#my writers block is finally no more :3

[crow-talks-hockey]

Killing Strangers - an Avalanche mob AU from multiple POVs (Mikko, Nate, and Cale) pt 3

Mikko tried to calm his nerves. Just be okay. Just be okay and we’ll get you safe. He ran a hand shakily through his curls, anxiously pacing back and forth. Gabe laid a hand on his shoulder and Mikko stopped, turning to him with worried eyes. “He’ll be alright, Mikko. Everything’s gone to plan so far, Artturi can handle himself, you know that.”

Mikko swallowed thickly and nodded. Gabe was right. He shouldn’t be too worried. Artturi was scrappy, not exactly strong but he could slip away pretty easily if it came down to that. Mikko exhaled loudly and stood still, fiddling with his hands and picking absently at his skin. “I know. I know, it’s just… I don’t want him hurt,” confessed Mikko, trying to keep his gaze on the wall ahead and not darting every which way, searching for Artturi’s small figure.

“I know the feeling,” agreed Gabe as he readjusted his suit button and smoothed down his tie. “This is necessary for us, though. He’s giving us valuable leverage, you understand that, right?”

“Of course. I don’t doubt your plans, it’s just difficult being away from him so much. Always is,” Mikko reminded his boss plainly.

Before Gabe could say anything else, Mikko was moving forward. Artturi was walking down the alleyway cautiously, looking around slowly with his hands in his denim jacket. It was Mikko’s loud footsteps that alerted him and immediately Artturi’s face snapped to him and broke into a smile. Mikko crashed into him, lifting the fellow Finn in an embrace. Mikko buried his face into Artturi’s neck and laughed. He set Artturi down gently. “Hi,” he greeted sheepishly.

Arturri’s teeth flashed white over his lips in a grin, he playfully shoved Mikko away. “Hi.”

Mikko jabbed back at him, and managed to mess up Artturi’s sheaf of hair over his eyes. Artturi shot him an annoyed look and he pushed back his thin, blonde hair so that it didn’t fall into his eyes. He readjusted his jacket, blushing faintly. “Senkin ääliö,” he muttered in Finnish. 

Mikko sighed and responded back, “Ah, mutta minä olen ääliösi.”

Artturi rolled his eyes and pulled Mikko closer to him, looking up into his starkly blue eyes with adoring curiosity. He’d always reminded Mikko of a cat, or rather, possibly a kitten. “Exactly,” Artturi admitted, switching to English.

Mikko felt himself leaning down, everything else around him becoming nothing more than TV static. Before anything more could happen, however, Gabe interrupted. “Excuse me, lovebirds, but we have places to be. This is no safe place, I’m sure you’re both aware.”

Mikko pursed his lips and shrugged apologetically at Artturi. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

Gabe nodded, eyes glinting with something faintly untouchable. “That’s what I figured,” he boasted. “I have my own man to get home to.”

“Oh, you mean the one you pissed off? That one?” Mikko gave Artturi a sly grin, letting him in on the fun. Artturi may be quiet and gentle, but he could chirp along just fine.

Artturi gasped falsely, “Oh, Gabe. Are you just jealous?”

Gabe climbed into the front seat and started the engine of the car, it rumbled to life and Mikko held the door open for Artturi to sit in the middle beside him. Gabe scoffed, offended, “What? No. And I didn’t piss him off.”

“Oh yes you did too. Why else would he not come along?” Mikko implored, still light-hearted.

“Because he’s busy sulking around at me doing my job. We argued, but it isn’t my fault he’s taking it way too personally. And sure, maybe I did bite his head off just a bit…” Gabe trailed off and shook his head. The defeat was evident in his silence.

Artturi smirked and tapped Mikko’s shoulder. “There it is.”

“Just apologize,” suggested Mikko. 

Gabe turned the car out onto the road and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “He won’t accept just that. The man holds a grudge like hell,” Gabe sighed.

Mikko met eyes with Artturi, gaze dark with something eerily close to desire. “I know what else he’d accept…”

“Mikko!” Gabe exclaimed with a shocked laugh.

Mikko brushed his fingers along Artturi’s jawline and the Finn blushed a deep pink, his mouth just barely agape and his head tilted at an imploring angle. “What?” questioned Mikko innocently, eyes so warm with love he wondered if Artturi might actually melt. “I know it works on Arsi,” Mikko continued, hardly aware he was even speaking.

Artturi giggled, and before finally pulling him in agreed, “Yeah, it does.”

Mikko leaned back against the plastic of the door, it dug uncomfortably into his shoulder blades. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Artturi had always been a gentle lover, nothing was ever harsh and aggressive with him. He was just… kind. Mikko adored it. Their job was a hard one, and even Mikko found himself hungering for revenge and violence more than he liked to admit. Unlike him,  Artturi stayed level-headed; he did the job that was required, but his hands stayed soft and loving. 

Mikko felt the denim and thick stitches of Artturi’s jacket, the way the clothing folded as he moved to hold Mikko’s head in his hands. Mikko grasped Artturi by his torso, pulling him ever so slightly upward as he pressed his forehead against his. Artturi grinned, pushing back stray curls from Mikko’s face. Mikko gave him one last short kiss, and then laid his head on top of Artturi’s. He closed his eyes, embracing the silence. 

Gabe eyed them through the car’s front mirror, but didn’t say anything. Artturi winced, drawing Mikko’s attention. “What?”

“Nothing, the seatbelt…” Artturi searched for the word but came up blank, “thing is digging into my hip.” He moved himself off Mikko’s thigh and sat close beside him, nestling into Mikko’s chest as he threw his arm around Artturi.

The drive back was pretty long, dark, and quiet. Mikko didn’t mind the silence, it was calming. They were on the outskirts of the city, far out from where any dangerous gangs lay. He thought of how they’d gotten here as the buildings and streets passed by in a haze.

Artturi had needed to come up with false information to get back home from his stay with the Lightning. He’d been under a false name, of course, acting as a lowly Avalanche member ready to sell them out for better cash, which the Lightning were happy to provide. For almost two months, Artturi had been known as a spy for the Lightning. He’d made trips to and from their territories, coming back from the Avalanche with just enough of what the Lightning wanted to keep up the ruse. All the while, he’d been collecting intel on the Lightning, sneaking around in the shadows to follow the bigger pawns in their game when he couldn’t get access to meetings for confidentiality. Gabe had come up with the idea, and surprisingly, everyone had come out almost unscathed. Mikko found it hard to believe. They had information, leverage. Sure, they’d lost some valuables and cash to it, but it had gone as planned. Part of him felt eerily uneasy at that.

Maybe this was too good to be true. Artturi opened his eyes and looked up at him, brows slightly furrowed. Mikko exhaled a breath, his chest tight. Something felt wrong. “What?” Artturi questioned.

“Were you followed?” Mikko asked.

“I… no. Why? I’m more careful than that, you know that.”

“Gabe,” called Mikko, getting his boss’ attention at the tone of his voice, “pull over.”

“Why?” began Gabe slowly.

He was cut off by Mikko’s exasperated sigh, “Just do it.”

Gabe’s brows rose, but he obliged and the car came to a gravelly halt. Mikko got out of the car and observed his surroundings. It was dark, the neighborhood of apartments and small businesses that lay just outside the city’s heart quiet. Mikko paused, pursing his lips as he waited. He could taste the faint salt in the air as he ran his tongue across his lips in waiting. He slowly grasped the blade at his hip, his hand hesitating on the handle. 

Then, out of the shadows three figures in suit and tie appeared. One of them was tall, big in stature like Mikko, with a scraggly beard and deep brown hair. His hands were tattooed with deep shooting streaks of lightning and his eyes were a cold enough blue that they stood out even in the dark. Beside him, in the middle, stood a slightly shorter man with blonde hair— almost like Artturi’s, but cut shorter. He smiled politely, his stance relaxed and calm. On the right of him was another brown haired man, he looked younger than the other two, maybe Mikko’s age. His hair was curly and went down his neck, about to his shoulders. His face was pale, his mouth stern set, his eyes focused intently. Part of him reminded Mikko of a large cat, just waiting for the signal to pounce. Each of them wore suits in varying shades of blue, white, and black.

Mikko tensed, staring the three down with threatening intensity. Bolts, Mikko registered faintly. He cracked the tension out of his neck, folding his hands in front of him. They stood there, silently squaring each other up for several moments. Suddenly, the tall man on the left came forward. Mikko was quick to draw his blade from its sheath, the steel hissed and glinted in the muted lamplight. 

The man in the middle held up a hand, tsking loudly as he shook his head. “No, no. Don’t you worry, we aren’t here to fight.” His voice turned dark with a premonition, “Not yet, at least.”

 The man with the rings and tattooed hands, held out something white and glaring. A… note? Mikko assumed, perplexed. Slowly, Mikko took the paper from his hand and the man said, Scandinavian accent thick, “We see you soon. Have a nice day.”

They turned away and had disappeared into the shadows before Mikko could say another word. Mikko stepped back abruptly, fingers already moving to tear apart the envelope. He scrambled into the car, taking his seat beside Artturi and slamming the door shut. Before he or Gabe could ask a thing, Mikko’s face paled and he cursed, “Shit…”

“What?” Gabe implored, voice heavy with concern.

Mikko held open the unfolded paper in his lap, letting it fall halfway out of his grip.

They have me.

Nate’s handwriting. The page was smeared with old blood and graphite. Mikko could barely think, he said the words without knowing, “They have Nate. They— the Lightning have Nate.”

Oh, they’d royally fucked up this one.

***

Nate slowly blinked awake, taking in his surroundings as his eyes unblurred and refocused. There was a cuff around his left wrist, and it was attached to a cold wall. Where the hell was he? The room was grey, barren, and painfully lit with bright fluorescent light. His neck stung… had he been drugged? Seriously? Could he not catch a break? Fatigue tugged at the edges of his mind, dimming his ability to think or register anything. The last thing he remembered was coming out of Pavel’s place to get some fresh air with Cale. Then… then what? He couldn’t articulate the memories.

Nate stood, hissing in a breath as he leg buckled and the cuff tore into his wrist. This was not good, to say the least. He needed to get out. Nate looked to the ceiling and around the floor for any vents or windows, anything. The only thing was a large opening in the ceiling, its grate had been removed and was letting in flowing gusts of air. Nate cursed under his breath. He couldn’t reach it even if his legs were good. Nate sat down in a thump again on the rickety mattress. Outside the room— or rather, cell— voices were barely audible. They weren’t close, however, and Nate suspected screaming or clawing at the door would do no good. He was trapped here, and it was for a reason. Nate was leverage now.

Nate thought through the long list of enemies he had; which ones were in correlation with the Lightning and those that may have received word of him ruffling the feathers of other gangs. Even cutting it down to that left a large number of groups, not just singular people, but entire gangs of angry people. Nate rubbed at his eyes, he should have figured this would happen. He’d just gotten healed enough to start working again, and he had picked up right where he left off. He’d raided warehouses, tortured men that Gabe wanted information from. He’d been the rabid dog, nipping at the heels of those that wanted him dead. This was the repercussion for his actions, though Nate wouldn’t dare regret anything he’d done. If the Lightning wanted war, he’d give it to them on a silver platter with no questions asked.

Nate cracked his knuckles and laid his head against the cinderblock wall. He just hoped Cale was alright. He’d been with the twenty-four year old when he’d been taken, and he could only assume that might mean he was here too. God, Nate hoped not. A familiar anxiety tightened his chest as the realization that he could have put Cale in danger again. He exhaled a shaky breath, trying to calm his out of control nerves. He’s fine. He can handle himself, Nate reassured himself, He’s probably out looking for you. He’ll be— He’ll be okay.

It was the creak of the metal door that tore Nate from his worries. Nate froze and looked at the face in the doorway. He titled his head to the side inquisitively, lips drawn in a thin line of hatred. The man before him had ruddy brown curls and beard, and his eyes were a deep coffee brown. His cheeks were reddened, not quite like Cale’s, but similar. He was average height, maybe an inch or so taller than Nate was. He wore a red suit and a black vest, complemented by a stark white button-up. Nate’s words were a growl, “Larkin.”

The boss of the Red Wings flashed a bright smile, familiar and close. “Nate. How have you been? I assume you’ve been well; bodies are piling up at my doorstep because of you.”

Nate laughed, cruel and bitter, “Yeah. I’ve been good.”

Larkin stepped closer to Nate, studying his tired and injured features with plain curiosity. He breathed the barest laugh, shoulders shrugging. It seemed to say, Oh how far you’ve fallen. He spoke candidly, “You know, there was a time when we really could have used this you. A time when you could have picked up good cash, too. A shame it had to come to this, truly. But, I’ve waited a long time to capture the Näken’s wild dog, so how can I complain? You are quite valuable.”

Nate felt his cheeks heat with anger, but he stayed still. He didn’t enjoy being talked about like an object. Larkin snapped his fingers towards Nate, and two other Red Wings came into the room. One held Nate’s right shoulder with an iron grip as the other undid the cuff at his other hand. They forced him to his feet and then threw him down before Larkin, holding him still. Nate fought them, as that was only instinct, but he was too tired from pain and whatever it was they’d drugged him with to make any good moves against them. His attempts were futile, and Larkin seemed to delight in his frustrated screaming. Nate shook back the stray strands of hair from his face and glared at the man before him, his teeth bared in disgust.

Larkin crouched down, drawing a dagger from his suit, it glinted in the fluorescent light. Nate glanced at it, eyes glinting pridefully despite his predicament. Dare me, urged Nate. Let’s just get this shit over with.

Larkin grabbed Nate’s face with his hand and tilted it this way and that, the blade pressing lightly against his jawline. Nate scowled, pushing away the urge to just bite his hand in retaliation. Larkin hummed under his breath, examining him closely. “I see why they run from you. You’re excellently built, Gabe is lucky to have you as an asset. Well, he was.” Larkin’s brows rose and he noted, “And you have a startling lack of scars for the kind of work you do. You must be better than we thought. It’s a shame that we have to ruin it, I don’t like wasting talent the likes of yours. But, a job is a job. I’ll get what I want— that being a healthy amount of money—, and you… you’ll suffer.”

With that, Larkin drew his blade up and across Nate’s face and abruptly stood. He removed his white pocket square and cleaned the bloody dagger. Nate barely even hissed in a breath at the familiar feeling. Larkin nodded, impressed. Casually, he readjusted his suit and cleared his throat before expressing, “I’ll be back, I’m sure you know.”

Nate smirked. Of course you will be.

Larkin laughed, amused at Nate’s resourcefulness. “I just had to make sure you could even bleed,” he admitted, and then turned and was gone.

The men beside him released him and Nate fell to his elbows, his head pounding and ears ringing as blood slowly streamed down his face. Dimly, he heard the men walk away scoffing and the door slammed shut. Nate was shaky, and what felt like all of his energy had been used in staying upright and attentive to the situation. He laid his hands behind his head, trying to feel the texture of his hair to calm himself. He thought of Cale’s warm smile, of him pulling Nate in, of his loving eyes. What if they’d hurt him? What if Cale hadn’t been able to escape and he was here? No, no if he was here Larkin would have already used him as leverage to get Nate to give him what he wanted. Or rather, what the Lightning wanted. Larkin only wanted the money that came from capturing and torturing him. 

Nate stared at the concrete, mouth agape as he fought for breath. Come on, Nate. Get it together. He’s fine. You— you’re fine. You’re going to get out of here and you’ll both be just fine. Just focus on getting the hell out of here. But how? How? Nate shook his head to himself. This wasn’t something he just got out of, the only escape was death. He had no options. He was weak. He was hurt. He was in need of saving. Either he died or someone else was going to, either way it was too complicated for him to accomplish right now. 

Nate forced himself to breathe and get to his feet. He laid down on the tattered mattress, laying an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the blinding light. His heart was sinking, and tiredness set in next to sadness. Nate was both feeling so much and so little, it was unfathomable. He  wanted home, he wanted Cale. He wanted to see Landy and EJ, to laugh with them. He wanted to go out with JT, Mikko, and the others. Nate turned to face the wall and closed his eyes. A part of him even wanted to see Sid again. His old mentor, the one that had taught him so much even though he hadn’t joined his gang. He would kill to just sit around with the people he loved, to be near and close to them.

Nate listened to the buzzing of the light. The Red Wings probably loved seeing him like this; unarmed and with no one to hold close. Nate almost laughed. Maybe that was the real punishment that Larkin was giving. Nate could take blades, bullets, punches, and any kind of pain, but this? Being alone? That was something Nate hated more than he cared to admit. He missed the support of his friends and of Cale, the way they never questioned how he clinged to them. Tiredness tugged at Nate’s thoughts, and before he knew it the world had gone dark and sleep had taken him. He slept dreamlessly and with an empty feeling in his chest.

***

It was the night when Artturi was supposed to return that Cale had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He’d let Nate go. They’d been in a meeting, with EJ leading in Gabe’s absence, and planning out their next move against the Lightning. They needed to make allies, and they were currently working on negotiations with a close by neighbor of the Lightning: the Hurricanes. It had been a stressful two months, and this meeting was even more tense than usual. So, Nate and Cale had stepped out of Pavel’s place to get some fresh air. They had just stood, holding hands, against the brick wall as they simply existed together. 

Then, pain had exploded in Cale’s skull and his knees had buckled. He’d wanted to stand up and fight, so bad. He had wanted to help Nate. But he’d only watched Nate throw helpless blows at his much larger opponents through blurring eyes as the darkness pulled him deep into unconsciousness. He’d seen Nate go limp in one of the man’s holds as the other drugged him with a needle and the last thing Cale had registered was the face of his broken watch. A reminder of what he could not do, of why he was here in the first place. His brother.

His brother was why he was here, or rather, the way he’d failed his brother was why he was here. They had been much younger when it had happened, Cale maybe sixteen and Taylor about fourteen. They’d been stupid, and it had cost them. One night they had decided to plan a heist. It was supposed to be simple, something just for fun. They had a neighbor, a rich neighbor, and around town he’d been known for being a watch collector. He fixed them, sold them, bid for them, loved them more than anything— as his wife had passed away before either of them had been alive. 

He and Taylor had worked their routes, gotten their angles, and eventually everything had gone to plan. They’d managed to steal what they wanted without much trouble, that being two watches with one for each of them to fence. It had been oddly quiet afterward, but neither of them had worried much about the fact that Mr. Howe had never reported anything missing to authorities. Taylor and Cale had celebrated their cleverness, enjoying the reward of their crime. Well, they had until the fateful evening in March when they’d been walking back from school. Three men, still bearing the traces of boyhood in their features— they couldn’t have been older than twenty— had appeared in the street and dragged them to the alley.

Cale still hated himself for not defending them both. He’d taken every punch, every cut, everything they had and he had done nothing. It had gone so fast. He’d watched Taylor crumple to the concrete against the wall as one of the men stabbed his blade into his side and the other yanked the watch off Taylor’s wrist. Then the third man had thrown Cale beside him, and— as he saw the watch at Cale’s own wrist shatter into worthlessness— he abandoned ship. The men had only laughed, examining Mr. Howe’s watch and remarked to each other how much they’d be paid for recovering the old man’s valuables.

Cale had cried like a child that day, sobbing uncontrollably as he watched Taylor’s body go cold and his eyes glaze over. “I’m sorry,” was the last thing his brother said.

Cale still wasn’t sure how many hours he’d clung to Taylor’s body, pleading for him to do the impossible thing and wake up. The night had passed and by the next morning, the authorities were prowling the town with loud sirens. They must have been searching for him, probably because of his parents, but Cale did not want to be found. So, Cale had done the unfathomable: he’d let Taylor go, stood, and left him. 

He’d run as far as he could, as fast as he could and eventually his running had brought him crawling directly to a Swedish man named Gabriel Landeskog’s doorstep. It was there that he’d joined the Avalanche. And it was there that he’d learned that Mr. Howe was an old boss of the Red Wings gang, and that those boys were competing to get in. It was there that he met the young, stubborn, and blood-thirty Nathan MacKinnon. It was there that Cale decided he would never make the mistake of not defending those he loved again, but it was also where he decided he would never rob someone of their family again— even if they had none. 

Ever since Cale had done his job under the contract that he would not kill a man. And he did his job well. He made the impact he wanted and left it at that, keeping the shattered watch he’d stolen as an eternal reminder. He never took it off except to sleep. It was the only thread of peace he had left. It was Taylor’s ghost, keeping him in line. Cale was paying his penance in living, breathing blood.

Now, Cale had again failed his brother. He had made the exact same mistake with Nate as he had with Taylor. Nate could be dead, and it was his fault. It was his fault all because Cale couldn’t muster the strength to just stay conscious and fight for him. He was just as weak as he’d been in that alley years ago. Time had moved on, but Cale was stuck in place. 

Cale opened his eyes, flexing his hands against the concrete and wincing as a piece of broken glass poked at his skin. He stood, and watched as Gabe’s car pulled up to Pavel’s. What was he going to tell them? How was he going to tell them? He dusted off his suit, ignoring the blinding pain in his skull. He felt the back of his neck, it was sticky with dried blood. 

Gabe was quick to storm out of the car, Mikko and Artturi— Cale breathed a sigh of relief, at least Artturi was okay— followed close behind. Gabe froze at the sight of Cale, his face paling. “Cale,” he breathed in relief, “you’re okay. That’s good. I— I have something to tell you.”

Cale’s brows furrowed. “Of course I’m okay… I was just about to tell you something, too.”

Gabe peered close at Cale, stepping forward to examine him. He patted Cale’s arms, and motioned for him to come inside with them. “You don’t look okay. Let’s get inside, shall we?”

They filed inside and got their seats, Gabe pushing EJ away urgently when he tried to greet him. Gabe did not sit, he leaned over the table, head bowed. He motioned for Cale to speak first. Cale swallowed thickly, trying to clear his head. “Nate—” his voice broke and he closed his eyes. Get it together. Cale tried again, “Nate’s gone.”

Gabe, Mikko, and Artturi’s heads snapped up. They looked to and from each other and Cale gave them a confused glance. Did they know something he didn’t? Without a word, Mikko reached into his suit pocket and unfolded a piece of paper. He slid it slowly to Cale, looking guilty. Cale’s expression softened. It was Nate’s writing. He was alive.

“H—How?” stammered Cale, “Where?”

“We don’t know,” admitted Gabe. “Three Bolts showed up and gave it to Mikko. Nate could be long gone by now, and we don’t know who might be allied with them. They wouldn’t send him to someone obvious. We’re in the dark here. That means they want something, and… and if they don’t get it we all know what they’ll do to him.”

“So how the hell do we find him?” Cale snapped, exasperated.

Gabe hung his head and shrugged. The room was tense with silence, everyone thinking about the situation they were in. Nate meant something to all of them here. He was a friend, a son, a lover. Artturi spoke up softly, “We may have more leverage than you think.”

Collectively, everyone seemed to come alive at that. Gabe nodded for Artturi to continue.

“I— I spent a lot of time with them. They liked hearing me give them information on us, little secrets in the alleys, warehouses, and whatnot. In turn, they let me make runs to some of their allies. The secret ones, ones they made just because they are our enemies. I also did some of my own research, sneaking around when they sent me off. I think I could narrow down some searches, if that would help,” offered the Finn. “I know some guys that might talk, too.”

“Yes, please,” sighed Cale. “I… I can’t lose him again.”

Artturi nodded curtly and he stood, peering at the map of the city. He picked up a pen and began to scribble, pointing here and there at the marked territories. Every once in a while he’d explain who ran a warehouse, how occupied a building was, the security in the area. They spent until past noon of the next day just running over plans over and over again. Gabe would send out men to go and search, others would run to their own allies and make negotiations. Cale helped debrief the men Artturi suggested as malleable and manipulable. 

Light filtered in through the huge, decorative windows of Pavel’s place. Cale was only vaguely aware of time and its passing. The others had brought food a couple hours ago, and then a few had gone on break so— Cale closed his eyes in thought— it might have been around four. Tiredness was making his eyes sting, and staring at a computer or a book hadn’t helped either. He was fatigued, stressed, and in dire need of caffeine despite already having plenty. Gabe laid a hand on his shoulder and Cale’s breath caught as he flinched. Gabe looked royally unimpressed.

“You should go and get some sleep. You aren’t doing us any good doing—” Gabe motioned wildly at Cale’s messy notebooks and the several open tabs of his almost dead computer— “whatever this is. You’re getting sloppy and unhelpful.”

Cale gave Gabe an offended look. “I am not getting sloppy.” He rubbed at his eyes, his hair completely mussed out of control. He held up one of his notebooks pridefully in Gabe’s face. “I’m helping, see? I can’t sleep anyway, I’m too busy worrying over Nate. Every moment we spend resting is a moment where he could be laying dead on the floor of some abandoned warehouse. I can’t let that happen. I thought you would understand.”

Gabe shook his head and gently sat down Cale’s notes. He heaved Cale to his feet and immediately Cale’s vision blurred. He blinked rapidly, eyes watering and head buzzing. Cale’s grip tightened around Gabe’s forearm as he swayed slightly. Maybe he should have gotten up and stretched. Oh yeah, and he probably should have eaten something and had water, too. That would be good. Cale’s throat felt like it was coated with wool and absently his stomach growled. Definitely needed food and water. Good idea, Cale, he praised himself. Thanks, Cale.

“I do understand. But you need sleep, you should see yourself. I’ve never seen someone with eye bags as bad as yours. You look awful,” expressed Gabe. 

Cale hung his head, he knew Gabe was probably right, and even if he wasn’t Cale wasn’t going to win the argument. Gabe was too stubborn for that, Nate must have gotten it from him. Cale sauntered over to the stairs and hesitated on the railing post. “Fine. Just don’t let me sleep too long. I can’t miss anything.”

Gabe grinned. “Of course,” he said, though both he and Cale knew that Gabe would let Cale sleep to his heart's content anyway. There was no way in hell Gabe was going to force Cale to wake up because of a lead that might run dry anyway.

Cale could barely even heave himself up the stairs to the next floor. There weren’t sleeping areas on this floor, but as Cale looked up the next set of stairs he thought to himself, Screw it. So, he settled for picking an office to crash in. He moved down the hallway, looking for a good room. He found one at the end of the hall and quickly made his new home on the couch. Sleep hit him like a truck, and within moments Cale was out like a light. 

It was Valeri’s kind features that he awoke to, with the big Russian gently nudging him into consciousness. Cale had red marks on his arms from how his skin had stuck to the leather for too long and his cheeks were flushed. He groaned, trying to force his mind to rise with him. “How long have I been out?”

Val smiled warmly and helped Cale to his feet. “Day and a half or so. Do you need water?”

Cale swallowed thickly, cringing at how desert-dry his throat felt. “Yes,” he replied all too quickly. Val handed him a cold bottle and Cale drank longly. “Thank you.”

“Gabe wants you. We have something.”

Hope leaped in Cale’s chest and he grinned. He was quick to follow Val down the stairs, and he was at Gabe’s side within moments. His boss eyed him, silently giving him an I told you so. Cale ignored him. He did feel better. That was beside the point, if they had a shot at finding Nate Cale was going to take it. He wasn’t going to abandon him.

“We have a guy,” Gabe announced. “It turns out your scribbles were helpful. Mikko and Kurtis are going to bring him in tonight. Hopefully he’ll talk.”

Cale nodded. “That’s good. Is he from the Lightning?”

“Yeah. Mid-level guy, we might have to do more than just offer him cash to get him to talk, but I assume you have no problem with a little bit of bloodshed. Given that this is important, especially to you.”

Something dark settled into Cale’s expression. He looked at the watch on his wrist, the way it ticked on helplessly out of rhythm. He thought of Taylor laying in the alley alone. He thought of Nate, screaming out with no one to save him from an inescapable fate. He stared at the messy map and the notebooks filled with information that lay next to files on other gangs. Part of him wanted to laugh. No, he did not mind bloodshed at all, he decided. Not when it came to Nate. Cale covered the face of his watch and looked at Gabe. “Of course not,” he agreed, hating how candid his voice sounded.

Cale saw Gabe’s jaw tick, his lips pressed into a thin line as he fought not to smile. He patted Cale’s back and ran a hand through his strawberry blonde hair. “Good man,” complimented Gabe and he turned to leave. “I’ll see you back here tonight.”

“See you,” Cale replied back. 

He sat down, pulling a sketch of the man closer. He stared at the notes and the drawings longly. He closed his eyes and set down his head. Cale fiddled with his hands, unable to stop the anxious feeling from tightening his chest and making him feel breathless. He rubbed his temples, reaching over the table to grab a scone from the middle of the table. He needed to distract himself. Worrying was doing him no good. All he could do was hope that the man would talk, and that Nate was still alive. 

Cale doodled on an empty page of his leather-bound notebook absently. He sketched Nate’s familiar profile, trying not to be utterly saddened by how much he missed him. Aggressively, he erased the start of his drawing and redrew the circle for Nate’s head. He exhaled, thinking of Nate in his mind’s eye. Cale embraced the silence, clearing the worry from his mind and focusing solely on the task at hand. He sketched Nate’s blade-like nose, his stubborn jawline. He smiled as he penciled in Nate’s slightly wavy hair that was currently in need of a cut. Cale set down his pencil and brushed over the graphite with his thumb, blending out the color slightly over Nate’s imaginary cheek. He sighed, the emptiness of the room bleeding into his lonely heart. The second he looked away from the paper, Nate disappeared again. 

Cale was alone here. Maybe forever. Nate was nothing but lead on parchment.

The sun was beginning to set, golds and pinks from the sky filtering into the large, intricate room. The sun coated the tall pillars and maroon walls in an orange hue. Cale sat at the table, completely in the center of it all, his hair illuminated into a chestnut color. Cale outstretched his hand to the middle of the table, reaching for the sun’s warmth. Specks of dust floated up in the air from his books and maps. Cale drew back his hand and eyed the scone beside him. He stood, appetite having been  lost to his focus minutes ago. Cale slipped on his grey plaid suit jacket after removing it from the edge of his chair. He ran a hand through his hair and readjusted his storm colored tie. Cale turned away and abandoned the paper profile of Nate, the stale scone, and the bright setting sun. There was work to be done.

Cale was finally ready to do what was necessary.

[owtenen]

When a Ranch Becomes a Home (pt 1???)

Tango, despite his best effort, dies. Unfortunately, he has a lot more than just death to deal with after.

read my stuff of AO3!

CW: Depictions of anxiety, minor panic attacks, and tango gets blown up.

————

Tango was just thankful this game happened during the summer.

His body was still cold, and when the wind picked up, he felt the fire on his head fight for its life to stay alive. But all in all, it was better than last time. The cold winter air and stormy rainy nights made it almost impossible for the blaze born to function properly, but this time it was different.

He felt good. He had armor, he had food, he joked with his friends and made some new ones. But behind all of the it, there was a little nagging thing in the back of his mind.

It took Tango a while to realize it was anxiety.

He didn't really get anxiety, which is probably why he didn't realize it at first. He was a man on practicality, a man of smarts. He knew he could talk himself out of any anxiety he found himself clouded in, so he had never really felt the hollowness in his stomach like he did now, or the way his heart jumped when he thought about it.

It was faint though, like it wasn't really there at all. That is, of course, when Tango realized it actually wasn't there. That is was his soulmates. Whoever his soulmate was was really stressing out, and only when Tango realized it did it start to actually effect him. Like when he was talking to Bdubs and Impulse, he had to stop for a moment to breath, his soulmate had fallen off something and it hurt his ankles, but the pain in his stomach from the anxiety his soulmate felt was somehow worse. He needed to find them, whoever they were.

It got worse as he was going deeper in the cave, it started creeping into his own thoughts as well. Maybe his soulmate had a reason for being this anxious, maybe they were in trouble. Maybe he was in trouble.

An arrow shot right through his arm, and it took a minute for Tango to register the pain. He turned around quick, but there were too many monsters coming after him to process what was happening. He swung his sword with one hand, making sure to step back with each swing. He was getting through them one by one, if he just brought them to a choke point-

That's when the creeper dropped, and thats when everything went black.

~

"Common..." Jimmy found that muttering under his breath as he scaled the mountain to actually be quite helpful. His arms and legs hurt like hell though, and he was having a difficult time breathing.

He felt a shattering pain rip through his left arm, but he just shook it out and continued to climb, "Don't. Even. Think about it." Finally, he got to the top, and he looked out over the sky as he tried to catch his breath.

He felt another jab in his side, and then he felt a sharp snap in his ankle. He winced and clutched his stomach, the random bursts of pain were not helping his anxiety.

He would not be a burden to his soulmate. He would not damn them the way he had already damned himself.

He felt a few more jabs in various places around his body, and as he was thinking what on earth his soulmate was doing, he felt a searing pain ripple up his back, and he fell to the ground to die.

He wakes up sweating, he didn't think he was sweating before, but he certainly was now. Sitting up from the grass, he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, his breath coming in short, uneven huffs that made him feel like he wanted to throw up. The place on his back that hurt the most was pulsing, and he felt paralyzed.

Suddenly, he heard a tree branch crack, and a voice coming from above. Was it God? Was it Them? No. Jimmy shook his head to clear the fog that clouded his brain, looking up to see what was happening.

He saw a man in the trees. Well, calling him a man was maybe a stretch. He had seen him around. Tango if he remembered correctly. He was the blaze born that hung out with Impulse and Etho. Redstoner maybe? Wasn't this the guy with cows in the first game? Jimmy's head started throbbing along with his back, he tried to ignore it.

"Oh no...." He heard the man mutter under his breath. The flames in his hair were big and wild, and yet they didn't set the tree on fire when they jumped up to meet the bark.

"What happened, Tango?" His voice was tough, and he fliched at his tone. When he looked up, he noticed that Tango did too.

"I'm- I'm so sorry." Tango leaned over and put his head between his knees, his legs dangling off the branch. "I'm so sorry."

Jimmy took a deep breath, and then another, "What happened?" His voice was softer then, and he was satified.

Tango sniffed, and ran a hand through his flaming hair, "I was caving, and there were about 500 mobs coming at me from one side and while I was worrying about them-" He looked up, and the two soulmates made eye contact for the first time. Jimmy smiled, maybe it would ease Tango's mind. It must have, because the man in the tree paused to give Jimmy a small smile of his own, "You know, the old creeper-from-behind trick."

Jimmy nodded, looking around spawn where just a few hours ago, was filled with everyone. He realized with a jolt that he was yellow, the first yellow. He quickly took out his communicator and read the chat, every joke and taunt making the hole in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.

~

Jimmy's anxiety was just getting worse. Tango watched in silence as he watched his soulmate read the comms messages about their death. He wasn't completely oblivious, he knew the jokes that were said about him.

Cursed. Stupid. Careless. Jimmy's friends would always say they were taunting him in good fun, but Tango never felt comfortable enough to go along with it.

"Jimmy, right?" Tango hopped down a couple branches before landing on the ground, his back was still stinging, and he didn't need broken ankles on top of that.

He watched Jimmy come out of a trance in real time, his eyes going from little glossy things to wide alert oceans. “What?”

Tango shook his head and held out his hand, “I’m Tango….” after a pause, he awkwardly added, “of the Tek variety.”

Jimmy, despite it all, chuckled softly. “I’m Jimmy.” He thought for a moment, and Tango could see the gears turning behind his eyes, “of the…. Solidarity variety?” He shook his head in disapproval. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Good enough for me.”

Jimmy smiled, and Tango felt the anxiety lift just a bit. Until it came crashing down again, and Jimmy ripped his hand away from Tango to run it over his hair. “I have no idea where I was.” He looked back at Tango, and his wide eyes were filled with worry, “All my stuff is gone.”

Tango sighed, “Yeah. I have no idea where my stuff is either.” He thought for a moment, watching Jimmy as he began to pace around the top of the hill. He wanted to shake him, tell him to breathe and calm down.

Instead, he started picking up sticks, “Let’s make a chest here, then we can go find out stuff and meet back up.”

Jimmy turned and watched Tango, his arms were crossed and one of his hands was up near his face, and Tango raised an eyebrow while he watched Jimmy bite on his fingernail.

Tango sighed, “I’m really sorry for killing us. It’s one thing for me to explodificate myself but I didn’t want to take you down with me.”

Tango saw Jimmy smile behind his hand, and the tightening of his chest had nothing to do with the anxiety, “Explodificate?”

Tango smiled and threw some materials at Jimmy. He didn’t catch it. “Common, let’s go hide our bits in a tree.”

This time Jimmy’s head tilted back in laughter, and Tango wanted to bottle up the sound.

The anxiety didn’t come back as strong after that, and Tango was happy for it to stay that way.

————

i should be working on Problem of Etho and my other 24lsmp fics and yet here i am writing about a dead ship from a 10 month old smp …. oops?

[watery-melon-baller]

lads a script is being written!!!

[universalsatan]

how am i supposed to collect my gay little shows when i am sleeby and work and have to rewatch the multi-seasoned shows i literally just finished

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[neuvistar]

Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?

Sfw and NSFW

Like I'm brain dead for them

DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one

— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated

⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!

“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.

“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!

“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.

aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.

aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink

sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.

“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!

his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—“ “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!

your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”

⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!

you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!

“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.

"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.

he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[emberwhite]

I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

[fushitoru]

EDIT: check out the series here!

thinking about writing a bridgerton!gojo fic (series?)....

duke gojo, who has stirred up everyone and their mamas with news of how he is finally joining the marriage scene this season after years of fooling around. of course, to no one's surprise, he is the season's most eligible bachelor. he's the strongest, whether that be in terms of wealth or other manly pursuits gentlemen ought to be good at. gojo isn't marrying for love. he just needs to be tied down to secure his inheritance so he can gamble and fool around at the gentleman's clubs with his friends until he drops dead one day.

you seek to be the perfect daughter in front of your parents. you have been taught to be the picture of grace and nobility, proficient at all things a lady must be good at: needlework, art, music...you name it. but deep inside, you have an affinity for literature---feminist literature. you secretly feel aversion towards the idea of marrying just to be a submissive wife but will not show it. you are perfectly content marrying any man that should not harm you as long as he has the means to provide for you and make your family proud.

upon your presentation to the queen, you are immediately crowned a diamond. the first ball of the season comes, and gojo undoubtedly has his eyes sight on you as the diamond of the season. after all, why would a duke need to settle for anything less when he can buy the shiniest jewel?

on your dance with him, you give all the template responses. "i would sire as many kids as my husband desires." you are afraid of pregnancy and even more so of raising kids. "of course I read byron!" you hate byron's poetry.

gojo is content, and you, tired of all the stares and hushed whispers that have followed you through the night, leave to get fresh air outside in the terrace. only to overhear:

"a bit simpleminded. has no opinions of substance that should cause conflict. she's perfectly fine for a wife. i shall begin courting her and will soon pro---"

at that moment, you have one thought in your mind: you will never marry satoru gojo. in fact, you abhor him.

cue insults thrown back and forth. when it comes down to having to marry gojo, the most eligible bachelor and the option that will make your parents the proudest, will it be a matter of fillial piety or...love?

dear reader, this season has definitely come forth with many promises of thinly veiled hatred, jealousy, and burning passion.

oops this is longer than the silly little thought i wanted to post but welp. the smut i have planned for this is outright nastyyy

comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this

i also promise i have not forgotten about beach boy gojo :3 running into a bit of writer's block for that so my inbox is always open for ideas <3

[st0ryf1lms]

is it really you? ➳ ken sato

pairing: ken sato x reader

word count: 866

genre/warnings: fluff, sort of a crack fic, 3+1 things, wrote this with a sarcastic tone LMAO, a bit of profanity, grammatical errors most likely (wrote this at 1AM), reader uses fem pronouns

synopsis: the 3 times kenji sato swore he saw you, and the 1 time he actually saw you.

a/n: yes, i'm finally giving in to the kenji sato brainrot HUHUHUH if i had known he was the reason my writer's block would disappear, would've watched the movie sooner i'm ngl edit: AAAAAA WHAT 600+ NOTES??? U GUYS ARE INSANEEE I LOVE YOU ALL this is now up on my ao3!!

At the New Tokyo Dome at his first game as a Giants player

Maybe he was just dreaming, maybe it was the fatigue actually catching up to him ever since he hopped off that plane, or maybe he did actually see you in that stadium amongst the crowd cheering his name. You, as in his childhood best friend, arguably one of the best parts of his childhood in Japan before leaving for LA. You, as in the childhood best friend he never got to say a proper goodbye to. You, as in the childhood best friend whom he always missed and cried to his mom about whenever he'd get homesick. (You, as in the childhood best friend he'd harbored a secret crush on as a kid. As an adult? Psh, what sane person gets hung up on a person who must've forgotten him all those years ago. Not Ken Sato, for sure, yeah, uh-huh.) He'd never know for certain, of course, because as he was about to stop and look, a Kaiju crashed a KDF plane into the ceiling of the stadium.

KAIJU ALERT, his watch blared in an angry red face. He sighed, making his way to the nearest stadium exit and heading towards the dimly-lit part of the street by the stadium. Not without stopping for a split second because he thought he saw your silhouette. Silhouette, really? My God, Kenji, pull yourself together, he told himself. Of course, that wouldn’t be your silhouette because he definitely doesn’t know what you look like anymore, what food you like, what your job is, how you held up after he left for LA. Of course, he doesn’t know that.

Shaking off any more thoughts of you, Kenji turned into his giant alter-ego to fight off the Kaiju wreaking havoc on the streets of Tokyo. (a distraction, really, as Mina would say.)

2. On a grocery run looking exhausted as hell.

It had been two weeks since he took in the baby kaiju in his basement and Kenji Sato has never been more exhausted. If you ask him, exhausted would be an understatement. Nevertheless, his mind was actually alive (much to Mina's surprise) because he swears this time, that he actually saw you. With his own two eyes. As if locked in a daze, he secretly followed you like a lost puppy with a push cart in the grocery store before realizing you were heading for the exit. He stopped in his tracks as the doors opened for you, realizing the items he got weren't paid for yet.

Begrudgingly, he went back inside the grocery and got the rest of the items he needed before going back to his house.

Next time, I swear, I'll talk to her, Kenji said to himself as he drove back to his place.

3. During Emi's acid reflux rampage.

Shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself like a mantra as he zoomed across the streets of Tokyo on his bike, trying to chase after the pink baby kaiju that somehow escaped his basement that he explicitly placed under the care of Mina (in case you couldn’t tell, he's definitely glaring at his AI assistant). Looking at the construction site beside him as he sat in traffic, an idea popped in his head. He could use that to give him a boost to quickly get to the baby. He rode up the makeshift ramp and turned into his giant alter-ego, catching his bike in time.

"Holy shit." He froze. Goddammit, had he really been that careless? Changing in front of a civilian? Nervously chuckling, he turned around to face the owner of the voice, mentally preparing his response [read: excuse] only to be wide-eyed and speechless. The owner of the voice was you. You, as in his childhood best friend, whom he's been trying to catch up with ever since he landed in Japan.

"What the fuck! Ultraman is Ke-" You exclaimed before you got rudely interrupted by the giant superhero. "Hey, shhh! Can we, like, stay quiet on this matter? I know I don't have an NDA right now but my bike will suffice, I guess. I'll get it back from you, I swear, I just really have to take care of this right now. Treat you to our usual spot? Thanks!" He said frantically before running away to take care of his huge baby problem.

Not really the best way to reconnect with your childhood best friend.

+1. After the battle at sea with the KDF.

"Hey, sorry for being late, had to take care of something." He apologized as he jogged up to you on your usual hang-out spot when you were children. You reassured him, saying that you had just arrived, too. "I didn't know what kinda stuff you eat now as an athlete superstar so I just went for the safest convenience store options." You said sheepishly, holding up the plastic bags with a weary smile. "I don't mind, I actually like convenience store snacks." He beamed on how you still remember what he used to like as a kid.

"So, Ken Sato, gonna explain?"

"Oh, you're gonna want to sit down for this."

[rerefundslocals]

CLOSER TO YOU

Summary : Jungkook missed your important merger event for your company and a promotion you've been anticipating, he's apologizing for the wrong things, however it makes you love him harder.

>>pairing : jungkook x fem!reader

>>genre : angst, smut , fluff

>>trope : established relationship

>>warnings : mechanic!jungkook (not mentioned alot), corporate!reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk(min), spanking, oc is a creamer and squirter,rough missionary, neck kisses, makeout sesh, very light dom/sub tones, they really just cute.

>>word count : I'll add later.

[a/n : I'm bacckkk, I wrote this all in one sitting,my writers block is over and I will be writing a lot more when I have a chance cause school is kicking my ass omg! thank you for all the follows, this is my little treat to you. Enjoy!! reblog, reblog, reblog, that's how Tumblr works, but anything will suffice for now! come talk to me and send requests, I don't bite<3 p.s this is heavily unedited]

[listen to : closer to you - jungkook. if I ain't got you - alicia keys. bloom - aqyila]

(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)

It's thick

The tension between you and jungkook.

You could not believe it yourself when Jungkook showed up an hour later after the merger event of your company, not when he promised to be there.

It was insufferable to face your colleagues without a plus one while their partners had held their hands the whole night. Marie did not bite her tongue when it came to asking you about where your partner was.

Yes, you were incredibly embarrassed and just contemplated staying in the bathroom stalls the entire night.

You have a scowl on your faces as you sit in the passenger seat of Jungkooks fucked Nissan Almera. Jungkook does not make attempts to apologize and it has been that way since he picked you up and quite frankly you're getting sick of it.

"Jungkook, seriously! Are you not going to fucking apologize for how you embarrassed me tonight?!" You finally let it out, screaming into the space of the car.

Jungkook avoids your question and simply presses on the gas to get  home faster. There's no traffic tonight.

You huff as you cross your arms and stare daggers at Jungkooks side profile. "So, I'm just gonna talk to myself then?" Again, no reply.

However the lack of response from your boyfriend does not stop you as you relay to give him a piece of your mind. "I just wanted you to show up, Jungkook for the one time I ask you to accompany me and this is how you fucking treat me?" You take a deep breath as you continue.

"Fine. Miss three dates that I've planned for us, but missing this important opportunity of my life...you must not love me, Kook."

"Don't say that." Jungkook finally whispers into the car. He just wants to fucking get home, But that's another 10 minutes.

You laugh, but its not full of humor, it's an annoyed breath of laughter. " and why not, Jungkook?" You question

He turns to look at you as you're stopped at a red light and his eyes look heavy and tired, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled up. "If you wanna talk, we'll do it when we get home. Please. I'm begging you, baby."

You stay looking at him and your eyes never leave each other until the sound of a honk takes you both out of your daze as Jungkook drives off, not once waiting for your response.

A sigh is heard in the car and you turn to look at the city lights, hopefully he gets the hint that you'll have the conversation at home.

10 minutes later you're finally home and out of your heels, however you do not waste time getting back into the conversation.

"So why, Jungkook, why weren't you there? Did you know I got a promotion? And you weren't fucking there to stand by my side. Worst of all, Marie threw it all in my face. So where the fuck were you?" You've rambled but you're angry so Jungkook isn't mad in the slightest.

You've always loved the fact that he is incredibly understanding.

"I'm scraping the floors, ____. I'm barely getting by to pay our fucking rent so sue me for taking an extra shift at the workshop so you can get all the nice things you want." He responds to you, running his hands through his jet black hair.

You look around the gloomy apartment as you pretend to not understand what he had just said to you. The kitchen light shines on you both as you're both sat at the bar stools at your counter.

"I'llet you know that I don't need any nice things, I just want you. You're the only-"

"but I wanna give you all the nice things you want and I'll work twice as hard to give you anything."

It's as if he doesn't get it, he's the only thing you'll ever need.

Your head is hung low as tears gather at your waterline, you'd hate for Jungkook to see you cry cause you know how much he detests it. He fucking hates it.

"I-I love you so much, Kook. But as much as I do, I don't need nice stuff, I need you to be there for me, we just need each other. So stop taking extra shifts, I'm working as well and we can have nice stuff if we just love each other and be there for each other. Okay?"

Your voice sounds heavy, the tears have hit the counter and your back is being rubbed by Jungkook.

To avoid further arguments although he doesn't fully agree, he makes an oath to himself to get a better job and get you a life worth of all the beautiful things you want.

"Okay, baby. I'm sorry, I'll be there for you all the time. You know I love you, right? You're my favorite girl." It felt like years since you've heard Jungkooks heartful chuckle.

He lifts you by your shoulders and forces you to look at him, "I said you know that I love you, right?" You stare lovingly in his brown Bambi eyes as you nod.

Finally, he circles his arms around your waist, standing up as he brings your face into his chest.

You feel complete and whole as you melt into your boyfriends arms, there's no one like him, you don't think they'll ever be.

You lift your head as you hold out your pinky finger to him, eyes meeting once again, "pinky promise to never leave me."

Jungkooks lips spread into a wide smile as he locks his pinky finger into yours, "I pinky promise, baby."

After what seemed like years you both laugh lightly at each other, pinky fingers still interlocked.

"Mm, you know you can't break that promise." You teasingly say.

Jungkook chuckles and brings your locked fingers to his lips and laying a light kiss on your pinky, "wouldn't ever think of breaking this promise, Princess." He whispers against your pinky.

You sigh out a low 'okay' as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his lips unto yours. His soft pillowy lips meet yours and you both dive into a passionate kiss, Jungkooks head tilted to the side to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist to grip the skin underneath your black bodycon dress.

Your kiss becomes a fury for passion and lovemaking as your tongue envelops Jungkooks mouth and a soft moan can be heard throughout the kitchen as you moan into Jungkook mouth.

Jungkook peels off your mouth, leaning in to attack your neck in a series of kisses.

"K-kook, please!" You need him so bad, your breath is hitched as you fight for air and your moans are being progressively loud from Jungkook eating your neck.

He lifts his head up, going straight to undress you, you're peeled of your seat and onto your feet. Your dress is stripped off and you're only left in your skimpy black thong, your plump ass all bare for Jungkook as well as your tits.

Jungkook takes your lips once again, leaning  down to pick you up and as he does, he balances you with both hands on your ass and wastes no time laying a slap upon both cheeks and greedily squeezing a handful as you let out moans into his mouth like a mad woman. "Fucking love your ass." He practically groans into your mouth.

Soon, you're backed into your shared bedroom and jungkook throws you onto the bed.

Jungkook tears his clothes off layer by layer until he's left naked and his dick fully hard and bare of any hair is on show.

He spreads your legs as he settles between them, and pulling your thong to the side as he swipes a finger between your folds. "You're so fucking wet, all this for me?"

You can't seem to focus when Jungkook pushes in two fingers into your puckered hole, his speed taking off as soon as he feels you around him. "O-oh fuck, Kook!"

"Mmhm, that's it baby, taking my fingers so well." He fingers you for another 10 seconds until he's pulling out and immediately replacing his fingers with his pink tip, slowly sliding into you tight and wet walls.

"Ohh fuck!" You both moan at the same time, the feeling of his dick deep into your stomach as he starts his strokes off slow.

Your eyes are barely open as jungkook goes at a relentless speed, thrusting into your pussy as if you owed him something.

"That's is baby, cream all over this dick, and spread your fucking legs higher." You're drunk on his cock as he fucks you missionary, feeling him in your organs.

"I'm gonna cum, Kook!" The knot is getting tighter as you feel your wetness trickling down your thighs and your creamy essence coating Jungkooks dick.

"Cum for me, baby. You deserve it. Cum all over this dick." That's all it takes for you to release all over Jungkook, as a scream is let out from the depth of your lungs.

"Good girl." He never stops thrusting as he chases his high, Jungkook presses onto your stomach as he groans, as he feels his high approaching. He's sweaty above you, his dry hair now wet and stringy.

Your moans and Jungkooks are in sync as you feel your tummy tightening once again.

"Fuckk!" Jungkook finally cums and releases his load into your pussy, and you follow right after, squirting all over his lower abdomen.

"Shit." You let out as jungkook rolls over you as he watches you gather yourself.

He gets up and gets a warm wet towel for you. Jungkook cleans himself up and you. Soon after he dresses you up in fresh panties and his shirt and for himself he gets boxers and joins you in bed after an eventful night.

Your head is on his chest as you play with is belly button and Jungkook is in deep thought.

"I'm sorry, baby. For tonight." He finally says and your heart relaxes.

"Let's forget about that. You're here right now, that's all that matters."

"Congratulations on your promotion, I love you, Princess." You're surprised he even remembers and all you can do is let out a squeal.

"Thank you, and I Love you."

"I know." His tone is cocky, not that you care but you're giddy as you lean up to lay a peck on his lips.

There's no where else you'd rather be. That's what you declare.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

original work of @rerefundslocals do not copy, translate or repost as your own! est. 2024

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

hiii i love ur fics idk if ur requests are on rn but can u do a short drabble of the tiktok trend where the guy hasn't ask his gf to be his valentines day so she "put him on sale" as a joke ofc but she's like

BF FOR SALE ($3.50)

- amazing cook

-crusty feet

- will buy anything u want

any character is fine but i would love katsuki or shoto!!

LMFAOOOO this is for sure the funniest ask ive gotten yet😭😭😭 this is so cute !! and very long overdue I apologize writer block devil was rlly kickin my ass😞 valentines been over but yk i had to write this ! i was rlly hesitating between writing for shoto or katsuki and then i realized i could write for BOTH OF THEM!! and so i did ! i tried honoring your request as best i could, hope you like it <3 !

no pronouns mentioned, pure tooth rotting nasty fluff, use of petnames (my love for shoto and sweets, babe and idiot (lol) for katsuki), katsuki is an asshat but when isn’t he, shy katsuki, shoto is a bit of an airhead, kissing, biting, reader is petty asl lol, lemme know if i missed something else !

todoroki shoto ♥︎

“yn, my love.”

“yes, shoto ?”

the corners of shoto’s mouth pull into a tiny frown at the usage of his first name. no baby, no hun, not even sho. just shoto.

“did i do something to upset you ?” he asks carefully from his spot at the foot of your dorm bed he seems to be stuck at, he can’t bring himself to move until he knows if you’re actually mad at him, and he has an inkling you are.

you look up at him for no longer than a second then look back down at your phone screen “what makes you think that ?” you question back nonchalantly.

“you posted something on your tiktok account..” shoto doesn’t have a clue how to have this conversation with you and it makes him a little nervous, he regrets not going to izuku for advice after all.

“mhmmmm~” you hum, urging him to continue knowing damn well you know what he’s going to say. you wanted to hear him say it himself.

you know shoto’s had no previous relationships before you so these type of things probably don’t mean as much to him as they do to you, but doesn’t everyone want their boyfriends to ask them to be their valentine ? you sure do, and your boyfriend hadn’t asked you to be his yet, so as petty as you know you were being at the time you posted the tiktok he’s no doubt here for right now.

shoto feels like a criminal on trial desperately trying to plead his case with you being the judge. tentatively, he asks “ you said you were..putting me up for sale ?”

immediately it’s like a switch had been flipped. you place your phone down onto your bed next to you, shoto wishes he could take your phone’s place. you cross your leg over the other and bring your hands together like a super villain revealing their master plan “yes. yes i did.”

“oh.”

silence. nothing.

shoto tried—he’s trying. he’s trying so insanely hard to make sense of everything that is you but he simply can’t. he breaks eye contact to think of more to ask but his attention is quickly pulled back to you when he hears you whine.

“uuuuughhh shotoooo~” you moan, throwing your head back against the headboard. “you’re not supposed to say ‘oh’ !” you’re face changes from grumpy to deadpan as you lower your voice slightly to try and mimic him. on any other day this would’ve made him laugh but he’s beyond lost at this point. he clears his throat before speaking again.

“ i don’t know what i’m supposed to say—or what i did for you to want to sell me.” he thinks “and for 3 dollars at that.”

you let out a laugh when you process his words and shoto’s shoulders magically feel lighter at the sound. carefully, he slides a little closer to the side of your bed so he can stand at your bedside. little by little. you pretend you don't notice.

"it's what you deserve for not askin' me to be your valentine."

the secret’s finally out and you get to see how the cog wheels in his head are starting to turn in real time, it has you holding back a giggle when he looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“is that..why you were mad ?” you nod, humming out a playful mhmm

“ya really hurt my feelings you know ? to think my own boyfriend wouldn’t ask me” you clench your fist over your heart and fake sob dramatically.

shoto huffs out a laugh, relieved to see you’re not actually mad, and goes to sit down on your bed. he tentatively reaches for your hand and squeezes it twice when you let him hold it. before bringing it up to his lips and placing a sweet little kiss to it. it feels as if pop rocks are going off inside of you.

“ i’m sorry for not asking you to be my valentine.” he apologizes, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing your hand “ i was thinking i should’ve, but i didn’t want you to think it was weird since we’re already dating.” his thumb goes to run over your fingers “ i was worried me being too intense would scare you off.” he mumbles.

your eyebrows furrow, you lean towards him to make him look at you “ you wouldn’t scare me off, who told you that ?”

“kaminari. he said ‘coming on too strong scares away the babes.’ ” shoto quotes

you sigh. of course it was that bigmouth portable charger filling his head with this stuff.

you pull your hand out of his grasp and he looks up to protest but you grab his face in your hands before he can say anything, you can practically see him start melting at the contact as he blinks at you slowly, he reminds you of a cat.

“sho” you purr, rubbing his cheeks “ rule number one is never ever listening to kaminari’s dating advice. most of the time it is very wrong.” you explain.

shoto presses his mouth to the palm of your hand “yeah, i’m starting to regret that now.” he speaks into it, you snort. he leans in closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips and you reciprocate, pressing a few more kisses on his lips for good measure “ i’m really sorry for not asking you.” he says in between pecks. you hum in response to him placing even more kisses all around your face. “s’okay. i’m also kinda sorry for putting you up for sale.” you say, running your fingers through his hair while he places kisses on your shoulder.

he lifts his head up to look at you then, an eyebrow raised with an amused expression on his face “kinda sorry ?” he asks.

you nod “mhm. kinda sorry.”

he chuckles to himself, then gets up so he can climb into bed next to you. when he’s positioned how he likes it, with his head in your lap while you comb through his hair with your fingers, he sighs peacefully “well, it wasn’t all bad. i’m glad you think i’m a good cook.”

“what about the crusty feet ?”

“i’m choosing to ignore that part.” shoto smirks lightly to himself when he hears you laugh at his joke, clearly proud of himself for it. “and i will buy you anything you want, to make it up to you.”

“i don’t need you to buy me anything, sho” you roll your eyes with a lovesick smile “ all you gotta do is ask.”

he blinks up at you, looks off the the side as if he’s deep in thought, and suddenly gets off your lap to sit right in front of you. you never think you’ll get over how pretty your boyfriend is and being reminded of it with how close he is to you makes you flustered. he leans in to kiss you passionately and you don’t know if it’s the love he pours into it or the lack of air that has you so dizzy, you don’t dwell on it.

when he pulls away he’s looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky and he simply, almost shyly smiles at you and asks.

“ will you be my valentine ?”

bakugou katsuki ♥︎

you did not expect katsuki to come barging into your dorm room five minutes after you’d posted your tiktok. the loud sound of someone banging on your door and proceeding to let themselves in seconds later causes you to let out a squeak.

in comes katsuki, phone tightly clutched in his hand and the moment his eyes zeroed on you he’s like a bull charging at a red flag. he stands right in front of you, angry frown on display before he shoves his phone in your face.

“explain this. now.” he growls, you have to hold back a laugh, keeping your face as calm as possible you look between him, his screen then back at your phone.

“what’s confusing about it ? i thought i was being pretty straight forward.”

his eye twitches. “why the hell did you put me up for sale ?! and for three dollars and fifty fuckin’ cents ?!” he exclaims, you can’t help the snort that bursts out of you, though katsuki doesn’t look as amused as you are.

“explain.” he deadpans.

“i think you can figure it out.” you shrug back.

he mutters insults to himself that you can’t catch “well obviously fuckin’ not, cus I wouldn’t be askin’ you if i did.” you simply shrug and look back at your phone. “i wrote it in the caption.”

it takes him a second to process then he’s tapping his password and opening the clock app at super sonic speed. his eyebrows furrow and you see him tapping away at his phone. his eyes widen when he reads your caption and he looks down at you with a mix of desperation and disbelief.

“you’re mad cus I didn’t ask you to be my valentine ?” your bratty huff and turn to the side as you shrug again is all the answer he needs. he looks at you for about 5 seconds longer then sighs.

he sits down on your bed and keeps staring. katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things and one of those things is you ignoring him. a warm hand on your ankle startles you and you can’t even ask him what he’s doing before your being yanked towards him. you squeal, almost missing the smirk on his face or the huff of laughter at your reaction. almost though, so you glare at him. katsuki looms over you until your noses almost touch, then you turn away with a huff. he chuckles, pressing his lips to your neck.

“ yer such a baby, y’know that ?” he mumbles, smirking against you neck. you huff but make no effort to shrug him off “ no i’m not, jerk. is it so wrong for me to want my boyfriend to ask me to be his valentine’s ?” you grumble, trying to ignore the feel of his warm lips against your skin, it’s not working so well for you.

“s’not what i’m sayin, sweets” he nips at your earlobe “‘m sayin’ ya coulda just told me ‘stead of bein’ a baby about it.” you can’t tell if this is his way of trying to apologize. either way, you don’t want to give in just yet.

“i’m not supposed to tell you to ask me to be your valentine’s katsuki, that’s not the point~ !” you huff petulantly. you feel a but childish but, c’mon ! it’s a given to have your boyfriend as your valentine and it wouldn’t hurt your demon spawn of a boyfriend to be a little but romantic once in a while.

he playfully rolls his eyes at you “see, what’d i tell you? big baby.” leaning forward he nips at your nose making you groan and trying to push him away with your palm. katsuki being the powerhouse that he is, doesn’t budge. “ i didn’t think to ask ya cus you’re already mine. so why should i need to ask something that’s a given ?”

your heart beats faster at his words and katsuki takes his chance when he feels you loosing up more and more. suddenly he’s got your wrists in his grip, holding them above you and looking down at you with that sickeningly handsome smirk. you’re almost there, he can practically feel it.

“i—i’m..still mad at you” you stutter out weakly, your defenses are down.

“yeah ?” he taunts.

“yeah. apologize.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes lightheartedly “why should i apologize ? you said my fuckin’ feet stink.”

“ ah, ah, ah.” you tut “don’t put words in my mouth, i said your feet were crusty.”

“yeah, thanks babe. that makes it so much better.” he sasses, you laugh “and i complimented you ! i said you were an amazing cook !”

“yeah but that ain’t a compliment, ‘ts a fact.” he says matter of factly, you’re eyes threaten to get stuck at the back of your skull with how hard you roll them and he snickers.

he dives in and steals a kiss, and then another one when you don’t stop him. when he pulls away to catch his breath, ready to steal another kiss you stop him by placing your hand on his chest. he looks down at you questioningly and you give him a raised brow in response. he groans.

“fine. m’sorry” he concedes quietly

“foooorrr ?” you urge.

he narrows his eyes at you as if saying “don’t push it” but swallows his words down “ for not askin’ you to be my valentine’s or whatever the fuck” he shoves his now hot face into your neck and mumbles “now quit bein’ all pissed at me.”

you’re happy enough with that, so you wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands creeping up his nape and into his hair. he sighs contentedly, clearly enjoying the attention you’re giving him.

“thank you. i’m also sorry for saying you have crusty feet.” hearing him scoff at the accusation makes you giggle “and for putting you up for sale.” he hums, happy with your apology.

“..kinda.”

“oi.” he warns. you giggle in response continuing your ministrations in his hair.

“you still haven’t asked me so..” you trail off. he lifts his head up to look at you with a blond eyebrow raised.

“ does this valentine shit really matter that much to you ?” he asks.

you respond immediately “yes.” nodding aggressively to make your point.

he sighs, shaking his head. he looks at you, then looks off to the side in embarrassment, he can be so cute when he wants to be. steeling his nerves he looks you straight in the eyes. fearless with fierce red cheeks and all.

“b-be my valentine, idiot..”

[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ MEETING THEIR FAMILIES -HEARTSLABYUL VER.

warnings: bad treatment towards reader (Riddles part), bad writing :3

summary: You meet their families

characters: Heartslabyul x F!Reader

word count:

a/n: I originally planned to do all in one part but I decided not to since it's so so much and I'm currently having a writers block but I wanna make you guys happy so-its in parts :(

Riddle

Riddle's mother is a strict woman, and she does not hide her dislike for you. She frowns the moment she sees you and crosses her arms. The situation is tense as she watches you, her gaze sharp and unblinking. She seems to be considering your motives with her son, but it is clear that she has a low opinion of you for some reason.

Riddle is nothing compared to her; he has no power, he's weak standing beside you. Yet, he stands proud, he loves you and no matter what his mother will say, his mind won't change. "Mother," he begins. She shoots a hard look at him. With that stare, she seems to say 'do. not. talk."

Riddle goes silent. He knows that if he does talk, it might ruin her approval...if that will ever happen. But you decided to speak up, nervously, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Riddle has told me so many lovely things of you!" you bow down, showcasing your respect. His mother's expression does not change. She seems to consider you for a while before speaking:

"Do you think yourself worthy of my son? Do you think you are a good match for him?"

It's clear that she is sizing you up, and her gaze is piercing.

"Yes." Riddle grabs your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Showing you his support, no matter what he won't back out either, cause he knows whats coming. Your words only draw a frown from his mother. Her expression turns sour.

"I do not think you can give my son the life he deserves. You are too low class for a nobleman. It is clear why you would date him, but what do you have to offer us? It would disgrace his name and our family to wed a commoner. A magicless commoner!" She continues to size you up. She is relentless. Her frown only hardens with every passing moment.

"My son is a nobleman. He deserves a woman of nobility. Riddle dear, I know the perfect girl for you she-" "No!" His voice rings through the halls with booming thunder.

"How dare you," he shouts, his eyes like daggers. He looks as though every muscle is about to tense up so hard it'll burst. "She is good enough. She is worthy of my love. There is no one in this world who I will ever love and admire more! If you don't agree with this relationship then-!...Then I might just leave.

Riddle is standing protectively in front of you now. His heart is thrumming so hard he can feel each pulse. His last words were spoken unsure, timidly, but it's the truth.

"...Then do."

Trey

Trey's parents are thrilled to meet you. The moment they saw you at their doorstep, they took you into their family. They are gracious hosts, offering you food and drinks as soon as you step into the house. Everything is warm and welcoming. Not to mention the cake they baked for you!

The afternoon tea goes smoothly, with conversation flowing as easily as a river. "Again, thank you so much for the tea and cake! It was absolutely delicious!" "It was nothing," Trey's mother says as she refills your mug. She smiles warmly, keeping herself composed with effort. She has heard a lot about you, after all, and the impression she has received so far has been wonderful. Its hard for her to contain her pure excitement, she might explode. All her husband can do is calm her down with a hand on her shoulder, smiling both at you and his wife.

Trey doesn't dare say anything, his lips pressed shut in a smile as he watches from his place. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, content to watch you and his parents interact.

"BROTHER!" You hear two voices yell from the hallway...seems his siblings arrived from school. Trey's young siblings finally make their grand entrance, their voices filling the room with an unexpected cacophony of excitement and joy. The scene is a chaotic one, but in a good way.

His younger brother runs up to you immediately, "Oh-Oh-! You're the pretty girl-!" Before you can question anything his sister also tunes in, "Ohhh-! She really does look as sweet as gum drops-!" "You two, shush immediately-! I'm so sorry-!" Trey's mother apologizes for the behavior of her youngest children, but you shake it off. How could you ever be upset about the honesty of those sweethearts. You definitely will have a word with Trey once you get back...

Cater

Cater never kept it a secret, how much he despises his sisters and mother sometimes. More than once he told you stories. But he has also told you that slowly, the relationship gets better...slowly.

Cater's mother is especially overbearing. She tries her best, but she seems almost incapable of not adding only their favorite sweets to the tablem. She is a bundle of nerves, and she often dotes on Cater. It's as if she finds comfort in treating him like a child, because he is so quiet and calm. Yeah, quite and calm, if only they knew who he truly was.

"Thank you so much for having me." a genuine smile sets on your lips as she pours tea into your cup. "We are so glad to have you," Cater's mother says with genuine warmth.

His sisters continue to prod you in both questions and comments, being too forceful and tactless at times. They think they're being endearing and curious, but don't quite realize that they're over stepping. Cater sits beside you, his eyes darting back and forth as the questions keep flowing. Hes annoyed, of course they will ask inappropriate questions and take the attention.

"Where was the first kiss?" "Ohhh my god did he use his tounge?" "Cater, your hair today looks frizzy." "You look cute but...that top with those jeans...i don't know. Cater you should really watch what your girlfriend wears!" "Yeah! Spend some money on her, damn." "Bad boyfriend."

The constant barrage of questions and comments from his sisters would make even the most stoic people wither. You are not one of those people - you are more patient than you ever realized. You smile through the barrage of words, answering most that you can, ignoring the rest. It hurts, some hurt. You get Cater now to 100%. Your calm demeanor and soft eyes would calm anyone's heart, but his sisters are a bit too persistent, their endless questioning seeming to have no end.

This goes on for some time, until Cater is visibly agitated. "Stop," he says under his breath. He is usually calm and collected, so it draws everyone's attention, even his mother's. "What?" One of his sisters finally asks, feigning innocence.

"Enough," he says simply, but his tone is enough to get them to back off.

He takes a few breaths before giving his mother and sisters a smile. The situation diffuses, but you can sense that he is annoyed. "I just wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, we didnt came here for an interview. Her outfit is perfect, and I'm NOT a bad boyfriend! I know I'm not..."

Ace

Ace's older brother is charming, witty, and well-liked by everyone. He teases his little brother without any cruelty, making lighthearted jokes at his expense. He is very protective of Ace, he just wants his little brother to be happy. And obviously he wants him to behave in this relationship too.

"He has spoken of you a lot," the older brother comments, his tone teasing. His brother wiggles his eyebrows towards him,  "A bit too much, it seems," Ace says, keeping his voice low, but you hear the annoyance.

"I can't help but hear all about you whenever he's calling me... how much he cares for you, how he's so lucky to have you..." his brother's tone is good-natured. He's just having fun, and hes so glad his brother found true happiness. "Ohh, what else did you say?" Ace can hear the teasing in your voice, no way you're going into this too. "Shut up-!" "Oh, you know," the older brother laughs. "He says you are the sweetest, most beautiful being in the whole wide world. You're an angle with the patience you have for him. He would do anything for you without a second thought. He swears he has never loved another as he has you."

"What a mushy little guy my brother can be," his older brother says, sounding amused.

Ace is turning red. His voice comes out slightly strained, cracking. "I-! I NEVER-! Shut up I never said anything like that, that's way to sappy!" "Mhmmmm, sure bro, sure" His older brother smiles, genuinely.

"I've never seen him so happy," he says, "He's truly a good guy, he just has some rough edges. I'm glad someone like you took their time to get to know him...Take care of him for me."

Deuce

His mother beams. "Oh! This is the one you've been telling me about? You've done well. She is a beauty!"

Deuce's face is tomato red. He is the picture of nervousness, his eyes darting about the room with his mouth clamped shut for fear that he will say too much or too little. His mother's enthusiastic and effusive approach is overwhelming him. He wants to sink into the floor, damning himself for telling his mother and grandmother about you so much. "We are so delighted to have you here. Please," his mother continues, offering you her seat. "Sit, sit! No need to stand around!"

She smiles widely at you as she gestures to a plush chair across from them. A low table separates you, and the three of you are arranged across from one another. Deuce's grandmother walks slowly behind his mother, bearing a tray of tea and pastries in her hands. Without a word, she sits down and quietly offers one of the small cakes to you.

She doesn't take her eyes away from you, smiling wide. You can't help but smile back at her, but before you can thank her she leans closer to Deuce mother. "Perfect aren't they? I knew someone wil eventually see that our Deuce is a catch." She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but you can only agree with her, Deuce is a catch.

"Thank you so much-!" "It's nothing, dear," she says, her voice soft as velvet. His mother breaks the silence, leaning forward in her seat. "Now then, tell us all about yourselves. We have heard plenty from our son, but we want to hear from you."

Deuce is paralyzed. He has nothing ready to say. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding in his chest. Although he is more than happy both his most loved family members love you, he is still nervous. It's embarrassing! "Wait-!" His grandmother immediately stands up from her seat. She disappears and reappears with a thick photo album. She settles back down and opens it.

"Now, let me show you my handsome boy when he was young. I think this is a much better idea!"

Deuce's head falls back, someone kill him. His heart stops at the pictures of himself....fuck...he's naked....

[bubble-dream-inc]

under your skin.

The last walk-in you expected to see in your tattoo parlor in one rainy day was a massive masked behemoth of a man. It came as even more of a surprise when you wanted to see him there again and again; and a final time when he kept coming back.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Tattoo artist reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 7K

a/n: listen, as a tattoo artist irl, the first thing i did when i discovered ghost had a tattoo was to think how i had to self indulge. i’d kill to tattoo this man personally. shoutout to @117s-girl, @somnibats and Eddie for the tremendous help when i had writer’s block, and @deafeningcat for the amazing beta read as always <3

tags: fluff, reader being horny for ghost, ghost being slightly ooc, mentions at verbal abuse, slightly suggestive and slight angst.

You remember the first time Simon Riley walked into your shop.

It was a cold and rainy day - like most days in Manchester - and you were idling by, doodling on a notebook by the front desk and listening to whatever was playing on the radio without paying it much attention. Glancing at the clock on the wall where the empty loveseat was, you were starting to wonder if you should go get something to eat while you waited, when the bell on the front door chimed, indicating someone had come in.

At first, you thought he was going to rob you, and in a second you were already kissing your expensive equipment goodbye in your head, cursing the fact you had decided to buy that pricey tattoo machine you were eyeing for so long just last week, but those thoughts vanished when the figure just stood in front of you. Silently, you eyed the skull mask and sunglasses that covered his face, wondering what was this guy’s deal, since it was way too grey outside to be wearing any sort of eyewear. Trying not to let his huge stature looming over you be intimidating, you were about to say something when his gruff voice cut the silence.

“You take walk-ins?”��

So he really was a client, you thought. Rummaging through the notebooks in the desk, you quickly glanced at your schedule, seeing your next client wasn’t supposed to come for a few good hours, and decided you were curious about the masked man.

“Well, it depends. What were you thinking of getting?” 

He stood still for a moment, and you wondered if he heard you at all, but suddenly he reached for something in the pocket of his jeans, extending a neatly folded piece of paper in front of you. His voice filled the silence again as you unfolded the paper, and you found the thick accent oddly calming coming from him. 

“I want it to be a sleeve. Covering my left forearm.”

You opened it to find a surprisingly intricate design, and it seemed like whoever did it made it with the intention of actually getting it as a sleeve. Not taking the masked guy for an artist, you found a signature on the bottom of the page, a chicken scratch that read “Tommy Riley”. Usually, you’d make light conversation and ask about the design, especially when it looked important, but something told you not to pry into this man’s business. Assuming he’s this “Tommy” fella, you just smiled politely, deciding you could fit the first session of it into your work day.

“Sure. It should take a few sessions, though, is that alright with you?” He simply nodded, wordlessly, and you decided that was good enough of an answer. 

Leading him into the procedure room after getting his approval on the price, you made sure to give him a consent form for him to fill out and sign while you traced the design to a stencil - making sure to cut the right adjustments to wrap around his visibly huge forearm. You wondered if he was a weightlifter of sorts, or maybe just a gym rat. 

Transferring the stencil to his skin and prepping your materials for tattooing was a completely silent ordeal, and your client seemed more than content in just letting the silence linger for the remainder of your encounter, and even if you were getting antsy by it, you were glad he didn’t comment on how visibly nervous you were when you wrapped your gloved hands around his arm to make the stencil stick - feeling his warmth and the protruding veins even through the latex that covered your own skin. 

“You have any other tattoos?” You asked, stepping on the machine pedal to make sure your tattoo machine was at the right voltage while he got comfortable setting his arm on the arm rest.

“No.” 

“Cool.” God, you felt awkward. “I’m gonna start now, tell me if it hurts too much.”

“Right.” 

You felt stupid saying that to a man that had arms the size of your head and was at least 6,4. As expected, he didn’t even flinch when the needles touched his skin, but you weren’t about to give up on your mission to make conversation with your mysterious client. While tracing it with the machine, you analyzed the design a bit closer.

“That’s some interesting art.” It wasn’t. It was tacky as hell, all missiles and skulls and other edgy elements, but you were not going to say that to him. “You like guns?”

“Something like that.” 

You gave up trying to chat him up shortly after. Even with the weird dad sunglasses on, you could still feel his stare on you, unnerving at best, and you wondered what was up with the mask. In your line of work, you’d met some interesting individuals, and you considered your shop a safe haven for all outcasts and misfits; you’d known, after all you did decide to pursue tattooing as a career. Still, something about this man - Tommy? - made you feel an itch to see what lied beyond the mask - both figuratively and literally.  At least it would take a few more sessions to finish his piece, hopefully he’d say more than five words at once to you at some point. 

It took you two hours to finish tracing it, and you deemed it was good to go and begin shading another day. Getting into professional mode, you gave him directions on how to care for it and asked him to come back after a month to start on shading it, and, as expected, he only nodded to you. Going back to the front desk, he handed the bills containing the price you had settled on, and turned around, leaving without another word. Out of curiosity, you picked up his file. The first thing you noticed was that he had left the “Occupation” space blank.

The second thing you noticed was that the signature read “Simon Riley”.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon didn’t come back after a month. 

A good few months later, you just figured he’d given up and was now walking around with an unfinished tattoo, or, worse, he had picked another artist to finish the job, and the thought made you angrier than you’d like to admit. Despite your annoyance, whenever you’d organize your clients files, you’d find yourself lingering on his, weirdly curious and feeling like he was a puzzle you were dying to solve.

A long time passed - you don’t know how much, but you’d say it was more than a year - before he showed up again, and, once again, it was unannounced. You were finishing a client’s tattoo when your friend - and coworker - knocked on the procedure room door, and when you’d told her to come in, she looked like she had seen a ghost. 

“There’s a guy in the waiting room asking for you. Said you were doing his sleeve…” She quietly announced, and you just stared at her quizzically, waiting for her to continue. "He 's…Big. Tall guy with a creepy skull mask.” 

She whispered the last part so he wouldn’t hear it, even if he was a good corridor distance away and the metal music coming from the radio would drown it out, and after a few moments you realized she was talking about Simon.  You remember answering something to her and finishing the tattoo on auto pilot before heading to the front desk, and, sure enough, Simon was standing there menacingly, in his whole huge aura, seemingly unbothered by how his height, frame, and mask were making the other clients in the shop regard him with uneasy looks. His eyes met yours once you showed up. You noticed he wasn’t wearing the sunglasses anymore, and his fabric mask had been replaced by a simpler balaclava and a hard skull mask on top that you hoped was made out of a synthetic material. 

Now bare, his gaze revealed its intensity to you, the dark hues following your every move in a way you supposed you could find intimidating if a small, very weird part of you didn’t find it attractive. He seemed tired, eyes cast downwards and with bags surrounding it, and you wondered what had happened when he was gone. 

“Hey.” You breathed, straining your neck to look up at him and completely forgetting about the other people in the room. “Riley, right? I’m guessing you’re here for the sleeve?”

He seemed slightly surprised you remembered his name, but the impression of seeing emotion in his eyes was gone in an instant as he simply nodded at you.

“Yeah. You got time?”

You didn’t. But you’d make it work, you weren’t about to send away the man who had, for some reason, plagued your thoughts so much for the last months. 

“I got a few more clients, but if you don’t mind waiting, i can fit you in?”

You hated how uneasy you sounded, your hands fiddling with a stray loose line of your ripped jeans as you waited for his answer.

“That works.” 

With his gruff reply, he turned and sat down in the waiting area, and you released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

The hours went by, the clients came and went to and from your procedure room as well as your colleague’s, yet, every single time you left the room to go to the front desk have a sip of water or check your next client’s name, Simon was still there, patiently waiting, the loveseat seeming oddly small under him, and his all black, dark getup blending perfectly with the black walls of the studio. If anything, it made you even more intrigued, since most people would have left by now, considering how long a tattoo takes and he could just come back another day, but he didn’t show any signs of having anywhere else to be. The people traffic started to wind down, and soon enough, you dismissed your last client of the day as you were the only artist left in the shop and the sun had already hid in the horizon. 

“Glad to see you again. I was wondering if you had gotten another artist.” You laughed somewhat nervously, taking a breather by the glass door while Simon finished filling out another responsibility form, and you had to ignore how nervous you felt when he turned to glance at you with those dark and intense eyes of his.

“Got busy, that’s all.” He murmured, setting the pen down on the front desk and turning to the wall where your flash pieces were displayed. “And I like your work.”

Feeling your eyes widen, you tried to conceal how flustered the comment made you feel behind a cool chuckle, but something told you Simon could see right through you. Going back inside and pointing him towards the procedure room, you briefly glanced at the fresh consent form and realized he filled out his occupation this time, the words “Army” surprisingly not phasing you one bit.

Simon was the same as the last time, quiet as a grave. But, seeing as you were wrapping up the shading quicker than you’d anticipated, you decided this time you would not let this mysterious man walk out of your studio - possibly forever - without at least getting one piece of information out of him.

“So…does it mean anything?” You nodded towards his arm, trying to play it cool. Being in this field, you quickly realized not everyone gets tattoos that mean anything, and most of them are really just for aesthetics, but the signature below the original design had you wondering, even if the newfound information that he was in the military made the over the top missiles and dog tags inked on his arm make a lot more sense. He stared at you from behind the mask for a moment, making you feel queasy under his stare and suddenly very aware of how much you were draped over his arm trying to get the shading on one particular skull to look just right.

“Yeah.” After a few moments he replied, a wave of sudden relief washing over you upon realizing you had not, in fact, crossed a line. “My brother made it.”

“He’s quite the artist.”

“He really was.”

Oh. 

You decided to drop the subject after the implication.

“And what branch are you in?” Not looking at him, you spoke in a low tone, too concentrated on the machine in your hands to realize you were maybe asking more than he was comfortable talking. “You know, uh, in the army.”

“Special Air Forces.” You realized he tensed almost imperceptibly, relaxing once you only hummed.

“Cool. I’d reckon you guys had tattoo parlors closer to base, though.” 

“We do.” He huffed. “But I know the guys. Not nearly as clean as here.”

At that, you chuckled gently, missing the way Simon’s eyes softened at the sound.

You continued the piece in comfortable silence, distantly registering the pitter-patter of the rain that had just started falling on the street beyond the front doors. Finishing it up, faster than you would have liked, you decided the corny design looked good - really good - on him, and he might have been the only guy possible to pull it off, which could have been related to how big and strong his arms looked. Wrapping the tattoo in plastic film and reminding him to not keep it on for too long, you had to focus on acting professional and not let him know you were ogling at the recently inked piece of skin. The long sleeve shirt he had rolled up to his forearms did not help you one bit, nor did the way his eyes followed your every single movement.

When you got back to the front desk - relieved to find the rain had stopped - you expected Simon to just pay and leave silently the same way he did the last time, but he actually lingered, letting his eyes wander through the flash pieces displayed in a neat corkboard in the waiting room - this one with your name written on top. You actually don’t know when he got your name - something told you it was when he asked your coworker for you. He seemed quite interested in one particular design that had been gathering dust for a long time on the board, considering how big it was.

“See something you like?” You followed his gaze, realizing it was a ram skull chest piece you had completely forgotten about; it looked too dark and menacing for most people looking for walk-ins and flash tattoos. “That one was meant to be a chest piece. Works for the back, too.”

Simon studied it for a few moments. What was up with this guy and skulls? Finally, he turned to you.

“When can you do it?”

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The third time Simon Riley walked into your studio, it was, by far, the most memorable one. 

Unsurprisingly enough, he had decided to set an appointment for the chest piece to be the last one of your day, a week later; whether he enjoyed the night time better or just wanted to not be bothered with other people around, that was a mystery to you. There was a third option in the back of your head, but you told yourself it was delusional, and your fascination with the masked man was, in fact, one sided. That didn’t stop you from greeting him with a cheery smile as you looked up from where you were doodling on your notebook on the front desk, pretty much like your first encounter. However, you didn’t think too much of what exactly the chest piece implied as you headed to your procedure room with Simon in tow. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you freezed for a second, holding up the carbon stencil in your hands.

“Uh, you might wanna…take off your shirt. It’ll be more comfortable for you.” 

Preparing the stencil gel, you tried your best to ignore him and not let your eyes wander too much as he lifted the unnecessarily tight black t-shirt over his head, careful as to not remove the balaclava and skull mask combo, folding it neatly and setting the piece of cloth over your table before standing next to you in front of the full body mirror. 

I’m a professional. I’m a professional. I’m a professional.

If you thought Simon was huge before, that was an understatement. 6,4 feet of pure, naked muscle stood inches away from your much smaller body, and you were extremely relieved to realize that he had, probably out of consideration for you, shaved his chest beforehand - the same couldn’t be said for the faint happy trail very clearly peeking from his jeans, sitting way lower on his hips than you’d like. Scolding yourself over and over for fawning like a horny teenager, you hoped the nervous tremble in your hands as you delicately smoothed the gel over his collarbones wasn’t as obvious as you felt it was. Even through the latex gloves you could feel the heat coming from his pecs, as well as a few minor scars that shouldn’t give you too much trouble. You decided to ignore the very visible and very big bullet scar on his side. As he adjusted his dog tags to hang behind his neck so as to not get in your way, you finally peeled the stencil off, trying to calm your frantic beating heart as he analyzed it in the mirror to make sure it was in the right placement. 

It got worse when he actually laid on the tattoo table - comically dwarfed under his enormous frame. Sure, you had tattooed a fair share of chests along the years - both men’s and women’s - and it never really flustered you, after all, it was your job, seeing skin was a very big part of it. However, as you lowered your torso on the bed and tried to adjust your hand to sit as comfortably as possible on his chest, you thanked the gods it was such a big tattoo; you had no idea how you wouldn’t mess it up if it was a tiny one. But you doubted Simon would ever get a tiny tattoo. Above all, you could appreciate how he maintained his breathing slow and steady and, again, didn’t even flinch as the needles touched him, making you like him as a client even more. 

“I’ve heard you guys in the army got…codenames?” You started, desperate to start some conversation before your intrusive thoughts won. “What do they call you?”

Slowly, you were getting used to his brief silence before answering you. It seemed like his way to decide if your question was worth answering or not, and you were glad he had found them all to be so far. 

“Ghost.”

“Very fitting.”

You were surprised to hear him exhale in a way that resembled a very weak laugh, and you felt giddy knowing you made your ever so quiet and serious client laugh - or something like that. Feeling calmer, you continued the very big piece, strapping in for a long next couple of hours.

They passed quickly, your hand working almost in autopilot as you traced the tattoo’s lineart and made light conversation with Simon - Ghost. You learned he was a Lieutenant, liked bourbon and the mask never came off. Granted, it was mostly you speaking and him answering, but you were glad he was entertaining your nervous ramblings, and you were only slightly embarrassed to admit to yourself you found his southern British accent very soothing on his deep, gruffy voice. In turn, you told him a little more about yourself; why you got into tattooing and even a few funny stories from dealing with past clients. 

Finally deciding it was enough strain on his skin for one session, you set your machine down and admired your work, smiling under your mask. Taking a generous amount of the tattooing balm on your fingers, you swallowed your nervousness before gently spreading the substance on his chest so it would heal nicely, not missing the way he relaxed under your touch. If you weren’t so busy panicking by having your hands on such a massive and attractive man, you could ponder on how he seemed to be enjoying that as much as you were. With your approval, he got up to examine the piece on the mirror, and you caught yourself staring into his strong, chiseled, and scarred back, before averting your eyes, choosing to focus instead on cleaning up the inky mess you made on your trolley. You once again went through the now familiar ordeal of him silently thanking you, paying, and leaving into the night.

As Simon Riley left the studio that day, carrying an unfinished piece of your work right on his chest, you realized something clearly had changed in the air between you two. You just had no idea if it was a good or bad thing.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The next time Simon showed up, a month later, you were stressed out of your mind.

You were booked, so you didn’t really have any open spots next to closing time the way he liked it, so he had to settle for coming a bit earlier than usual, which meant there were actually other people in the studio for once, including the one on the front desk yelling in your face.

You couldn’t really remember what he was yelling about, just that you were suddenly regretting your decision of working with people and wondering if it was worth it to stoop down low and insult him back the way he was doing to you. You figured the moment he started yelling about his already finished tattoo that it was most likely another scam attempt coming from him, but it didn’t really matter anymore once you zeroed in on the hulking figure that showed up unexpectedly behind your unpleasant client in the form of your masked savior. For a moment, you were scared things were going to get violent, but Simon didn’t have to do much. It took one glower from him, his gaze sharp enough to cut from way above the smaller man, and he was suddenly stuttering apologies and leaving the studio in a hurry. You ignored the looks the other people in the waiting room were giving the two of you, offering a tired, but extremely grateful smile, to Ghost.

“Hey, Riley.”

He was still staring at where the man had left, and the annoyance on his usually so stoic gaze came as a surprise to you. 

“What happened?” 

You were already heading into the procedure room, too shaken to deal with the stares of the people in the waiting room any longer, and shot him a sheepish look from over your shoulder. 

“Just a rude client being difficult. Not the first time he gave me trouble, either, but it happens.” 

Simon didn’t seem too happy with your answer, but he let it slide, for the moment. Heading into the room and closing the door behind you, the air fell into a familiar silence, broken only by the cluttering sounds as you set up your supplies, and, to you, your still frantic heartbeat in your ears by the less than pleasant interaction just a few minutes earlier. It was unlikely, given how observant he was, but you hoped Simon didn’t pick up on just how shaken you were. Still, you took a few moments to calm yourself down as you tested the machine with your feet; Simon had already made himself comfortable on the table, and soon enough you fell into the rhythm of inking him, the same way you had grown used to in those last few months. Focusing on a particularly stubborn piece of skin where the ink didn’t paint as easily, you were lost in thought when his voice pulled you back to reality.

“Are you scared of me?” You heard him ask quietly from above you, instantly knowing he was referring to the way your earlier client had run off on the sight of him. Pausing your ministrations, you looked up from his chest to find him already staring at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Since you were currently working on the details on his collarbone, you haven’t realized how close you actually were to his face, and suddenly you were hit with the realization you could feel his breath through both your masks; and an intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke and cologne. Caught in a trance by his dark gaze, you realized a little too late you were gawking and not really answering his question, which made you feel very glad for the surgical mask covering your suddenly very red face and flustered expression. Looking down to continue your work, you tried to find your words once again.

“Not really. I mean, the mask was off-putting at first, but I've had some odd people as clients. You’re cool, though. You remind me of those big, scary guard dogs, but in a good way.” Cringing at the lame answer, you felt like a kid talking to her crush in middle school all over again, and the huff-slash-chuckle that left Simon only made it worse. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t, and in your flustered stupor you couldn’t find any words either, so you just let the air around you fall into a comfortable silence over again. If it were anyone else, you’d be wary of the constant quietness, but, for some reason, Simon’s presence was enough to make you content, even if no words were exchanged. 

Blacking out the parts that had to be inked was a piece of cake for you and your enormous needle - which you were glad was being used on Simon, since, most of your other clients would have been crying from the pain only halfway done with the black - and soon enough you were heading out to the front with him, readying yourself to bid him goodbye and, disappointedly, only see him again in the next month, once his tattoo was healed enough for another session, however, as you approached the waiting room, he made no move to leave. You thought maybe he was, again, inspecting your work displayed on the wall, the prospect of continuing to tattoo him after his chest piece was done getting you giddy already, but he was looking nowhere but in your direction, eyes unreadable behind the skull mask.

“I’ll wait until you close. Who knows if that asshole won’t come back expecting me not to be here anymore.” 

Blinking up at him, it took you a few moments to process what he had murmured under his breath, and, in an instant, your heart rate shot up as you tried to wrap your head around the implications. Had it been any other client, you would have laughed it off, telling him not to worry and that you could take care of yourself, but it wasn’t just about anyone. It was him. And for some reason, the fact made you only wordlessly agree with a nod of your head and wide eyes, certain he could now see how clearly flustered and red your face looked. An intrusive part of your brain was screaming at you that he was just being nice, and that the protectiveness was just because of his job and nothing else, but you’d entertain these thoughts later - if ever.

So, much like the second time you’d met him, the rest of your afternoon was spent with seeing Ghost’s massive figure patiently waiting in the way too small loveseat in the front room of the studio, living up to the scary guard dog imagery you had joked about to him, except, this time, in between clients you’d sit besides him to catch a break and make light conversation, the deep rumble of his voice soothing all of your worries in a minute. 

As the hours went by, it was way past nightfall when you closed up, everyone else had already left and you were exhausted after washing the studio on your own. True to his word, Simon loomed behind you like a shadow, quiet and intimidating, refusing to leave until he had walked you to your car in safety. You remember thanking him profusely, and him not making a big deal out of it, and the way your heart thrummed in your throat as you drove on autopilot to your house, trying to ignore the way Ghost’s figure walking besides you on the quiet sidewalk a few moments before felt just right. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

It was early August when you woke up in a very good mood that one morning.

Later you’d realize it was because it was the day of Simon’s appointment, but at the time you had chalked it up to just being a sunny day that brightened your spirits.

Business as usual, you went along your day, anxiously waiting for the place to empty out and you’d get your newly discovered favorite customer, not that you’d admit it outloud to him, or even to yourself. It was actually a slower day, with a big break between clients, which you were glad about, so between coffee and water breaks and chit chatting with your coworkers, soon enough the sun went down and the enormous figure of Ghost could be seen crossing the threshold of the studio’s glass door, responding your enthusiastic wave with a nod of his head, eyes relaxed behind the mask. As usual, he followed you inside the procedure room, and you remembered something.

“Lemme see how your sleeve is healing.” Extending your hand, you smiled cheekily at him, giddy after seeing his half-hearted eye roll, and he gave his left forearm for you to inspect. With his busy way of life, you’d have expected to be worse, but it was actually very well taken care of. “Wow, this has healed up perfectly, good job, Simon!”

You beamed up at him, but your smile faltered once you saw his eyes widening at the praise. Oops. He grumbled something in response and you decided to save him the embarrassment, releasing his arm with a chuckle.

No matter how many times he did it, every single time Ghost took his shirt off it made your brain short circuit, but you remained professional and fell into the familiar routine of tattooing him in comfortable silence, only this time it was broken not only by you talking first, but also him. It surprised you to hear him ask you questions first or tell you some non-compromising stories about his job, - making you chuckle a few times hearing about the shenanigans of this “Soap” friend of his - but you weren’t about to complain. You were lost in the familiarity of it all when you realized that you were actually almost done with the shading - meaning his chest piece would end one session earlier than expected. Trying to mask your disappointment, you wrapped it up, forcing a smile to a suddenly very confused Ghost. 

“I thought we were going to need another session but, uh, turns out it was…faster than i expected!” You gave him a slight, nervous chuckle, and you swore you saw his eyes widen behind the mask. 

As usual, you wrapped the ink in the plastic film - finding it very hard to make the masking tape stick to his large pecs - and gave the same instructions in a robotic way, following him to the front desk where he finished paying for his piece, all in absolute silence and with unreadable eyes. As the transaction was finished, he lingered, standing silently in front of you, looming. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“So, yeah, i guess that’s it…” You gave another chuckle, offering him a gentle smile. “Hey, don’t be a stranger-”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” He blurted out, shutting you right up, and that stopped you dead in your tracks. You stared up at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly, and were waiting for him to say something else or even backtrack, but that never came.

“Uh. Yes? I mean, yes, sure! I’d love to!” You stammered, certain you were wide-eyed and a flustered mess, not expecting him to be so straightforward, or, even say anything at all. Simon seemed a lot more composed than you, even if the way he blurted his question out made it seem like he could be slightly nervous. You doubted he ever got nervous, though. 

“Great. Does this weekend work for you?” 

Thinking back on your schedule, you remembered that no, it didn’t.

“I’m booked with work…But, the next one I should be free.” You hated how awkward you sounded.

He nodded, and took his phone out of his pocket to extend it for you, and you assumed he was asking for your number in the Ghost-est fashion possible. You unlocked it, noticing the lack of a password and the factory wallpaper, realizing it was probably a personal and barely used phone, punching your number in and saving the contact. As you returned the device to Simon, you found solace in realizing he probably felt as awkward as you did.

“I’ll see you in a fortnight, then.” 

With a last nod of his head, he left, leaving you flustered, confused, but extremely giddy, and with a heart pounding against your ribcage. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon came back a week before he was supposed to.

As usual, you were closing up shop when he showed up, distractedly walking around the front room of the studio as you organized everything for the night, the sound of the heavy rain outside covering up the creaking of the glass door, so when you turned around, his presence startled you. 

“Hi Simon! You’re early.” You chuckled once you recovered from your scare, but he didn’t match your energy. He was just standing there, stiff as a plank, and staring silently at you. Growing increasingly worried, you were about to ask if he was alright when he beat you to it. 

“I’m leaving for a mission. And i’ll be gone for…some time.” 

Your heart dropped, and you could only stare at his mask trying to process his words and find words, but ultimately settling on a quiet and disappointed oh. He finally approached you, and in less than a second he was standing towering over your figure, holding you in that familiar eye contact you’d grown to look forward to so much, even if you'd realized by his gaze that he seemed just as upset as you. 

“Will you…be in danger?” It was a dumb question, but you couldn’t help yourself, everything you told yourself the days about moving slowly and waiting for your first date to decide how much you cared flying out the window as you openly worried for him for the first time. Ghost sighed, and suddenly you were hyper aware of how close you stood.

“I always am.” 

Not breaking away from his intoxicating gaze, your words lowered to a whisper, a plea.

“Be careful. Please.” 

The air stilled around you, thicker in tension that got worse with each passing millisecond, all of those feeling like hours. Simon’s height had never seemed so intimidating, and you never chastised yourself so much before for liking how his intense aura made you feel, something that increased tenfold once he boldly got even closer to you. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish, hoping something would come out eventually, you stilled upon feeling his gloved hands gingerly touching your face - dwarfing you in them - and you swore your heart was about to leap from your chest to your throat in a matter of seconds. His steely gaze flickered downwards briefly before returning to your eyes, asking for permission for something you didn’t even know quite right what it was, but that you’d give him regardless. The rough texture of his gloved left hand reached your now slightly parted lips as he traced the bottom of them with his thumb, moving his other hand to slowly lift up his balaclava just enough to expose his - unsurprisingly - sharp, stubbled jaw and full, lightly scarred lips. You barely had time to admire what you could see of him before his face was merely inches apart from yours, your breaths mingling together from both of your parted lips.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” He mumbled against you. A silent beg for you to stop him now, but you wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I don’t care.” You breathed back, voice barely above a whisper, and that seemed to break his resolve, as in the next moment he was leaning in and finally capturing your lips with his. 

Kissing Simon Riley in real life was so much better than what you imagined. His height made it that he had to lean down an awkward amount to reach you and you actually had to stand a bit on your toes, but none of that mattered as you finally felt his lips move against yours, surprisingly slow and gentle for a man that looked like that, but you supposed he was always full of surprises. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, gripping with a little more force when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, encouraging him to kiss you harder - it would be a waste not to feel just how strong those huge arms of his could get wrapping around you. Groaning into your mouth, his touch soon became ravenous as he tasted you like a starved man, both of you now knowing it might as well be the last time you’d see each other, but you didn’t want to dwell too much on it, choosing instead to focus on the way he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the counter as if you weighed nothing, getting even impossibly closer to your smaller frame, never breaking the kiss. You felt like you could stay wrapped up in his arms for hours, but at some point you had to part your lips, keeping your foreheads touching and looking at each other without saying another word.

He waited until you closed up and walked you to your car again; except, this time, as you watched his retreating figure from the rearview mirror, your chest felt constricted, the unsureness of if he’d ever come back alive clenching your throat in fear. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The late june spring air smelled good, and you were in high spirits. 

You hummed contently, cleaning with a paper towel wet with soapy water the last smudges on the inked skin, leaning back to admire your work. The black crow on his upper back turned out particularly good, and you found it amusing how its edgy nature went along well with the other tattoos already on his body. Spreading the hydrating vaseline to wrap the piece up took a little more than you’d take with other clients, since you were busy admiring and feeling up the strong, scarred back beneath your fingertips. 

“All done!” 

The man got up, admiring the crow in an awkward angle in front of the full body mirror, and you couldn’t help but keep staring at the muscular back and pecs that you could see from your position in your chair.

“Quit the ogling.”

His voice sounded gruffy, but slightly amused, which made you chuckle and get up, stopping by his side to lean against his huge arms and stare back at him through the mirror.

“Quit being hot, then.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but you knew he was smiling under the mask and possibly had the slightest red dusting his cheeks - since he was so pale, you’d always notice it when he had his mask off, and in turn, he’d always notice how you’d stare at his face with a smug smile. He looked over the tattoo once more before you wrapped it up, past the stage of giving him the instructions, all of them already second nature to him, considering it had been so many years he started getting tattooed by you.

“You know” You started as he followed you to the front door of the mostly empty studio, the only other sound being the tattoo machine of a single other coworker that was staying late in their own procedure room. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know I still got another client and it should take one or two hours more.” 

Ghost huffed, turning to you with his hands on his jacket pockets, the height difference between you never failing to take all the air out of your lungs.

“Nonsense. He’s not supposed to be here for another half an hour, right? I’ll go grab us some dinner from that place you like and I’ll be right back. I’ll help you close up then we can go home.” 

You shook your head with a giggle, watching as he came closer to you, and were about to protest more but he gave you a look that left no chance for you to be stubborn, shutting you right up. Taking one hand out of his pocket, Simon lifted his mask just enough for you to see his jaw - which you had already admired that morning while he was shaving - and his lips, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling him murmur just so you could hear it.

“See you in a minute, love.”

With that, he left, leaving you to watch fondly his retreating form from the glass door, as you chuckled dreamily one last time and went back to your procedure room.

[haizficz]

Lunch

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vi x fem reader

summary: vi is hungry and you´re her favorite meal

warnings: [soft] smut, making out, vi eating you out cuz she´s hungry ofc, if i missed any lmk

words: 0.5k

a/n: I´M ALIVE!! let´s just ignore the fact that i disappeared for a whole goddamn year. it just happened much in life and i had SUCH a writer´s block but here´s finally a fanfiction;) and how could i celebrate that my writer´s block is gone other than posting a vi smut?? ALSO i have billie tickets for next year so ofc this fic is inspired by lunch duh AND OMG ARCANE S2 IN NOVEMBER?? I´M SO HERE FOR IT

enjoy reading my loves<3

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"why are you flirting with me already like the whole day?" you ask your girlfriend after she said something that made your stomach flip again for the 100th time today. "don´t act like you don´t like it, ´cause i know that you do baby." she answers you confidently and oh how right she was. you love it when vi flirts with you and if there should exist a word stronger than 'love', you mean that word.

just the feeling of the butterflies flying in your stomach, the blush that creeps up your rosy cheeks, your heat growing between your thighs, and vi being the reason for it, makes it feel even better.

but the worst part, she knows that you feel that way, so she teases you with her actions and her words. her lips are telling you what she wants and needs to do with you but her actions aren´t talking yet.

you look at vi while your blush is getting visible. she´s smirking at you and starts placing her hand on your waist. you take a glance down your hips, not for long though ´cause vi her other hand is wandering up your face. she holds your chin up so you look at her. vi is getting closer to your face and before she kisses you, you say "i see what you are doing."

"oh yeah?"

and before she could see your face getting red, her lips are finally touching yours, it´s a soft kiss but it turns into aggressive kissing really fast. your hands are laying comfortably around your girlfriend´s neck and you play with her babyhair while both her hands are holding you on your upper body.

in the meantime that you´re making out, you try to stand up and sit on vi´s lap. vi understood your actions and helped you to get on top of her.

moments pass away and you can´t get enough of her so you take off vi´s jacket which lead more and more to taking off your clothes till you both had nothing on except your underwear.

though as vi took off your bra, you felt yourself growing needier and you quietly moaned into your girlfriend´s mouth. you noticed vi´s grin while kissing and her hands moving down your thighs. she starts carrying you to the bed next to you and pushes you softly in the furniture. suddenly you can´t feel vi´s lips on yours anymore, you feel them going down your neck, your clavicle, your cleavage, both your breasts, both your arms and your stomach till she sees the last clothing that hides your beautiful body. vi is slowly starting to take it off. and finally you feel her soft lips on the place you crave her the most.

you let out a sigh of relief as you felt vi´s tongue entering you softly. your hands are starting to get lost in her hair while she´s tasting you, and you can feel the vibrations of her lips on your sensitive spot when she´s making noises that you love so dearly.

"you taste so good baby."

soon you feel yourself getting close and when you let go, it felt like a volcano exploded in yourself that wanted to erupt a long time ago.

vi looked at your satisfied face and kissed you one more time before she totally collapsed on top of you. you smiled to yourself and kissed her head multiple times.

"you´re my favorite lunch"

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@hard-core-super-star still adding my favorite writer here on tumblr<3

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[sturniqlo]

Let Her Go- C.S

summary: seeing her across the room with someone else makes chris realize he needs to let her go. BLURB

cw: cursing, party setting, mentions of drinking, pinch of ANGST; break up, arguing, toxic!chris, trust issues, mentions of cheating (not actually) manipulation(?)

an: i've been going through some writers block lately, sorry if this is shit :/ | lowercase intended

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"want another?" nate, chris' friend, nods his head towards his empty red solo cup. "i'm good, you should slow down on em' though." chris says and nate scoffs. "shut up." he cackles and stumbles to the kitchen to refill his cup. tonight, chris and nate had came to one of their friends party. it was a celebration or anything, just a party on a random thursday night.

at first, chris had said no, however, nate didn't take no for an answer and dragged him to this party. nate had realized that chris was staying home a lot more after he had broken up with y/n.

"i'm missing her." is what he would say when nate would go over and see chris laying in bed hugging a random shirt. it was the shirt that y/n would always wear of his and it still smelled like her. "she dumped you for a reason, chris." he always stayed quiet when someone would say that.

y/n was the one who had called it off. and chris realized, after they had broken up, that he was the toxic one in the relationship and she deserved better. whenever he would be out she would send him a text that she would be going out with her friends, she was never asking for permission, never that, just informing him.

however, chris feared the idea that other men would try and get at her and he got jealous just at the idea of it so, he would reply with i was planning on going over in about twenty minutes :(. y/n away fell for it and backed out from the plans with her friends.

she'd always wait... and wait, and chris always showed up 3 or more hours later which would result in an argument. "you said that five hours ago! i could've gone and been back by now! but, no because you always think i'm going to cheat on you or some shit! do you really think that low of me?"

y/n's breaking point was when she had posted a group picture at the mall to her instagram story and when chris saw he was furious when he saw a guys arm across her shoulders. what did he do? he looked at her location and drove there a caused a scene in front of her friends.

"come on, we're leaving!" he spotted y/n standing alone in a store. "chris? what are you doing here?" she said. "i said, we're leaving. i didn't let you come here just so you could be lovey dovey around assholes." he grabbed her arm and tried to walk her out. "what are you saying right now?" her voice caught the attention of her friends. "chris, hey?" one said.

"this is chris? didn't know he was coming today." someone he had never seen before says, he then realizes this is the guy who had his arm around her shoulders. "oscar, not now." y/n said. "yeah, oscar, not now." chris said. "we were just leaving, sorry. you guys can go back to shopping." chris walks out with y/n.

"so, oscar seems nice, did he buy you something today?" y/n ignored him. "hm? did he hold your hand? kiss you? you two seemed happy in the picture." she snapped at last. "take me home, i can't stand being around you right now!" she yelled. during the car ride, chris went on and on. when he dropped her off she finally spoke.

"we're done, chris. i've put up with you for so long, i hate that you don't trust me when i go out, whenever i tell you i'm going out you always tell me that you're coming over and make me wait just so i won't go out. you thought i was just cheating on you, for crying out loud! i can't do this anymore!" she unbuckled herself and got out the car. "oscar is my fucking cousin." she slammed the door behind her and ran inside her house.

chris texted, and called. y/n finally decided to talked to him. chris heard her out and agreed although he didn't fully understand.

until now. months later.

chris spotted her while he was pouring himself some soda into his cup. it's almost as if he felt her presence enter the house. he stared at her as she walked in from the backyard, he smiled to smiles, until he saw her arm extended backwards. she was holding someone's hand. behind her, hands intertwined, was a tall guy he had never seen before.

she had someone new.

as creepy as it sounds, he watched them the entire night. he saw how she smiled when he touched her waist, kissed her forehead and held her hand when he felt like it. she looked happy. she finally got what she deserved. the person she deserved.

y/n's eyes roamed the crowd and met a pair of familiar eyes. they stared at each other until y/n broke into a soft smile. that's when he decided to finally let her go.

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.