. Three days. Feeling as long as three years when the whole school seemed to watch your every move while you were waiting for your future husband to make up his mind. 

Those two words alone made your blood boil. Future husband. Who certainly was the most conceited, hot-headed, mistrusting bastard on earth. Who you had agreed to marry for your sister. Who thought you would cheat on him, in this imaginary relationship, on the first chance you got. With Benjamin Hilt... Maybe he was also the daftest future husband on earth.

But nonetheless, you wondered far too often when he would finally walk up to you and apologise. You had even considered apologising to him just so you wouldn’t have to ignore him anymore. But that thought hadn’t lasted longer than a minute. He had to learn his lesson.

Tom’s friends seemed awfully aware as well. Although Avery and Lestrange stayed out of your way, some others made you feel like you were constantly observed. Almost as if they were his spies, telling him where he could go to avoid you. Tossers. 

The only person keeping you sane was Camille. She knew the truth and shut down every rumour that came to her ears. She had also tried to talk to Tom, much to your dismay. But he had ignored her completely. 

“Still no news on the fiancé front?” Camille asked when you sat with her in the courtyard. 

“Don’t call him that,” you answered. 

“Sorry,” she said but smiled. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. And I don’t really care.”

Camille laid her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t care, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh well… You talk about it an awful lot for someone who doesn’t.”

“You started it this time,” you grinned. Changing the subject seemed appropriate. She was right. “Do you want to study together around 5? In the library?”

“Sure. I still haven’t done the homework for Charms.”

“Me neither.”

You watched the people around the courtyard. They looked comfortable. Cosy with their scarves on. Carefree, wandering around and talking to their friends. It made you wonder if you looked like them too, or if they could see how bitter you felt. How uncomfortable and tired. If your poor attempt at faking indifference was enough to deceive them. 

The bench where you sat with Tom three days ago was right next to you. You had specifically chosen not to sit there but at the one next to it. Not that anyone had a clue, not even Camille knew which exact bench it was. But it felt good to avoid it. 

One of Tom’s friends, Evan Rosier, walked by. Another spy, another rat, running back to the nest, to tell him where not to go. He locked eyes with you for a brief moment but retracted ever so quickly and went inside. 

“It’s cold,” Camille said and pulled your gaze away from the other students. She rubbed her hands together and crossed her arms. “Want to leave?”

“Just a few more minutes,” you said and took a deep breath. The cold air didn’t hurt. It was sharp and fresh, it kept you awake.

“Okay,” she answered and laid her head on your shoulder. “Look, Ben and his friends are over there.”

They sat on the ground next to the stone walls, about fifty feet away. They didn’t seem cold either. Some of them had their coats open, their scarves only hanging down loosely from their necks.

“They’re strange,” you mumbled.

“I know, right? Like outcasts. But cool ones.”

“Cool? I’m not sure about that.”

Camille laughed. “I don’t know. They seem so happy all the time. As if nothing mattered to them really.”

“If that was true, Ben would know how to mind his own business.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You turned your head away from them, looking to your left where you heard footsteps coming your way. And indeed, someone was approaching you. The person’s shoes seemed oddly familiar and all your muscles tensed when you looked up and found out who they belonged to. Tom.

Camille noticed your movements and raised her head. Tom stopped in front of you, not saying anything, just looking from you to Camille and back to you. She nudged your waist, silently asking what to do and a small nod was enough for her to understand.

“I, um,” Camille cleared her throat. “I think I’m going to go inside. I’m freezing. I’ll see you in the library at 5.”

You said your goodbyes, watched her leave, then looked up at Tom again and waited for him to say something. But he didn’t. He just looked back at you, or through you maybe, until he finally took a seat beside you.

He sat there, staring straight ahead in silence, even though you gave him every chance to speak. The wind tousled his hair in those everlasting minutes of curiosity. What was he doing here, if he didn’t want to talk? 

People around you had noticed as well. They were looking over in turns and proceeded to whisper to each other. Like you wouldn’t notice.

“I have something for you,” Tom suddenly said and fiddled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. “My grandfather sent an owl.”

Seriously? Three days of silence and he came up to present you a letter? From Marvolo Gaunt of all people. The nerve of him.

“And?” you asked.

“And what?”

“Don’t you think you should say something first? Like an apology?”

He sighed and looked away again. As if he had known you wouldn’t let him get away with it. As if he had dreaded that moment.

“Yes,” he then said, so quietly you could hardly hear him. “I’m sorry for how I behaved. That I haven’t trusted you and that I didn’t let you speak.”

He looked like it hurt him physically to apologise. But it wasn’t enough. 

You turned towards him, watching him staring into the distance. “Now look me in the eyes and say it again.”

Tom turned his head your way, his brows furrowed, eyes looking into yours, filled with such anger, making you regret what you had said. You couldn’t tell if he would rather stand up and leave, or curse you right then and there for what you asked of him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated nevertheless.

“Thank you,” you answered and wondered if you should comment on how long it had taken him. Better not.

Tom pointed to the letter in your hands. “Now read it.”

The parchment was old and smelled damp and mouldy.

“Tom,

I was informed by an unknown source that people at Hogwarts are doubting the authenticity of your relationship with your fiancée. 

Someone sent a letter and implied they would notify the ministry about it if we wouldn’t cancel the wedding ourselves. 

Let me remind you two, that our plan must go through. If it won’t, the little one will pay for it. Make her wear the ring if you must. And don’t mistake this for a gift, I want it back eventually. 

Improve.

Marvolo Gaunt”

Breathing felt harder all of a sudden. There was a lump in your throat that burned and stung right down into your lungs. If the ministry would doubt the validity of your relationship, they could definitely null and void the marriage before it even happened. Which would be fatal.

“Merlin’s sake,” you sighed. “Who would do that? Threaten your grandfather...”

“You don’t know?” Tom asked and looked over to the group where Ben sat. “I got a suspect.”

“Of course… And what are we going to do about it?”

Tom took the letter and folded it back together, not taking his eyes off Ben. “Let me handle him.”

“What will you do?”

“Nothing too bad,” he said. “Possibly.” 

He Put the letter back into his coat pocket and pulled something else out of it, then opened up his hand, showing off the ring Marvolo must have written about. It was a gold band, inset with a black stone. Engraved on the stone was a strange symbol - a triangle with a circle inside of it and a straight line in its centre. “Put this on,” Tom instructed. “And wear it for people to see. It should suffice as an engagement ring.”

He slipped it onto your left ring finger quickly, his fingers brushing over yours for only a moment. An unceremonial act that would have made you laugh if the situation weren’t so dire. “I’ve never seen a ring like this.”

“It’s a family heirloom from the house of Gaunt and the Peverell’s,” he explained. “Marvolo wouldn't want you to know that. It's one of a kind. And very valuable.”

“That’s why he wants it back,” you concluded.

Tom nodded.

“And how does Marvolo expect us to improve?” you asked. “We can’t change what people think about us.”

“Make them believe. It’s not that hard to fool people.”

He was right. Tom might have been a prick, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. If rumours about your fight spread so quickly, rumours about you making peace would spread even faster. 

“Hold my hand,” you said.

“What?”

“We have to make them believe. Better start right away. There are lots of people around. Maybe we can even trick Ben and his friends.”

He restrained for quite a bit, then ever so slowly reached for your hand, not looking at you. His skin was warm from being inside, almost hot against yours and he felt stiff and mechanical, as if he didn’t know how to behave or was repulsed even by this minimal contact. It was uncomfortable, having your hand lying in someone else’s, who didn’t really hold it but simply let it lay there.

You adjusted your fingers and put them right against his, which made him turn towards you. His pulse pumped softly against the tips of your fingers. It was faster than you had thought and made you smile. Tom didn’t. But he looked at you, differently.

His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, the anger from before completely washed away. His eyes were open, studying your face with a deadpan stare until he squinted.

“You’re cold,” he said and brought his other hand around the back of yours, now properly holding it with both of his.

“I’ve been here for a bit,” you told him and looked around, letting his unfamiliar warmth spread through your veins. “I think it’s working.”

“Hm?”

“The people. They’re watching.”

Tom took a glance, his fingers twitching as he did. The other students turned away one by one when his gaze neared them. Even Ben and his friends had noticed but ducked their heads now too. 

Making people believe was easier than expected.

“And he really held your hand? Wow. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Camille whispered when you told her about what had happened.

“I know, me neither,” you said while opening the Charms textbook. 

“And I wasn’t there to see it. Damn it. I knew I should have peeked around a corner.”

“Gross,” you joked and looked around if anyone could hear you. 

The library was quite full, but you had found a desk at the far end, where no one would bug the two of you.

Studying with Camille was, as unbelievable as it may sound, one of the best parts of school. It brought tranquillity and effect together. Feeding your brain with new information and sharing it with one another was a sensation you got nowhere else. No matter how dry, or tricky the material was, you had always found a way to remember. You were great together. Balanced. And she brought chocolate, every time. Major plus.

It had gotten dark outside a while ago when you finished the Charms essay. Only then you noticed how tired your eyes were from the dim light. Camille had completed hers two chocolate bars ago and was waiting for you by the window. 

“Done,” you sighed. “Finally.”

“Great. Let’s go then,” she said and started packing up her things.

“I haven’t proofread.”

“Oh,” Camille nodded and teetered from one foot to another.

“But you can go. Really. You’ve already waited for so long. I’ll just read it again and then I’m off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Somewhere you need to go?”

“The loo,” she whispered and you laughed.

“Then run!”

You rubbed your eyes and folded the parchment flat out under your hands. One more read-through and you were done. It was even quieter around you, now that Camille had left. The only things you heard were the librarian’s steps, as she tiptoed through the rows every now and then, and some quills scratching on paper from afar. It was a hypnotic silence, that made it easier to read. So easy, you didn’t even notice someone walking up to you.

The sound of the chair next to you screeching lightly over the floor was so startling, you almost knocked over your inkwell.

“Merlin’s sake,” you whispered as you screwed down the small bottle. “You can’t creep up on me like that. Almost ruined my essay.”

“Pardon me,” Tom said. “Who could have thought people had to be quiet in a library?”

You shot him a look to prevent yourself from telling him to keep his cocky jokes to himself. “What are you doing?”

He opened up a book, giving you the same look in return as if to say, what do you think people do in here. “Reading.”

“Alright then,” you said and leaned over your parchment again. 

Just a few more pages. But suddenly the words you had written didn’t make sense anymore. You had to read each sentence twice, to even understand what they meant. And you were awfully aware of your breathing. Tom made you nervous. 

It took you twice as long to read one page and the fact that you watched him from the corner of your eye every other moment didn’t help. 

Concentrate. Forget he’s even here. You had eventually found somewhat of a rhythm again, laying one paper aside, when Tom touched your hand.

You automatically jolted and looked over to him. He was still reading his book, now holding your hand firmer, more proper than earlier that day. It seemed like he wanted to finish this particular paragraph before he looked back at you. And the blank expression on his face said more than ever before. It was a mix between him waiting for you to pull away and simultaneously telling you not to dare to move. 

It was the same silence, the same tension that occurred when he had come for dinner at your house, when you were alone in the dining room with him. But yet, it felt so different.

So you held him, too. Quietly. Still staring at him. While no one spoke a word. 

Your fingers folded along the back of his hand perfectly, like they were meant to be there. 

And then, he moved. His thumb swayed back and forth across your skin, so lightly you could barely even sense it. So softly, as though he was scared it could hurt and break you. His eyes were fixated on you. He studied every breath, every flutter of your eyelashes, every muscle moving in reaction to his touch. 

And there it was. Something different in his eyes. Something more than the notorious apathy. A spark, a tiny hint of what you would call emotion. 

Something you had never seen on him. It suited him well. So you let him feast on it. For forever if he asked you to.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 6

[catchingdaydreams]

Borrower Shigaraki! X reader

Synopsis: You thought you had a rat problem and try to deal with it. Borrower Shigaraki gets stuck in a gule trap. Does he deserve it though? He did steal your stuff.

Words: 600 ish?

You notice that your house is so dusty as of late so you decided to do a big spring clean. As you do you hear scurring in the walls. You thought you might have a rat problem. You believed so even more when you find a trail of crumb leading to a "nest" of some of socks that have gone missing. So you set up rat traps inside. One night you hear it go off in your kitchen. Investigate it you only find that said trap snapped in two, with wood chips scattered around like dust. You're dumb brain could only register as this being a big ass city rat, so you invest in something less breakable. The following night sounds were coming from the kitchen again. Groggy from sleep you armed yourself with a broom (in case said rat attacks) and investigate. You find no rat but an intruder. A very small intruder. Stuck in said glue trap. You thought you might be still dreaming but that thought quickly went away as you heard the little man panic and become distressed by your presence.

You really didn't know what to do, your attempts to pry them from the trap were quickly met with the little guy biting your thumb, causing it to bleed. You back off and wince at the pain.

The little fella stopped struggling, a mixture of exhaustion and pain twisted his face. He just stared at you as you began to panic from this whole ordeal. Completely unamused he tisked, trying at this attempt to escape again he reached for his make shift knife from his pocket. Yet his arms were not moving an inch.

He could hear you talking to him. Were you asking him something? He wasn't really paying attention. Only then in the flicker of his sight he saw you reaching out to him again. He began to panic once more.

"FUCKEN DON'T TOUCH ME YOU FILTHY HUMAN BEAN!!" He snarled with venom.

He watched the person's eyes bulge out from shock, mouth wide open.

"You-u can talk?" You questioned, clearly freaking out even more by this whole ordeal.

"Naw your just hearing thinks, oh course I can bloody talk". He said as he muttered 'stupid human bean' under his breath.

"I uh ..." You stutter, really utterly lost for words at this point. You sit in silence as you watch the little man continue to struggle. You wince as you saw his skin becoming irritated and raw as parts were starting to feel off from the glue.

"let me help" you whisper. You're concerned we're only met by a scoff from the tiny human.

"This is all my fault that you're like this, it's the least I can do" you say.

He stopped his useless struggle and looked up to you, further irritated as you continued to talk to him.

"I'm not going to owe you anything". He plainly says. You try to reassure him that's not why you want to help him but he cuts you off. " Oh course you will , it's what you human beans do, you always take, TAKE , TAKE FROM US! you won't take MY freedom. Not again.... anything but that."

"...."

You clearly picked a sore subject with the way how he reacted. All you could do was watch as he cowers, further continually mumbling underneath his breath. You couldn't fully understand him. Somewhere in between you thought you heard him say 'Master' and 'Friends being separated'.

He was dead set with that mindset and wasn't going to change with empty promises from a stranger. So you came up with an idea.

"Right....well that was you who has been stealing my things lately, I found your little stash of sorts. Yet I'm still missing some stuff. If I help you out, all I ask is that you give me the other stuff back."

"I didn't take shit, I borrowed it!" That seemed to get his attention. He snarls back from the offense, yet with less malice. He huffs as he turns his head away from you.

"Okay, okay borrowed....I free you and you return the stuff you "borrowed", alright ?"

There was silence between you two as you waited for his response.

"Fine" is all that he says. Still not looking at you. He sighs though, body still on edge yet exhaustion creeps in once more.

"Okay wait there" You say without thinking, cringing a second later.

You hear a raspy snicker from him, "Yeah no shit".

You get up and get some hot water and a cloth. It was a tedious task trying to soften the gule enough to not further peel his skin off. He didn't jap you with a snarky comment nor fight back this time as you touched him. You could see he was tired and numb with pain to do so. Eventually when he was free from the trap, you set him down in front of you, let he was in a daze, as if his mind was somewhere else.

His lack of awareness and response as you asked him if he's okay only increased your concern for his current state. You reach out to nudge him, careful not to go near his face (you didn't wish to get bitten by him again).

"Hey there little buddy, I'm just gonna wipe the blood off you now. You okey if I also disinfect and wrap your wounds too?"

It takes him awhile to respond but he gives a throaty hum in approval.

By the time you gather the extra supplies to treat him, you re-enter the room to find him passed out. You sign in both your own exhaustion and stress as you tended him. You still didn't even know his name or what he was. ' I guess tiny people exist now' You thought to yourself.

You just feel awful about the whole ordeal. You promised to never invest in these traps again, it was far too cruel to witness it in action.

As you tended him you noticed older wounds around his neck, ringed-like but faded. It almost looked like it came from a collar and it made your guilt feel all the more worse as you remember what he said to you. 'Freedom taken', a 'Master'? Wherever he was before, he escaped and sought refuge where he could... And you made his life shitter by further causing him pain.

You sigh as you gently pick him up and enter your room. Placing him gently in his little 'nest' you head to bed yourself. You know tomorrow will just be as hectic, and you really weren't prepared for what was to come next.

Certainly didn't expect to find him not only gone but somehow replaced all your socks with dust???.

"OH THAT LITTLE FUCKER !!!

[oops-its-a-fanwork]

Part one of "Some interesting devil fruit abilities for reader to have in the pirate au" (from someone who's never seen one piece so bear with me)

I'm not a native English speaker so these may have some mistakes in them, sorry!

Also, this particular pirate au was created by @mega-punani! Thank you for creating characters I can rotate in my head like popcorn in a microwave xx

I present to you: Pocket docter!!

Devil fruit: Tiny fruit

Reader can get tiny at will!

Thats it.

:)

...Well, okay, they have some outfits that shrink with them, and possibly some jewelry and stuff they keep on them at all times, like a little healing kit! Outfits that don't fit or they don't consider theirs wont shrink or grow with them. Embarrassing!

Probably a little salty that they gave up their ability to swim in the ocean for this... regardless of having had a choice in the matter. Its not a flashy cool power but it sure can be useful!

They can make really specialized tiny tools, get very specific parts of plants and other remedies for illnesses, and they can treat delicate wounds with extreme precision if needed! The tiniest needle and thread known to man is at their disposal.

This power could have reader in fight scenes but in someones pocket, passed around to heal during battle (a little risky but that's fun!) or captured by an enemy and then suddenly be gone (if there's no sea prism stones used ofc).

Not to mention some interesting interactions with the boys!

Sans put his hat on your head while you were tiny and laughed his head off-- its a pretty goofy sight and you're struggling to keep it near you against the wind. You still insist it looked better on you than it does on him and he kind of agrees.

You end up sewing teeny tiny little things into his hat whenever you end up trapped under there. Little stars and shapes, puns, messages... You've assured him you can easily remove them but he loves it. At some point he offers it as a makeshift bed for you if you ever need it, having added a tiny pillow and letting you use the scarf as a blanket. The sight of you asleep in his hat on his nightstand endears him to no end.

Dang hes already tall but Papyrus really dwarfs you huh? He will encourage you to not feel bad or less than others for being absolutely tiny!! --even if your normal form is about average or even tall. Everyone is small compared to him and he's truly nice about it so you forgive him for it.

I feel like he might accidentally forget you in the crows nest and then frantically get the crew looking for you while you're just chilling up there. He didn't forget to put your safety first up there so you've got a lovely view to enjoy!

(Hes no longer the shortest let's GOOOOO-)

Alright so Blue is the most dangerous man to be around out of all of them. Not out of malice of course! Hes just very strong and very energetic, and where Papyrus might punctuate his extravagant poses with acrobatics, Blue does so with his unbridled strength! Which meaaaans he might grip you just a little tight when picking you up, or that he'll forget you're near him while moves around, sweeping your feet out from under you. He definitely learns with time, but you're having much more fun being carried around while at your normal size.

You've pranked Stretch by pretending to be a rat a couple of times, scuttling from under a table or jumping at him suddenly because you are very funny! And also because he was trying to ignore your presence on the ship at first. What better ways to get along than to prank and bother him relentlessly until he talks to you? Unfortunately for his pride, it works, and the pranking turns into lighthearted inside jokes instead. He wont admit it, but hes much less jumpy at the sight of wandering mice and rats now...

I also think Stretch has some of the softest clothes on the ship, and that on some cold days, you can snooze in his hood/scarf while he plays some gentle tunes. Its a very relaxing time for both of you.

Red thinks you're so, so cute... now how can he convey this to you without sounding condescending?

Through trial and error of course! You can yell at him that hes being mean and he'll think its hot, but he will genuinely tweak his approach to you a bit. He'll call you kitten, but if you say you feel he's not taking you seriously when you're small he'll only say it when you're regular sized. Hell he'll call you boss or sir/lady if that's the only thing you can tolerate. And also because that's funny as hell.

You asked to help him with hard to reach nooks and crannies on the ship and its really bonding for you both. He will always check/clean whatever spot you need to reach a bit before you climb in (like a gentlemonster) and then he'll stare at your ass when you're reaching for whatever is inside (like a perv!).

Someone makes mother hen and chickadee joke.

Someone gets tossed off the ship.

It might not be the worst analogy though: Edge is quite protective of you when you're that small, and you can always turn to him when you're 'getting bullied' by the rest of the crew. Hide in his coat and stick your tongue out while he chides them, that'll show 'm!

Edge is probably one of the people who suggested creating a little room for you to do tiny crafts in so he doesn't accidentally blow your materials away when he walks past in a hurry. He has places to be! Its definitely not because he thinks you're cute and distracting nope--

He does kind of regret it sometimes when he hasn't seen you all day. Show him you thought of him by gifting him a tiny craft, yeah?

Reader might help Razz get super specialized tiny equipment to draw with, like incredibly sharp edged pencils or brushes with materials that you know will still draw well at that size. It could make his detailed works even better!!

...ifffff he lets you watch while he works of course. It'll help you get a better understanding of what he needs! Besides, its very easy to forget that there's a cute little human on your shoulder when you're concentrating that hard. Surely you wouldn't surprise-attack kiss him on the cheek will you? ;)

You get stolen/kidnapped by Cash often, for 'ransom' (food or favors from the others), 'evil purposes' (pranks) or 'for funsies' (attention). Depending on your tolerance/love for pranks he could be an awesome pranking buddy, or a bit of a nightmare.

He might scam people by selling you as a fairy in a cage and then stealing you back immediately, or by trying to convince you to help him cheat at games with a drunk bunch in a pub.

Of course, your ability to grow back to normal size ensures there's always some form of consent to these japes. If you've had enough, grow back to size on his shoulder or in his hand, that'll show him!! He's to lanky to keep his balance, even if he sees it coming.

Bear loves feeding you things when you're small, since most foods are tough to eat when your head is the size of a grape. For example, eating crackers forces you to nibble like a mouse would which is adorable to him. He also tries to make tiny sized dishes for you for a few reasons: one, it hides the before mentioned intentions of watching you eat behind just making you food, two, he's bored and tiny dishes are genuinely challenging, and three: it gets him genuine compliments and interactions with you, resulting in a lovely blushy skeleton.

Also the teaspoon thing would be so funny in this context lmao. You can buy or carve a pretty one to make him feel better about it if you want, and he would find it hilarious if you made and showed him tiny sized food utensils.

You pull Cinnamon around ratatouille-style on occasion. Or at least he definitely lets you lead him around the place while chatting excitedly about everything and nothing. He loves having you so close, and you've built up enough trust for him to know you wont embarrass or prank him. Not that you could pull off a prank anyway: his ability to see auras makes him the only person on the ship who rarely overlooks you when you're tiny.

You've both decided he doesn't tell the others where you are when you need some time alone, but he does feel better knowing you're safe on the ship somewhere, so you do give him a little wave when you spot him.

Then for some extra little tidbits:

If Blue or Red are being annoying while training with reader (as in using reader like a weight for training), reader will suddenly shrink to throw them off balance.

If you're the kind of person to avoid confrontation when you're in trouble then congrats! You can now blip out of place during any uncomfy conversation. This leads to things like the following:

If you nervously leave a lot of conversations by shrinking and leaving when Edge is grilling you, he might take the hint that he's being more harsh then you can handle and he'll treat you with a different tone of voice (to the best of his ability of course). He might use some excuse about his loud voice impacting your tiny tiny eardrums or something but we all know you're just a softy Edge <3

And if you're a trouble-maker like some of the gang, you might actually get on bears nerves enough for him to chase you! And as that usually ends with you shrinking to avoid getting hit with a teaspoon ladle, he just picks you up and puts you in his chest pocket. You are now officially in time-out, and you can either stay there and watch him cook or grow big again and get hit (or at least, thats the implied threat. You both know he wouldn't). He says you'll stay an hour, for punishment, but it only ends up being like ten minutes before he gives mercy. Unless you get all sleepy in his pocket of course...

If the crew would ever need to find and/or rescue you, they would send Cinnamon and Edge or Sans on the case: Cinnamon can find you with his aura vision, and Edge and Sans are respectively the most focused on the task at hand and able to pull you out of whatever place you're in without hurting you.

When the crew plays card games and you're to tired to play yourself, you'll sit on someones shoulder to give advice. Is it good advice? Possibly. Are you cheating by checking in on others? Maybe. Do you use your powers for good? If whoever you're sitting with has been nice, sure :) !

You're either considered a lucky charm or a menace, its up to you ;)

[forgotten-edenian]

“Oh mon cheri… I’m going to break you.”

The back of your head was no doubt a rats nest from the dragging on the satin bedsheets. With the lower half of your body suspended in the air, fingers plunged deep inside you, you were at the mercy of your maker. Lestat the vampire.

For whatever reason it seemed Lestat was dead set on catching you in the act. A very intiment one at that. You pleasuring yourself. When you were given the dark gift, lestat and Louis had already been together for decades. To you it felt awkward and rude to intrude on any of their love making sessions. Despite their reassurance you felt that was something only they could do, in your mind, no fledging had a place with the elders.

Your alone time was when you could take care of yourself. Think of what It would be like having a threesome with them without the shame. Lestat had his suspicions that you were partaking in such activity alone and was intrigued. Was he not good enough? No, it definitely wasn’t that. Make out sessions had occurred and the endeavor to go further was in the works but adding a third seemed to turn you off completely . At least that’s how the pair thought.

Once while doing the deed to yourself you unknowingly caught attention of your maker. The Voyeurism seeped into Lestat as he heard the sweet whimpers and name calling coming from the black lovely coffin. Upon hearing the name of his first lover Louis, Lestat conquered that you were too intimidated to join in on their shenanigans. That event planted a seed into his head. One only a succubus could only imagine doing. Filthy and degrading is what describes the scene in his head. He was getting aroused just thinking about it.

His aura was too much to bear, and Lestat knew it. He left as soon as you felt his presence. Embarrassed you vowed to never be in your coffin while doing such thing again. Hence why you would be on a satin bed instead of your coffin.

The wetness dripped to valley of your breasts. Some rolling down your back and falling onto the golden pillow below. The pain in your middle finger surged as its involuntary movements thrusted into your cunt with the power from lestat. There he was standing beside the bed. Using his powers on you. Made you think about how much stronger Lestat truly was. The vampire couldn’t take his eyes off you. Practically eating you alive with his pupils.

“Oh, Lestat… Please.”

You begged. Shivering from soreness and pleasure. He merely chuckled, not even giving a response.

“How cruel you are to me…” whimpering as Lestat made your finger work harder. When this stoped you thought your hand would permanently be stuck in a come-hither motion.

“Don’t say such things my love, you’ll make me feel bad.”

[wyrddogs]

Ratting update

We were invited out to a farm for abatement last night. We were out for three hours, had four people and five dogs, and dispatched 101 rats. It was a blast!

Descriptions of ratting under the cut, and I am sharing a photo this time. So be mindful if photos of dead animals bothers you.

It was 83F (28C) when we arrived so we had to pause several times to dunk the dogs and let them cool off. The property owners were incredibly gracious and provided the humans with a neverending supply of Gatorade.

Our main focus was a shed next to some chicken coops. We first focused on removing a bunch of grain cans and a lot of old discarded bags and wrappers. Rats were popping out left and right so everyone was able to nab something. There were so many that on two separate occasions I just reached down and grabbed one, then called the nearest dog and let them grab it out of my hand to dispatch. (I was wearing heavy gloves.)

Once we'd pulled everything out of the shed, we took note of all the tunnels. One person went to check out the coops and noticed that a lot of the rats were taking refuge there. We set a hose to flood the tunnels inside the shed and then all moved outside and stationed ourselves around the pen to catch the fleeing rats. Only one of our dogs is bird-safe, so everyone else was on a long line, which definitely restricted our movements a bit. The chickens graciously plastered themselves in a corner and stared at us as we worked.

Once the rats stopped coming out of the tunnels, two of us went inside to turn off the hose, figuring we were done with the shed. Kermit and the patterdale indicated very strongly that there were still rats under the floorboards. The owner got a crowbar and used it as a lever to lift the floorboards for us. Rats POURED out!! We heard yelling outside as they booked it for the chicken coop, and Kermit and the patt were just grabbing rats, shaking and dropping, then immediately moving to the next rat. It was chaotic.

After that, the dogs pronounced the shed cleared, so we moved to the chicken coop. We flooded those tunnels and dispatched rats as they came out. After that it was another 30 minutes or so of hunting down any stragglers and taking care of them.

A lot of these rats were huge. Some of them had to weigh like five pounds (2kg). They fought viciously-- our dogs were struggling to dispatch them. There were times where the humans had to step in to help. The greyhound's lips got torn up pretty bad. I remember one point where Kermit was repeatedly pulling a rat larger than his head out of a tunnel, biting it and getting bit, dropping it, then pulling it out of the tunnel again.

We also found some rat nests. We always feel really bad about killing the babies. The adults at least can fight back, hurt the dogs, get away. But the babies are helpless. So it's sad. But part of abatement is taking care of the next generation. So we make it as quick and painless as possible. At least it's not poison.

We cleared the shed and coops, but they've still got stables and a tool shed with serious infestations, so they're going to invite us back. I might bring Zaku next time to give him the experience.

And here is Kermit with the haul:

[lacyjaybird]

@inukag-week day 3!

Theme: Bickering

"Can't Win For Losing"

“IF I GOTTA HEAR YOUR WHINING ONE MORE TIME I'M GONNA RIP MY EARS OFF AND THROW ‘EM AT YOU!” 

“WELL IF I HAVE TO WATCH YOU SCRATCH YOUR ASS BEFORE CLEANING THE NIGHTS DINNER I'LL JUST USE YOUR EARS TO THROW UP IN!” 

Sango and Miroku sat, side by side, their heads turning to each combatant as they screamed towards each other. 

“I've got one mon on Kagome throwing things first.” Sango whispered, bringing a bite of rice to her mouth as she leaned to the monk. 

“You're a cleaver one, slayer. But I'll bet one mon that our hot headed friend gets sat before anything starts to fly.” Miroku countered, pinching a bite of mackerel in his chopsticks and downing it. 

“Y’all are BOTH wrong” a third voice chirped, causing their eyes to drop from the raging duo before them to between them. 

“I bet all my trinkets that he's gonna say something stupid that makes her grab her stuff and high tail it for the well.” The redhead nodded, accepting a fish cake from Sango's outstretched hand. “Oh, thank you “

“You're in.” the schemers say, in unison. 

Turning back to the show, they tune back in right as Kagome starts pointing at Inuyasha with her hairbrush. 

“And ANOTHER THING. If I have to root around another oni brain for a jewel shard that IS CLEARLY VISIBLE, I'm gonna WIPE ALL IT'S BRAIN GUTS ON THAT RATS NEST YOU CALL HAIR!” Kagome hollered, waggling the potential projectile in her hand, accusatory in all manners possible. 

“Oh, well EXCUSE ME, Miss Prim and Perfect refuses to get her fuckin hands dirty like the rest of us! How are you gonna complain when you only have ONE JOB to do? The rest of us are doin ten times what your ass does!” 

Eyes dart back and forth, breath barely concealed behind chopstick covered lips. 

“Oh. So THAT'S how you feel! Sorry I wasn't born a priestess and made to swear my life away to service! MY BAD that I wasn't trained how to shoot DEMONS out of the sky by the time I was ten! I was in PRIMARY SCHOOL. Where I learned to READ.” The high schooler mocked, hands on her hips as she leaned forward. 

“Kikyo never complained this much over doin shit she was supposed to do..” 

“Oh, shit” the trio whispered as one. 

Waiting, Miroku was sure this was going to be an easy win, and began to hold out his hand for his winnings when Kagome surprised them all. 

Standing straight, she nodded her head. 

“You're right. She probably didn't. That's why you two are PERFECT for one another. Cause she's willing to take your bullshit and YOU'RE ONLY INTO SUBMISSIVE DEAD GIRLS.” 

Turning on her heel, Kagome snatches her yellow backpack off of the fallen log it was sitting on. Shoving things inside, she shoves an entire rice ball in her mouth before letting out a tight “HMMGPH!” and setting out towards East… and towards the Bone Eater's Well. 

Scrambling hanyou feet followed with a much less heated, “ Wait… Kagome…I didn't mean it like that!” as he dissapeared behind her into the woods. 

“Pay up, losers.” 

The remaining pair look down to see the little kitsune with nothing short of a shit-eating grin, both tiny palms out. 

Sighing, the humans deposit each a single metal disk into his hands. 

“Y'all grownups shouldn't gamble. It's bad for your wallets.” 

The boy chuckles, tucking back into his dinner as the slayer and monk mumble behind him, just two more sore losers in the game he knew as “love”

[ice-cap-k]

Silent Squeak

Cross-posted to AO3 here: Silent Squeak

_______________________________________________________

“Do you want the veggie rolls or the dumplings?”

“Dumplings, please. Whatever recipe you use tastes amazing.”

“Thanks. Just give me a moment to plate it.”

The smell of warm dumplings made Owen’s mouth water. He was starving and knew that the meal about to be served would be worth every second of the wait. Everyone knew Scott was the best cook in the attic. Between the farm fresh veggies he had managed to grow in his makeshift indoor garden to the hours spent perfecting his craft over a hot pot, the field rat had refined his talent to a peak. And that worked out perfectly since few other rats were so interested in the culinary craft.

Owen could manage a few of the simpler things. His own veggie rolls and grilled steak turned out edible, at least. Maybe a little chewy, but that just added to the experience. They were rats. Chewing through stuff was in their nature.

“Here you are.” A plate clatters onto the tabletop in front of Owen. The smell of the broth hits his sensitive nose, and the spoon is in his hand in an instant. The first bite almost burns his tongue, but he doesn’t care. The warm food tastes like the most amazing thing he’s had for a while.

“You know,” Scott says with a smirk as he slides into the booth on the opposite side of the table. “You could always try to make something with the food you steal from the pantry instead of eating it plain.”

Owen pulls the spoon out of his mouth and uses it to point at the farm rat. “That’s what I have you for,” he says around a mouthful of dumpling. “Why would I cook when I could just ask you to make something for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “And here I thought you visit so often because you enjoy my charming personality.”

“It can be for that too. You’re a really good friend, Scott. Who said it can’t be both?”

“Oh. Well, I really appreciate the visits.” A little smile appeared between Scott’s whiskers. His eyes dropped to his own bowl of dumplings and the spoon in his hand. “I don’t mind cooking, though. If it wasn’t so cold outside, I could have brought the food to set up a picnic on your balcony.”

“You wouldn’t have had to bring food,” Owen said, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. 

Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “How else would I make something for us to eat?”

Owen had to think about that for a moment. “Well, we could try cooking at my place.”

“But you don’t even have a kitchen in your clock tower,” Scott said incredulously, gesturing to their surroundings with a free hand. 

Scott’s home was admittedly one of the most complete in the attic. Many rats had plenty of rooms and accommodations. Some had even built up storefronts and businesses outside of their personal nests. Owen’s clock, though, was hollowed out with a mindset more focused on convenience and his own personal interests. There was a small mudroom at the base of the clock, and if you climbed the gears he could reach his tinkering workshop and bedroom behind the clock face. A simple hallway led to an elaborate balcony, but that had admittedly been built by Scott. And that was it. There wasn’t much else that could fit inside.

The grandfather clock didn’t have things like kitchens, cozy living room seating spaces, or teal and orange booths set in the wall where he could eat with company. 

Although Martyn’s Bar did have most of that. He supposed that was always an option.

“Fair enough. By the way, how are you feeling?”

Scott’s ears twitched to match the confusion that crossed his face. One ear pressed flat against the back of his head, the other swiveled forward to catch Owen’s words. “What do you mean,” he said, blinking blankly.

“That janitor really got you the other day. We were all scared for you. And when the Mom of the house let you go you were shaking. So I thought I’d ask you how you’re feeling now that things have died down a little.”

The spoon dropped from Scott’s claws. The sudden clatter made Owen flinch. “Sorry,” Scott said hurriedly, scooping up the spoon and shoving another bite of food into his mouth. He looked away as he chewed. One claw shot out, indicating to Owen to wait while Scott finished. 

By the way, Scott’s face grew a few shades paler, though, the tinker rat figured that this was more of an attempt to stall. “Scott?”

“Sorry…” Scott took a moment to swallow. The food must have gone down heavy because Owen could hear the gulp from across the table. “Of course I’m fine. You don’t have to worry. It’s not like I’m the only one who’s ever gotten tossed in a cage around here.”

“No, but I’d imagine your experience was a bit rougher than average…” “I said I’m fine.” Owen was surprised by the forcefulness in Scott’s tone. The farm rat was usually so quiet and polite. It wasn’t exactly impolite, but he had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in discussing further. “Although, speaking of which,” Scott continued with some of the curiosity and lightness returning to his voice as he changed the subject. “Any news on the recovery of that crow the daughter was taking care of? Were they able to put a splint on their wing?”

“Oh yeah,” Owen perked right up as memories of today's event started replaying in his head. “They managed to bandage up Kara’s wing a little better. It seems our attempt at first aid was a little lackluster. The wrapping had started coming loose.”

Scott nodded along, fully absorbed in this new conversation. “Well, none of us are medical professionals. How long will it take to heal?”

“I’m not sure, but-”

They carried on like this for the rest of the meal, discussing the day’s events and plans for the Christmas celebration. There was a lot of planning and things to look forward to, and Owen completely forgot about Scott’s dismissive response when he brought up the incident with the cage.

________________________________________

“Under the table! Under the table! Quick! QUICK!!”

“He’s right behind us!!”

Owen dove nose first under the coffee table left out in the entryway. Claws scrabbled at the tiled floor as he pressed himself beneath the bracers connecting its legs where the butler wouldn’t be able to reach him. As soon as he was out of harm's way, he turned to check if Scott had made it as well.

“Owen!”

His best friend was reaching out to him. His eyes were round with terror as he leaped for safety. “SCOTT!”

A large hand swooped down and the other rat disappeared behind massive fingers. Scott let out a strangled squeak as the human’s grip tightened around him.  His muffled voice faded as the hand carried him back up into the air.

“Drat. He got Scott.” Owen watched from his hiding place as the butler made for the lounge. There would be a rat trap in the back corner, nestled up against the fireplace. He’d been caught and tossed in that trap countless times. Once the coast was clear, he could run in and let Scott out. He would just have to keep an eye out for the cats. 

Moments passed, and eventually, the disgruntled butler left the lounge empty-handed. Owen couldn’t speak human, but he could tell by the tone of their voice that the butler wasn’t happy. But he was leaving and that was what was most important. That meant the clock was ticking on the opportunity to get Scott out of there.

He pulled himself out from under the table and tore across the linoleum. Please don’t let there be cats. No cats. No cats. No cats. 

Luck was on his side today. No big hairballs were prowling around the lounge. It was a straight shot to the fireplace.

“I got you, Scott.” With one great leap, Owen launched himself up onto the platform the cage was resting on. He shoved down the lever on the latch. The metal door fell open with a clank. “Let’s go before he comes back.”

He turned to jump back off the countertop but stopped when he didn’t hear pawsteps behind him. When he looked back, Scott was still inside the cage. He was looking down at the bars on the floor, one hand gripping a wire making up the wall. 

“Scott?”

Owen padded back, but Scott still didn’t make any move to leave. “Everything alright,” he asked, ducking into the cage with his friend. 

“I’m fine.” Scott’s voice was small. He usually was pretty soft-spoken, but this was even quieter than normal for the farm rat. Now that Owen was closer, he could see Scott’s shaking shoulders and hands.  

“Are you sure…” 

“I’m sure.” With a deep breath, Scott squared his shoulders. The shaking stopped as a big, empty smile stretched across his face. “Thank you for saving me.” With that, he scampered out of the cage, leaving Owen to follow after.

Owen blinked with surprise. “Hey, wait for me,” he shouted before jumping down after his friend. 

Scott looked over his shoulder as he ran on all fours. There’s mischief glinting in his eye. The smile on his face began to look a little more real. “Last one to the attic is a rotten cat!” he calls. 

“Hey!” Owen pushes past his concern for his friend. Scott wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway. He was okay now. Everyone got spooked when the humans caught them. That was all it had been. It had to be.

Owen was generally bigger than Scott. Faster than him too. Scott may have a head start on him, but there was no way he was losing this race. “I’m going to make you eat those words!”

____________________________________________________

“Hey, have you noticed anything off about Scott lately?”

Owen put the glass in his hand down on the bar counter. Only half of his drink had been emptied, but Martyn was already pouring him another glass. He nodded his thanks, wrapping his fingers around the base of the cup without really lifting it off the bar. “What do you mean?”

It was just the two of them at the moment, but it was getting late and the other rats around the attic would start filtering into the bar sooner or later. That was fine by Owen, it had been a long day. He could sit back and enjoy the warm atmosphere and excessive amount of Christmas decorations Martyn had set up around the business. It was one of the more elaborate builds in the attic and a good place to kill time now that Owen was no longer banned.

“Maybe ‘lately' is the wrong word,” Martyn said, crossing both arms and leaning against the counter from the server’s side. “It’s been going on for a bit, but hasn’t he seemed a bit more twitchy whenever the other humans are passing by?”

Owen smirked and rolled his eyes. “I would hope everyone is twitchy around them. Not keeping your guard up will get you captured. Or dead.”

Martyn shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you’re not wrong. It just seems to me, like, whenever one of us gets into trouble, Scott immediately is there. He’s always the first to jump when one of us gets caught. He’s almost always the one to flick the switch. And when he gets caught… Well, I’ve never had a panic attack myself before but it sure does make me think of one. I can get freaking out when you’re in one of those cages, but it’s like Scott just… I don’t know. Shuts down?”

Despite himself, Owen couldn’t keep his ears from drooping at Martyn’s words. The other rat’s eyes followed the small movement. How could he not? They were a dead giveaway to Owen’s own thoughts on the matter. “I see. So you’ve noticed it too.”

It shouldn’t surprise the tinker rat that the others would have caught on as well. 

“He doesn’t want to talk about it.” Owen stared down at his own reflection in his glass. It looked back at him with a somber expression. “It’s been happening ever since the basement blew up and the janitor caught him. I’ve tried asking him if he’s okay, but he just says that he’s fine. I don’t think he’s actually fine.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Owen shot a glare at the other rat. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s you two who are all buddy buddy all the time. Surely you’ve got something in mind.”

“I don’t,” Owen admitted. “Not really. I guess I’ll just keep being there for him if he needs me. And if he wants to talk about it, then I’ll listen.” 

Martyn smiles. He uncrosses his arms and pushes off the bar as he reaches for another glass. “Good plan. And if you want there’s always the option to get him drunk and see if he’ll talk then, huh?”

“Martyn,” Owen hissed in disdain. “Don’t talk like that. That would never work.”

“Well, you might want to tell him that,” the older rat says, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. Owen was about to ask him what he meant by that when Martyn’s attention shifted from him to something behind him. “Hey Scott,” he called, holding up the glass. “What can I do you for?”

“Hey Martyn,” Scott’s voice drifted from the direction of the doorway. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here to see if Owen wants to grab a bite to eat.”

Owen’s breath catches in his throat as he whirls around to see his best friend stepping into the room. “Hi…” He breathes, feeling somewhat panicked. How much had Scott heard? By the serene smile on the farm rat’s face, he hoped the answer was ‘nothing.’ Scott didn’t look like he had heard anything from that conversation. “Hi,” he replied back. “Are you hungry?” “Huh? Oh, yeah. Actually. I’m famished. I just… let me just finish-”

“You know,” Martyn cut in. “I did just pour one out for Owen, and I have plenty of leftover steak I swiped from the pantry earlier today. How about I throw some on a plate for the two of you? On the house.” 

Owen shot the other rat a pointed glare, but Martyn was outright ignoring him. The older rat kept his eyes glued on Scott, who perked up at the idea. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you, Martyn. Here, let me pull up a seat.”

“Sure, and let me pour you one of your usuals to go with it.”

“Aww, thanks!”

Owen tried to stare down Martyn. Signal him with his ears or eyes. Something to get the other rat’s attention and get him to stop whatever he was getting at. Martyn noticed him. He smiled at Owen but continued to ignore him as he slipped into the back room to get the steak.

“This is nice,” Scott said, slipping into the stool beside Owen. “It’s been a while since we’ve eaten out or got drinks together. Hope you don’t have any plans after this, because if he starts playing Christmas tunes over the speaker we are doing karaoke.”

“Sure,” Owen said, nervously taking a drink from his glass. He was going to need it. “Let’s see where the night takes us.”

[whatliesbeneath-ao3]

MANAGERIAL NOTE: [WHAT LIES AHEAD]

There's only one report you've yet to read, but as you do, an odd sensation overtakes you—like you're clinging onto something, although you don't know what. These are all first days, so why does it suddenly feel like your last?

You aren't sure. And yet, with shaking hands, you open the last file.

In an empty room, self-hatred overflows. Chrys lifts the now-empty wine bottle, and smashes it full force against the wall with a scream. Her arms are bleeding from the strewn glass shards. The entire alleyway is filled with broken glass. If any regular resident of the Nest saw her, they would think she was so clearly from the Backstreets despite how well dressed and educated she acted now—there was something dirty inside of her—every inch of the emptiness was her fault, and she could never forgive herself—but what she hated more, what she hated so much more—

“It’s my fucking fault!” She screams, hurling another emptied bottle against the wall. She struggles to catch her breath as she leans over, head between her knees—and then she loses her balance on the tightrope and falls and the nausea is too much. She vomits up her hearty meal—a proper, balanced meal from a Nest, not a cobbled together nightmare from the Backstreets. She chokes, coughing for dear life as she squeezes her eyes shut before she can catch a glimpse of the ticking time bomb that was her watch. “It’s—ugh—it’s my fault…” 

She vomits up wine and a club sandwich, a fantastic combination to some and some kind of distorted dream for her—she’s read enough books now to understand that people who die and leave you behind want you to live a full and richer life even without them but quite frankly she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about how it’s supposed to be because they were supposed to be alive—and here—and it was her fault.

Chrys smashes her fist into the cobblestone ground, feeling her skin split and blood drip. Her knuckles brush against her own sick and it’s warm and squelching under her flesh and she’s reminded of them—of how getting devoured must feel—how afraid they must have been and how any of her ails would never hold a candle to how alone they must have been at the end—

She feels so deeply in her heart, woven into her soul, that they were beginning for her to come and rescue them as they died. She overslept—she didn’t hear it—but she heard it and she knew—she knew they were calling but she didn’t come in time and she was too late and they were dead and she was—she was—she was such a fucking waste of breath it made her sick, someone who can’t do a damn thing right should’ve died instead of them—

She screams her throat raw, knuckles bloody and bruised, stepping on broken glass, shards digging into her feet, a pain she deserved, a pain beyond well-earned. When she catches her breath, she goes to cry—and realizes she already was and always has been and always fucking will be—

And when she goes home it isn’t better. It’s kinder, and it’s worse, and it hurts more. Every day Chrys prays her mother might direct the blade of blame at her throat, every day she prays her mother might see reason and pin the truth on her—every day she prays some force strikes her down or at least gives her some sort of reason. 

Her mother treats her wounds but doesn’t ask how she got them, and that helps and hurts; it hurts like a sore scar, it helps like an infected wound; her mother’s touch is gentle and her eyes are kind. Chrys wishes she would hit her. Some sort of blame. Because it was her fault. She was asked only one thing, just one thing. 

No accomplishments of hers could ever, ever matter—if she could do those, then why couldn’t she have helped them. Why didn’t she hear them? Why didn’t she wake up? Why did she try to be so greedy? Why did she aim for higher when they were already as high as they could go? Why did those fucking Sweepers get their last moments when she always thought they’d spend them together—and she was jealous of their murderers—she was jealous of herself, for remaining alive in all her guilt-ridden agony.

Your heart twists for a reason you can't explain, as you look over the array of files around you—you realize it was like there was a garden around you, and you loved those flowers, but sown seeds strewn pulled you further and further away as the light scattered across the sky and City like a breath of fresh air. They needed to bloom out of your reach. Under new care.

But for now, for just a few moments more, you keep the bouquet close to your heart, and hold onto new beginnings for dear life.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I’m having a thought! So we all want to see Antoni smut cause we’re thirsty, but of course respectfully understand that he is Ace. But Artyom ….👀 OR Antoni remembers those things…. Endless possibilities there Ash

CW: At first NSFW for like... Four paragraphs, some initial consensual spice, more or less whumper POV in a way, death threats/murder, creepy whumper

Antoni allows no direct smut, Anon. This is as close as he will let me get.

-

Sweat trickles down the back of Artyom's neck, and his breath is hot and damp against hers. Her little cries are right against his ear, high-pitched. Her fingernails drag down his back, a little further with each rock of his hips.

He couldn't begin to describe how this feels. Hot, tight, wet - all the usual words come to mind but none of them are good enough.

Carly Riggs digs her nails so deep into his back he's sure he'll find blood later, whispering oh god oh god oh god as she comes. The way she goes tighter than ever around him, the prickle of pain near his shoulder blades, even just the way her voice sounds all overwhelms him and he follows her, eyes tightly closed as pleasure takes him.

The leather of her car's backseat sticks to his arms, his head nearly knocking into the door, but finally they slow and then stop, both of them breathing hard.

"Eto bylo khorosho," He groans. "Tak khorosho, tak korosho..."

Carly reaches one hand up to wipe the back of her hand across her forehead, smiling at him. It's a dopey expression, sweet and sated. He likes that look on her. "What?"

"Sorry. I mean... Very good. It was good." His accent is rougher just after sex, voice slightly breathless and rasping. He pulls back reluctantly, dropping a hand to dig around for his boxers and jeans. "We should do again sometime, see if I can be even better."

"Better than tonight?" Carly laughs, pushing herself up to seated, wriggle her jeans back up over her hips. "I might die."

"Only in little ways." He winks at her before pulling his shirt back on. "This is the idea, right?"

"Oh my god. Artyom, you are the weirdest." She's still grinning as he offers her a hand to scoot along the seat and finally stand. The breeze outside the car cools and dries the sweat on them both. Her hair is a rat's nest of tangles in the back, and they're both flushed and have a sheen of sweat. Not entirely subtle. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the party with me?"

"I am sure." He smiles, leaning back against the side of her car. She eases the door shut and follows suit, their elbows nearly touching. She yanks her tank top back down.

"Whenever somebody gets you to agree to a date, I bet you'll be an amazing boyfriend," Carly says, teasing and not-teasing.

"Maybe." He has no intention of dating anyone. Ever. But he doesn't say that to her. "Be safe at the party, eh?"

"Of course." She leans over to bump affectionately against him, as close as he allows to a goodnight kiss. "I'll see you at work on Tuesday, right? We both open that day."

"Da. You will see me then. Now I need to go inside. Keep off your lights until you are gone from my neighborhood, please."

"Just tell your mom to fuck off." Carly sighs, finger-combing her hair as best she can. "You're a fucking adult. Do what you want."

"Mmmn. Easier to say than to do."

It isn't his mother he is worried about getting a good look at Carly Riggs.

But he just gives her a hug, her perfume and the scent of them together a heady mix in the air, and opens her front door for her to settle inside and drive away, easing slowly down the road to make as little noise as she can.

His key in the lock makes only the slightest sound, and he oiled the hinges so the door never so much as squeaks. The house is dark and silent, the TV for once is off. He moves with perfect knowledge of every obstacle between him and his bedroom - avoiding the box of clothes for donating that has been sitting for three months now, his mother's little dog's pile of toys, even a kitchen chair out of place.

The vodka in the freezer pours easily into a shot glass, and he knocks it back to feel it freeze and burn, tasteless, down his throat.

Two more shots and the warmth spreads further than the cold, so he adds a little water to cover what he stole and puts it back, turning the bottle so the label is exactly the way it was when he came in..

He has long experience at this. His father will never know, never guess. The better for his health if his vodka turns more and more to simple water, anyway.

He showers, washing Carly off him as well as the smells of his job. When he checks the mirror after drying off and pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants, he sees - yes, scratches, with bright red spots where blood welled up, from just below his shoulder blades down nearly to his waist.

He smirks at the sight, but then realizes the bathroom door is open. His smile fades as his eyes raise.

Reflected in the mirror, Misha stares at him, expression somehow both empty and avid.

"... The bathroom is taken," He says, after a breath. His younger brother, head tipped against the doorframe and mop of hair falling over his eyes, smiles. It's thin, and it doesn't reach his eyes.

None of Misha's expressions ever reach his eyes.

"Got mauled by a tiger at work tonight?" Misha's voice is light. He makes a little claw gesture with one hand, fingers bent. "Rrrrow."

"Misha-"

"Which girl was it? The cute brown-haired one?"

Artyom turns away. "None of your business. Go back to bed." He wets a toothbrush and gets toothpaste, hoping to stave off the conversation long enough for Misha to lose interest.

At first, he thinks he might have succeeded. Misha disappears from the doorway, and Artyom makes his way to his bedroom in the dark. His father's snores are deafening, down the hall. His mother will be sleeping in the guest room, and even if she snores, too, it would be impossible to hear it over his father.

He pads barefoot over the hardwood floor until he heads into his room, letting the door close behind him and collapsing onto his twin-sized bed with his feet hanging off the end. He can hear Misha's television in his room going through their shared wall, low murmuring voices.

There's a beat of silence. Artyom takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, slowly exhales. Outside, the breeze shivers the leaves into a soft rustle. His clock reads past midnight, but if both his parents are asleep already, they won't know to bother him about it.

Not that anyone ever minds when Misha misses curfew, but if Tyoma is late, oh, let hell rain down...

He groans and rolls onto his side, pulling the covers up. He can feel bitter tomorrow. Besides

"The blonde, then?"

Artyom shoots upright with his heart in his throat, eyes briefly wide. "Chto za khren', Misha!"

His brother is a shadow in the corner, leaning against the wall with his hands in his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched.

Smiling.

In the dark, he has only even deeper shadows for eyes.

"Tell me which girl it was, Tyoma."

"I... Why?" His heart pounds, and he scoots until his back hits the wall, watching as Misha pushes lazily away from the wall and takes the two or three strides he needs to drop into the computer chair Artyom keeps next to his desk. No computer, but maybe one day. If he can save up.

"Because I want to know, dumbass." Misha laughs, leaning over. There has always been something strange about his laugh. "I want to know who's out there stealing my brother's heart."

"No one is." It's an honest answer. "Not sure I even have one to steal, Mishka." Less honest. But his voice is still too airy, and he can tell Misha enjoys the idea that he has frightened him. "It's just... friends with benefits. Da?"

"Is it?" Misha scoots the chair closer, clicking over the boards on the floor. Artyom feels strangely trapped, even though he could push Misha back and run. But he doesn't. His brother won't hurt him.

Not yet.

"It is." He drops his voice even further. "I promise, Mishka. There is no one outside the family. No one."

"No one but me." Misha is inches from him, his knees touching the side of Artyom's bed. Now light from outside, dimly white, glimmers over his dark eyes. "Right? Right, Tyoma? Family first."

"Right." Tyoma meets his gaze. Misha's eyes are like dead things, empty marbles in a moving face. "Family first. No one is more important than family."

"Right. And I'm your family. Me. So you can't run off to screw people if it means not taking care of me, right? If you get some girlfriend-"

"I don't even want one." Artyom cuts him off. Misha leans even closer, somehow. And there's a glint, a sheen of moonlight off metal. His little brother is holding a knife. "Carly and I are just friends who, who fool around sometimes."

"Carly, then." Misha's smile widens, like a skull's rictus grin. "The blonde. I figured."

Artyom winces, internally. But all he does is swallow the lump in his throat and nod. "Da, Mishka. She has a boyfriend at college. This is just for fun."

"Khoroshiy, Tyoma."

The silence draws out, and then Misha moves in almost a lunge forward and upright. Artyom flinches back, but Misha only ruffles his hair, giggling like he used to do when they were kids and he would push other children down the slide before they were ready.

"Relax. You are my family, too, Tyoma." He pats the side of Artyom's face. The knife in his other hand disappears back into a pocket, closed up into harmlessness again. "Family first."

"Family first," Artyom whispers.

Misha turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Artyom doesn't fall asleep until it's nearly dawn.

A week later, Misha calls him for help, and he spends the night digging a grave in the woods, just deep enough to cover two bodies with pine needles and fallen leaves without it being obvious. It takes hours, and his arms burn, muscles screaming for him to stop. He ignores the pain.

Misha helps, which he doesn't usually do. He digs, too, his eyes locked on Artyom's face. The dead bodies mean nothing, now. They've served their purpose.

"They're both pretty," Misha says idly. "Good luck I found them, huh?"

Artyom grunts.

"Hey. Tyoma." Misha snaps his fingers and Artyom looks up. Misha is only a couple feet away. He has the same look on his face as he had in Artyom's room the other night.

"Don't see her again outside of work, Tyoma. Don't. You don't need friends. You have me."

"... Mishka-"

"Don't 'Mishka' me. I said don't hang out with Carly Riggs anymore unless I'm with you. Okay?"

"... Yeah."

"Say you won't. Say it out loud. I can finish this myself, you know."

Artyom thinks of the knife Misha keeps, one he never uses on anyone else. He knows that knife is for him.

Artyom's heart pounds all over again, exertion and a dim terror beneath. "... I will not hang out with Carly without you."

"Good. Let's finish this up."

He goes back to digging, and Artyom follows suit, trying not to look too hard at the bodies.

A couple Misha saw in a bar and wanted to destroy. So he did. And now Artyom buries them for him, as always. Because his mother's heart would shatter if her youngest son was caught doing such evil things.

Because he knows what he must do to protect the brother who has been the center of his life since his birth. The brother who will one day, he thinks, be the center of his death, too.

He feels Misha's eyes on him like a brand as he dumps shovels of dirt over the open dark, slightly feline eyes and messy dark hair of the man. The tangled blonde hair and bright blue eyes of the woman. She has a t-shirt on from the restaurant where Artyom's been working.

It isn't a coincidence. It's a message, and Artyom understands.

Family first.

Or else.