#and I’m trying to find something outside of the field I’m currently in but it’s like

[leahcee]

trying to look for babysitting gigs for extra money and it’s like you can’t even babysit nowadays without having a degree (bachelor’s minimum), CPR certified (required), non-smoker, and minimum of 3 references

[misstycloud]

Can you do yandere boyfriend and yandere in-laws

You and your husband were driving up north to visit your in-laws. They were a nice couple who’d decided to move to a small town after retirement. It made sense to you, after decades of work and stressing over all that life throws at you, who wouldn’t want a little seclusion?

For the entirety of you and your husband’s relationship, he’d talk about his parents and how glad he was to have what they have; he loves you so much. They were his role models in just about everything. It was a bit weird to you how inspired he seemed by his parents relationship, sometimes. He could go on and on about how he was lucky to have you and you two were going to be together forever- like his parents who’s been married for a little over 30 years. He’d also never fail to mention on how he would give you everything and tread you right- again, like his dad does his mom. However, you shook it off as him admiring them and being very close, especially since he’s an only child.

That was not all. From the moment you met them in person, you had a strange underlying feeling regarding them. You hardly believed they were criminals or something of that kind, but there was something. For example, you’d catch his mother watching you from time to time. It could be when you’re outside in the garden and you’d notice her watching from the kitchen window, quickly averting her gaze and busy herself with the dishes. Or when his father insisted to accompany you to the grocery store despite his now-bad leg. You had told him he should stay at the house and that you didn’t need help or anything, but he dismissed your rejections. Not to mention their willingness to help your with just about anything, and your mother-in-law did not spare any expense in the seemingly random gifts she bought you. Mind you, this was back when you and your husband hadn’t even been together that long and you’d barely gone over the official couple threshold.

“We’ll be there soon, honey. It’s not far now.” Your husband said to you, giving you a quick glance before fousing back on the road ahead of you.

You smiled and responded, “That’s good, I can’t wait to get out of this car.” You sighed and looked at the fields passing by outside the car window.

With a frown, he asked, “Are you feeling nauseous? Does your back hurt? Are you sore anywhere? Should I stop?” Immediately he began ranting about your comfortablility like he’s done all through your relationship.

“No!” You exclaimed. “There’s no need to stop, I’m fine. Just feeling a bit cramped up is all. It’ll be better when we’re there.” You explained while grabbing his hand and showing that you’re good.

He side-eyed you for a second, as if he was trying to find evidence you were lying. Then he breathed out in relief, “Okay, I don’t want you to be in any pain or be uncomfortable in any way-especially now.” Your worrying husband let go of you to move his hand over stomach and stroke it in gentle movements. All while still keeping an eye on the road, of course. It wasn’t long until his happy mood bounced back. “I’m so glad we managed to come out here, it’s feels like ages since last time. And I know how anxious my mom has been to see you again.” He chuckled at his mothers attachment to her daughter-in-law. He would almost say she loved you more than him with how she fawned over you. Though, he didn’t mind.

You simply smiled in return.

When you finally were at your in-laws house, your mother-in-law was instantly at your side, trying to help you he out of the car despite you being very capable of doing so yourself. Your father-in-law scolded her and told her to let you be, in which she shushed him.

It wasn’t long until she started pushing gifts in your direction. Although, they were much appreciated this time around considering your current state and needs. The couple treated you to a nice home cooked dinner and the conversation shifted between different topics. After devouring the delicious chocolate cake being served as dessert, you felt it was time for bed. You had already been quite tired during your journey but it the fatigue was really hitting you now. You yawned and told the others you were going to bed, asking your husband if he was going to go with you.

He shook his head. “No, you go to bed first, sweetie. I’ll be right up, soon.” He reassured and kissed you on the forehead as a sign of affection. Then he gently ushered you upstairs and after you were out of sight, went back to his parents seated in the living room.

“Straight to bed, then?” Mother-in-law asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” Your husband answered.

“Oh, I do hope the bed is comfortable enough for her. I bought a new madress since your last visit. Lovely girl, was to afraid to say it made her back hurt. It’s rare to find such polite young people nowadays, wouldn’t you agree, honey?” The elder woman turned to her spouse, who nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, mom.” Her son said and sat down in a cushioned chair.

“I hope.” she sighed, “She deserves a good nights rest. You’re lucky to have her, son, don’t forget that.” She half-jokingly reminded.

He chuckled and responded with, “Of course not. I love her more than anything. She completes me.” Thinking back to all the wonderful memories, he adorned an elated expression. “Besides, weren’t you the ones to teach me to never let go of what I love?”

“Haha, got me there. In all reality though, you did a good job taking her back. You know, I was a little worried for a moment there, thinking the wedding might be called off. I thought she perhaps found out about your…hobbies.” Mother-in-law raised a brow at her son, leaving the question open.

“No, it was something else. Fortunately.” He added. “But we fixed things and everything is as it should be.” his attention was turned towards his father, who for the first time spoke up.

“Well, relationships have been known to be a bit tricky for us” he referred to their family. “We are known for being somewhat intense with our feelings which may not always be appreciated. However, it is the truest form of love one can give and I’m so lucky to have found a partner who shares this view.” He placed his hand over mother-in-law’s who awed. “You said everything is steady, but you should still be careful. It would not be beneficial for either of you if a last resort has to be used.”

“Of course not.”

There are many stories of evil mother-in-law’s who despised their sons wife for the simplest of reasons. They would be cruel and treat the wife worse than dirt, all while playing innocent whenever someone had payed a little closer attention. She hated those women. How could one treat their child’s one-and-only that way? Though, she knew her view on love and relation did not match the majority of society so that might have something to do with it.

She absolutely adored you. You were simply perfect for her son. Kindness, humility, beauty- these were only a small range of your qualities. In a way, you were like the daughter she wished she had. Of course she wasn’t disheartened with her son’s birth, she would love her child no matter what, but she couldn’t lie and say the thought of a little girl wasn’t tempting. It would be so fun dressing up, doing each others hair, teaching her how to do makeup if she was interested.

She wanted to do those things with you someday. Sadly, she could sense you being a bit apprehensive to her company at times. She knew it was likely due to the excitement she radiated. She couldn’t help it, though! You are just so sweet it makes her want to bite into you like a piece of cake(don’t worry she wouldn’t actually). Mother-in-law has reminded herself to keep things down as to not overwhelm you, but it’s hard. If only she had the level of control her husband did.

Father-in-law is a admirable, hardworking man. He is clear-headed and calm; rarely does anything get to him. Although most would think him somewhat scary and stern, you actually like him a lot. He is not all toughness as he might want you to believe, in fact, he’s been very kind to you. That’s not to say that mother-in-law hasn’t been, but it’s just different with him, somehow. You felt like the two of you had a mutual understanding of kinds, and you also liked that he understood not to smother you.

He thinks you’re a wonderful addition to the family, even if he wouldn’t shout it out for the world to hear. He’d be too embarrassed. You are a good person and great match for his son. You’ll make him happy beyond measure, which is what father-in-law wants. Now that you’re permanently in the family, he often thinks of the things he and his wife taught their son. Now, he doesn’t hope you’ll ever have to find out about them since he’s not sure how you’d respond to that knowledge; most don’t respond positively and it’s likely the same for you. They could damage you forever.

Father-in-law promises to protect you since you’re part of his family now, and he’ll do anything for his family.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Oh my god post-prison spencer and sunshine!reader is my new favorite 🥹

Can I request how spencer would react if something goes wrong in one of their cases and reader is held hostage/taken? I imagine she would be shaken ofc and spencer would comfort her after

canon level violence, reader has dislocated her shoulder and was concussed while also trying to fight off the feelings that are rapidly developing for spencer, and spencer doesn't give a fuck about her fighting their attraction

“Unlock the door, Y/n.” Spencer’s outside your door, he has been for the last couple of days. You’d been injured in the field, a concussion and a dislocated shoulder that had come from the unsub taking you during what would’ve been his take down. 

You’d been dispatched from the hospital last week after being less than attractive to the doctor who wanted to keep you there for longer. 

You’d answered texts and calls from your co-workers, but you’d been ignoring Spencer. 

“Go away Spencer, you’re supposed to be in Nebraska.” you were consulting on a case the team is currently on, so he can’t lie. 

He doesn’t try to, like you’d suspected, “I asked Emily to stay behind, you aren’t doing well.” 

You sigh on the other side of the door, relenting because you know that he won’t leave. 

“How can I help you?” You’re a little less than polite, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care. He knows what it’s like to be sidelined from the team due to injury and be upset about it. 

“Well first, you can let me in, I may look strong but these arms were not made to hold more than five bags at a time.” he’s as tender as he always is and it softens you. 

Stepping aside, you let Spencer in. Your apartment is clean, you’ve been surviving off delivery breakfasts and take out lunches, you can’t raise your hand high, so cooking is a no. 

You’re not worried about your attire, you’re in a green tank top with ’save the planet’ embroidered in cursive with a sick earth just beneath it, and a pair of cotton shorts that hit just above your knee- the heat in the city was driving you crazy and you also didn’t have the energy to try for more clothes- certainly not without upsetting your shoulder some more.

If Spencer is surprised by your outfit, he says nothing. You’re hardly surprised by his, a purple shirt tucked neatly into his dress pants and smart shoes; you’re not sure how he’s managed a perfect outfit in this heat.

Spencer sets the bags down and begins the task of taking out all the things inside- he pulls out packages of various nuts, passion fruit juices and a mountain of those clear, plastic bowls filled with fruit. 

“You didn’t have to buy pre-cut fruit; I know it’s more expensive that way.” You say to him, finding a bit of trouble pushing yourself into the chair you have at your kitchen island. 

Spencer sets down the plastic bags and moves around the countertop to help you, “I cut them myself, they didn’t have the ones you like in the grocery store.” 

You’re stunned silent, the bowls are full of watermelon, cantaloupes, orange quarters, mangoes, grapes and pineapple. All your favourites cut exactly the way you liked. Spencer must’ve spent around a hundred dollars just getting the fruit alone, maybe even more if the number of grapes is anything to go off of. 

“Spencer, you didn't have to.” He shrugs, his eyes searching your face. 

“How’s your head? Have you been feeling dizzy or having double vision?” It’s not easy to lie to Spencer, doubly so when he’s standing before you and staring at you so intensely. 

“The dizziness comes and goes, mostly when I’m in the shower.” You say honestly, and Spencer frowns. 

“You could’ve told me,” you blow a raspberry and pull the bowl full of mangoes towards you. 

“You would’ve made me go back to the hospital; I don’t like the smell of them.” you chew on a piece of mango while Spencer carries on assessing you. 

He notes that the mottling on your shoulder has gone down significantly, now it’s just purple and a little blue. Your eyes don’t appear unfocused, and Spencer is glad for it. “I wouldn’t have.”

“So, what’s your verdict, Doc?” you ask, shutting the lid on the mangoes before you burn through the entire container. 

“You’re not concussed, I think your dizziness in the shower is from you moving your shoulder too much and agitating it.” Spencer presses a light fingertip into the bruised skin and you hiss, batting his hand away making him laugh. 

You hum, “So what? I just never shower again? In the middle of this heatwave? I’d rather die.”  

“I forget how dramatic you can be.” Spencer shakes his head, “Or, you could’ve called me, or Penelope and either one of us could’ve given you a sponge bath.” 

You make your eyebrows dance, “You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you Spence?” He rolls his eyes, tugging on the braid your hair is in. 

“How’d you do that?” he asks, helping you off the chair and leading you into your kitchen. 

Your face is red hot, “I bribed my neighbour’s kid to do it for pumpkin bread the minute my arm is out the sling.” 

Of course you did, you might be sunshine incarnate, but Spencer knows everyone has a spot they don’t want others to see- this is yours. You don’t want anyone in your team viewing you as incapable or in need when they should see you as capable and able to do every facet of your job. 

“I can help you make the bread tonight if you want something to do when the case is over.” 

You tilt your head, watching Spencer look around your cupboards for a glass. “Top left cabinet,” you say and he nods, smiling when he finds a glass covered in stickered ladybugs. 

Spencer fills it almost to the top with passion fruit juice and passes it to you. 

“Are you staying the night, Spencer Reid?” you take a sip and sigh in delight, it’s been a while since you’ve had passion fruit juice, you’re not entirely sure how Spencer knew it was your favourite. 

“If you let me, it isn’t good for you to be by yourself and the more you strain your shoulder, the longer it’ll take for you to get back in the field.”

An impish smile tugs at your lips, your eyes gleaming with a mischievousness Spencer hardly thought you possessed, “So what you’re saying is, you miss me desperately and will sacrifice your hatred of germs and touching other people just to ensure I’m back in Quantico at your earliest convenience?” 

A call from Penelope cuts through the fat of your question, making you laugh when Spencer rushes to answer it and slides you a mock glare that you know is just for show. 

“Yeah, Penelope, what have you got? Y/n and I are here,” well, there’s no escaping his presence now. You find you don’t mind it quite so much, your beginning aims of not falling for him is shredding more and more as the months go on.

[thetarsier]

heyyy!! i hope you’re well!! i was hoping you could write a jealous!aaron x reader where she’s basically getting hit on while she’s at girls night and maybe penelope snaps a picture of her and the guy and sends it to the BAU gc and aaron basically drives over and suprises you because he was jealous

a/n: hi! thank you for the request, lovely, i was so excited to write this one :)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notes: drinking, asshole-type men (yes that's a warning)

<3: aaron hotchner x fem!reader, established relationship

Girls' night always - always - ended in one of your own getting hit on. Usually, it was JJ, but Emily fielded her fair share of creepy drunk men. Penelope tended to go after men herself, and you were the quiet one that laughed along with the others at the strange men eyeing them up. Rarely were you ever the target of their affections. 

It was something that the other girls constantly tried to change, with JJ repeatedly pointing you out to the men who came over to the table (which almost always ended in you ducking away to the bathroom until the guy got the hint). They didn’t know that you were more than content being an observer of their conversations, happy to celebrate the numbers Emily and Penelope received and laugh over the rejections of the men that came after JJ. 

They didn’t know, because they all still thought that you were single. You’d never told them otherwise, and that was mostly because of who you were currently dating: Aaron Hotchner, your boss. 

It was a connection that blossomed over the many years of you being at the BAU, not the same as some rushed, half-assed attempt to score during a night out. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were trying to take it slow out of the eyes of your coworkers. It’d worked for almost two years now with only a few minor slip-ups that were easy to explain away to the people who’d witnessed them. 

Not Rossi, however. Rossi had you two figured out almost as soon as you started to take things seriously, and now he acted as your protector. He changed subjects, scolded, and made those who questioned you or Aaron seem stupid. He was the perfect person to have as a secret keeper, mostly because he didn’t have it in him to care that much. 

And he’d done a beautiful job, too. It was a running joke on the BAU group chat that Penelope’s mission on your nights out was to find you someone to go home with. This was why, despite your usual invisibility, when a guy approached you at the bar, you were left alone with him, your girlfriends disappearing into the crowd around you. 

“-And so, yeah, I would say I’m self-made. I mean, my dad did lend me most of the money I used to actually start up, and all of my customers came from the family company, too, but I run the place, you know?” The guy interrupted his ramblings to take a sip from his beer, and you continued your nodding. 

You were used to listening to fast ramblings, thanks to Spencer, but usually his monologues were interesting, and you could follow them with relative fascination. This guy was just… awful. At storytelling, and being a good conversationalist in general.

“He hasn’t stopped talking this whole time,” JJ observed from their table, shaking her head, “Can’t imagine he’s particularly decent.”

“She hasn’t walked away, yet, though,” Emily shrugged, “Maybe he’s like Reid?”

“Does he look like Reid?” Penelope pulled her phone out of her bag, “Doesn’t matter. Mission half accomplished - everyone has to see this.”

She snapped a photo of the two of you, him leaning into you, you leaning onto the bar. From an outsider's perspective, with the angle that Penelope had taken the photo, it might have looked like you were enjoying his advances more than you actually were. You felt the vibration in your pocket as Penelope sent your photo to the group chat, but you didn’t look, too focussed on how you were going to get out of the man’s company without causing a scene to care about what your phone was doing.

“Oh, look,” Emily pointed to Penelope’s phone, “Morgan’s already responded-” She switched to a lower tone of voice as she read out the man’s text. “-Doesn’t count, Babygirl. Nobody’s gone home yet.”

“He’s right, you know,” JJ looked back at you and the man, “And I don’t think this is a match made in heaven.”

“I can’t keep losing this bet!” Penelope complained as she shoved her phone back in her bag and sat down, disheartened. 

“Ha!” Emily laughed, looking at her own phone, “Hotch has seen it.”

“Oh, that’s embarrassing,” JJ stifled her own laugh by taking a sip of her drink, “Delete it, Garcia. Her boss has seen that.”

“He’s seen it all - he’s in the group chat,” Penelope defended, “Maybe the embarrassment of her constant failure will lure her into a perfect match.”

“That makes sense,” Emily commented sarcastically, eyes roaming over the crowd. 

You laughed politely at the man’s joke before averting your eyes down to your lemonade. You weren’t supposed to be the designated driver - the four of you were meant to get a cab - but once you’d found out about Penelope’s plan, you’d switched to non-alcoholic drinks. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust yourself, but you studied serial killers and rapists for a living, and you knew that some men liked to take advantage. If you were drunk, you couldn’t defend yourself as well as if you were sober. Usually, it wasn’t an issue - you had your girls - but sometimes the anxiety was too much for you to enjoy a drink, and that anxiety only increased tenfold when you were left alone with a guy.

The man’s droning on was getting so tedious that when you looked over his shoulder and saw Aaron - neat suit and all - you thought you had imagined him. Then, when he started moving closer, you started to worry that he would get the wrong idea. 

But, he knew you, and you could tell by his caution that he was well aware of how you were feeling, tuned into your discomfort. Once you’d confirmed that your boyfriend was, in fact, in the same bar as you, you smiled and communicated with your eyes something that you hoped sounded like: ‘Get the hell over here right now.’

“Excuse me,” Aaron attached himself to your side, and you instantly felt safer, “What are we talking about over here?”

“Hey, back off, man,” The guy stood up straighter, and Aaron slipped an arm around your waist, “I’ve been talking to her all night.”

“Yes, and clearly it was riveting conversation,” Aaron eyed the many empty bottles surrounding the two of you and then your own singular glass of lemonade with disdain, “But it’s time to say goodnight.”

He didn’t even allow the man to say anything else, just used his grip on your waist to spin the two of you around and toward where he knew the girls were sitting. His arm left your waist once the two of you were no longer shielded by other people, and as you approached the tall table, sliding into the spare chair, you scowled at Penelope. 

“Next time you try to set me up against my will, at least make sure he’s not a jerk.” 

“Next time, my love.” She promised, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. 

Aaron stood to your right, in between you and JJ, and you gestured to him as you looked between your three friends, “Look at who had to come and save me,” You feigned annoyance, and acted as though you were secretly telling the girls of your embarrassment, “How did you even know we were here?”

“Oh, my God. He saw the photo.” Penelope gasped.

“The what?”

“Garcia put a photo of you and the guy on the group chat to try and prove that she’d succeeded in her mission,” JJ admitted, amusement swimming in her blue eyes as she looked between you and Aaron. 

“Oh, you’re asking for an HR case,” You pointed a finger at the flamboyant blonde, who smiled sweetly at you, tucking her hands underneath her chin, “You sent a picture of me at a bar to all of my colleagues?”

“If it makes you feel any better, Morgan said it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, great, so you sent my picture to my colleagues, and it didn’t even count.” You were only joking with them, and each of them was well aware of that fact. 

“Still,” Emily turned her attention back to Aaron, “Why are you here?”

You also turned to look back at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. He clearly hadn’t thought much past the initial urge to save you from your misery, and you were sure that not even Rossi could’ve lied your way out of the situation. 

“Um…” He narrowed his eyes, brain working overtime for something believable, “I was here already for, the, uh…” 

His eyes darted down to yours in desperation. You laughed at him, leaning your head back onto his shoulder and reaching your hand down to grab at his. The secrecy was on your account, as most things in your relationship were; not only because he was technically your boss, but also because he was head-over-heels obsessed with you. It was created on your account, and you would be the one to break it. 

“Okay, guys, there’s a reason why I never go home with anyone from the bar…” You grinned, peeking up at Aaron from where the back of your head rested just below his chin before you looked back at the girls. 

Penelope was shocked into silence, her mouth wide open, hands stuck out by her sides, JJ was sporting a happy smile of her own, and Emily had a hand over her mouth, eyes blown with shock. After a few seconds of silence, where Aaron squeezed your hand to soothe both of your nerves, the group sprung into action. 

“Oh, my God!” Emily chuckled, “I knew there was something going on. I knew it!” 

“Oh, this is… This is…” Penelope waved her hands around. 

“Wonderful,” JJ finished, reaching over to touch your other hand that rested on the table, “And congratulations - you had everyone fooled.”

“It’s been hard,” You conceded, “Sometimes during hard cases, it was slightly too hard, but we’ve gotten through it.”

“Oh, you guys,” Penelope tilted her head to the side, “You’re too adorable.”

“And on that note,” You smiled, picking up your purse, “I think we should probably go.”

You said your goodbyes, and Aaron managed to get out his own through his uncharacteristic blushes and stutters, and you made your way out to Aaron’s car, hand in hand. 

“Why did you come?” You asked him out of curiosity once he’d climbed into his side of the car.

“Honest answer?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded, turning your body towards his, “Really, I saw that photo of you with the guy, and I didn’t even think about it. I just got in the car.”

“Oh, you were jealous,” You teased, poking his arm gently, “It’s okay, Hotchner, I’m all yours, anyway.”

“Good,” He leaned over the centre console, fingers gripping your chin and encouraging your face closer to his, “Because I’m all yours.” 

Each of his kisses was a seal to his promise.

It was only in the morning, when you finally checked your phone after a night with Aaron, that you realised another photo had been snapped of you. One of you and Aaron walking out of the bar holding hands. Penelope had sent it to the group chat with the message ‘Mission finally successful.’ 

The group chat had barely shut up since, question after question rolling into your inbox.  

You groaned, falling back into your pillow, where Aaron kissed a path from the tip of your middle finger to your cheek, smiling against your skin. 

“If it makes you feel any better, Dave will stop bothering us about telling the truth now,” He mumbled into your neck, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you played with his hair. 

“Very true, Hotchner. Just remember: it was your jealousy that got us into this mess, so you’re dealing with the questions we’re going to get.”

He laughed into your skin, an agreement.

[whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan]

⛓️ Please, I’m begging. Just let me touch you… ⛓️

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Chan brought home his heart handcuffs as a memento, and now they’re finally being used appropriately.

✎ CW: Established relationship, blindfolding, bondage, handcuffs, hand job, blow job, riding, nipple play, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), degradation, praise, dirty talk, big ol’ daddy kink (as usual)

✎ Word count: 2,954

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

You cross and uncross your legs, trying to find the perfect position to surprise your boyfriend in.

He’s headed back home after a long day of recording, and you’re ready to welcome him with freshly shaved legs, a perfectly trimmed landing strip, and an incredibly short skirt. But you have something else up your sleeve, too. Or in your hand, more like.

Chan’s black heart handcuffs came home with him one day, but they’ve been sitting in a drawer ever since. Putting them to use is long overdue, so they — plus one of his ties — currently sit in your lap, just biding time.

You put your right knee over left, angling your body diagonally in the chair so you can lean back a little and give him a nice view of the underside of your thigh and the teensiest peek at your lace panties. The tie sits over your knee, enough to make it prominent, but not hide too much leg. Yeah, perfect. And it really is, because you hear the door unlock almost immediately.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” Chan calls out, so focused on placing his things down that he hasn’t noticed you yet.

“Hey…” you purr, the word coming out low and slow.

He turns his head toward you, and his eyes travel from bottom to top, taking their sweet time enjoying the little show you’re putting on.

“Oh? What’s this now?” he asks, striding toward you.

Twirling the handcuffs around your finger, you slowly look up at him with just your eyes, keeping your head still.

“Figured we’d try something new today,” you answer.

He finally reaches the chair and looms above you. He’s close enough to touch, but he doesn’t deserve that yet.

“So, are these for you? Want daddy to tie you up, Princess?”

He places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up toward his. He’s smirking down at you with those intense brown eyes, and you can’t wait to turn the tables.

“Actually, no,” you say, standing up slowly. Your bodies are an inch away, maybe less. One slight movement, and you’ll be chest to chest, hip to hip. “They’re for you.”

His dark expression is a mix of confusion and intrigue. He raises an eyebrow at you but maintains that sexy smirk and waits for you to speak again.

“I’m gonna have my way with you tonight, daddy.”

The palms of your hands press into his solid chest, slowly traveling upward to close your fingers around his neck. His head falls back just enough to give you more room to play without breaking eye contact.

“Exactly what do you plan to do to me?” he asks.

Your weight shifts to the balls of your feet to give you a few extra inches. You wet your lips and place them on the outside of Chan’s ear before speaking softly.

“Whatever I want.”

You take him by the hand and lead him to the bedroom, stopping once you’re in the doorway. A quick kiss on his plump lips then you’re wrapping the tie around his head and knotting it at the back. A few slight adjustments ensure his field of vision is entirely darkened.

“Hands together,” you command.

He does as he’s told and brings his arms forward. His thick biceps stretch the cotton shirt he’s wearing, and it’s clear he’s flexing to impress.

The handcuffs slide open and then click closed around both wrists. He’s at your mercy now.

You lead him to the bed, mapping out a clear path so he won’t trip. He follows willingly without making a peep.

You touch his chest to signal him to stop. You undo his belt buckle, then the button and zipper on his pants. The denim needs some help over his muscular ass, then falls in a pile at his feet.

You crouch down to help him remove his shoes and step out of his pant legs. You settle on your knees and direct him onto the bed with hands on his hips. But now he’s just sitting there, smiling like a goof.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“Nothing. I’m just excited, that’s all,” he says, unable to contain his giggles.

Your brow furrows. He’s not taking you seriously. You’ll show him.

His cock is stiff in his boxer briefs, but you know he can get harder. You rise to your feet and turn so you can lower your ass into his lap. Hands on knees for support, you make light contact on his thighs and move your hips back and forth slowly.

“Ohhhh…” he moans, handcuffed wrists rising to his chest to give you more room to work.

You lower your hips further, making sure you tease his cock with each movement. He’s starting to twitch against your ass, and pre-cum is soaking through his underwear. You glance back at his face to see him alternating between pursing his lips and forming a tiny o with his mouth.

“Not so funny now, is it?” you ask, settling into a circular rhythm over his throbbing dick.

“Naur, it’s… I…” he mumbles between soft moans.

He reaches for your shoulders to force you down permanently, but the handcuffs only give him enough leeway to grasp where your neck meets your torso. His pull is strong and you have to brace yourself on his thighs to maintain control.

“Not yet, baby,” you scold, pushing up and out of his grip to stand again.

Chan whines and reaches out for you, but it’s no use.

“Please…” he whimpers, the corners of his beautiful lips turning down into a frown.

“Please what?” you purr.

“Oh god, come on, don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what. You’re just teasing me.”

“Hmmmm... Maybe just a little.”

“Maybe just a lot.”

You suppress a giggle and take a few seconds to compose yourself before speaking again. You love watching him squirm.

“Move back to the headboard for me.”

Again, he does as he’s told with no objection, though he does fumble a bit to figure out exactly where he is in the dark. Once he’s settled, you crawl toward him and spread his legs so you can sit between them.

“Want me to touch you again, daddy?”

“Please.”

“Hands or mouth?”

“Mouth, oh god, mouth,” he growls.

His cock reaches for you again, begging for the wet warmth behind your lips. You pull his boxers down below his balls and lean in, exhaling long, strong breaths on him.

“One quick thing first,” you say, pulling away — to his surprise and dismay.

The handcuff key is on the nightstand, waiting for your next move. You make quick work of undoing one of his hands, just to loop the chain through the slotted headboard before trapping his wrist once again.

The sight of him — arms above his head, eyes covered, mouth agape, chest rising and falling rapidly, cock twitching against his toned stomach — has you clenching your cunt. And all of this is yours.

His hips buck upward, begging for contact. You’ve probably teased him enough, for now.

Lips parted, your head lowers once again to his dick, taking its head into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him before running along his slit. You conjure a ball of spit from your throat and let it fall from your lips. It slides down his long shaft, coating him in you.

You take him in once again, deeper this time. Lips close tight around his veiny length and you bob your head up and down, up and down — caressing his cock’s underside with your tongue.

His breaths are rapid, shallow. He won’t last much longer if you keep this up. And that just won’t do.

Your mouth’s embrace is quickly replaced by the light grip of a cold hand, and he groans again. You stroke him teasingly, slowly, keeping a watchful eye on his disappointed expression.

“Someone’s ungrateful,” you chide.

“No, I’m not,” he pants. “That was just… so good. I was so close.”

“If I finish you off now, what am I gonna do? Who’s going to take care of my tight, aching cunt?”

“I’ll get hard again for you, I promise. Please, please, please... I’ll do anything for you… your mouth.”

“You promise? I’ll be so disappointed if I can’t ride daddy’s thick cock…”

“I promise you will, please. Oh god, y/n… pleasepleaseplease…”

He’s a writhing mess — pulling against the wood of the headboard with the cuffs and thrusting in and out of your hand still wrapped around his dick. It’s pitiful, really, how quickly he crumbles under your control.

You drop a few more globs of spit down to lubricate his cock, and focus your fingers on its head. Your thumb presses down on his slit and his body shivers.

“M-more…” he exhales.

All five fingers surround and play with his sensitive cockhead, and Chan’s head falls back against the headboard.

“Your mouth, please…”

You can’t resist anymore, he looks so beautiful begging for you like this.

You keep working your fingers, lowering your head slowly so he can’t feel and predict your movements. Your wet lips gently kiss his tip before taking him into your mouth again, and he yelps.

He thrusts up at the same time you push down, and his cock hits the back of your throat with force. You consider taking a quick break after the impact, but the cry that escapes his lips is so delicious you can’t help but continue.

One hand working the base, another toying with his balls, and your mouth taking him in as far as you can over and over has his thigh muscles tensing within seconds.

“Baby, I’m…”

Almost immediately, he’s shooting his load down your throat, and you swallow every drop. It drives him wild when you suck him dry, and you have every intention of doing that multiple times this evening.

A few disjointed thrusts later and he’s finished, mouth hanging open and limbs hanging limp while he rides out the rest of his high. You let him slip out of your mouth, and push yourself up to sit on your heels. He deserves a few seconds of peace before you rev him up for round 2.

You lift your shirt over your head, unhook your bra and toss them in a corner. Your skirt and underwear are next, sliding down your legs and taking flight before landing softly in the same vicinity. You want to give him more time, but your pussy is throbbing and you need his lips on you.

You crawl into his lap, sitting back on his thighs. Your fingers trace the outline of his abs through his shirt and your lips press against the soft, glistening skin on his neck.

“Hey, baby,” you hum. “Can you do something for me?”

“Yeah, yes,” Chan replies. “Anything.”

“Open your mouth, daddy.”

The good boy follows your instruction, parting his thick lips and readying his tongue. Your weight shifts to your knees, pushing upward to angle a breast into his mouth.

He closes his lips around your nipple immediately, sucking and licking the hard nub. He swirls his tongue around you and hums. The vibration makes you tingle, and you lower yourself down onto his thigh to get some friction.

“God, you’re wet,” he mumbles around your tit.

And he’s right. You’re practically dripping onto his thigh at this point.

“Wanna taste me?” you purr.

He groans around your skin, and his dick twitches against your leg. You’re guessing that’s a yes, then.

Your fingers travel down to your pussy, collecting as much of your juices as you can.

“Open,” you command.

He releases his hold on your nipple and drops his jaw again. Your fingers enter his mouth, slipping past his lips and teeth to press the liquid onto his tongue. Chan licks and sucks each finger one by one, not letting a single bit go to waste.

Your hips move back and forth against his thigh now, so incredibly turned on by your boyfriend that you can’t go much longer without him inside you. You grip his half-hard cock in an attempt to coax it back to full mast with some well-timed strokes.

“God, I want to fuck you,” he growls.

“With this tiny thing?” you tease. “I need you big and thick and hard for me first.”

You mean to kiss him quickly, but he feels your breath coming nearer and his lips crash into yours. It’s a sloppy battle of tongues and lips and teeth that neither of you seems to win. But his dick keeps twitching into your hand, so you’re down to keep fighting.

You pull away just long enough to catch your breath and speak.

“Come on, baby, I need you,” you whine. “I need your big cock inside me. Please.”

Lips meet lips before he can reply. Your mouths taste like green tea and pure sex, and all he can do is thrust into your hand and pull at the headboard for the thousandth time at this point.

“This pussy is all yours, daddy. Stretch me, fuck me, take me.”

“Jesus christ…” Chan groans, and you feel his tip once again dampening with pre-cum. Finally.

You reposition your hips directly over his and angle him toward your slit. You rub his head up and down until it catches and he enters you ever so slightly. You could easily take him all the way in right now, but you lower down inch by inch to let his sensitive cock adjust to the sensation.

Folds touch the prickly skin at the base of his dick, and you can’t hold back anymore. You reach behind you to grip his thighs and fuck yourself on his cock.

Throaty moans from both of you fill the room as your body raises and lowers and rolls and circles above him, doing whatever feels right at the moment. And, god, does it feel great.

“Babe…” Chan whines.

You’re breathing so heavily that the best you can manage in response is a grunt.

“I-i need to touch you,” he breathes, pulling at the headboard again.

“No, Channie… let’s just…” you say between deep breaths.

“Baby, please, I’m begging. Just let me touch you. I can’t see you. I need to touch you.”

He makes a good point. But you’re so close.

“I’m gonna… finish… first,” you pant and reattach your mouths.

He captures your lower lip between his teeth, and it’s enough to send you over the edge. You come on his cock with a vibrating intensity, walls closing in around him. You can only pray he doesn’t finish, too.

You lean against his chest once you’re done, trying to catch your breath.

“Please, baby. My hands,” Chan pleads.

Oh yeah, hands. You grab the key off the nightstand and aim for the hole at the base of the handcuffs. The lock clicks above his head, and you free his hands at the same time you speak.

“Fuck. Me. Dumb.”

“Gladly.”

His strong hands grasp your hips, lifting you up and flipping you over with ease. He positions you on all fours and locates your pussy with his fingers before he pounds his cock into you, splitting your walls around his length.

One hand roughly grabs a tit and the other reaches under your arm to grab your throat, tilting your head back. He squeezes just enough to make your head spin as he relentlessly stuffs your cunt.

His T-shirt dulls the wet sound of skin slapping skin, but it’s still loud enough that you’re sure the neighbors can hear.

“Fuck this!” he yells, and his hands leave to remove the tie from his eyes and rip his shirt off. “Daddy needs to watch you fall apart this time.”

His grip on your neck returns — tighter this time — and he pulls himself down to rest his chest on your back and plant wet, sloppy kisses along across your shoulder blade.

“Come for me. Come on daddy’s cock.”

The hand not on your neck goes to your engorged clit, and the slightest brush of his finger has you quivering in his arms. He pushes into it, making small circles with his fingertip.

“Fucking christ, Channie,” you moan.

“Yeah, baby? Tell me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel. Tell me how it feels when daddy fucks your tight cunt.”

“It’s… so good. So fucking good. Please don’t stop. Don’t… ah-”

His pace quickens and he squeezes your throat harder still, mercilessly rubbing your over-sensitive clit and putting those thick, wet lips up to your ear.

“Come for me. Now.”

Your second orgasm hits so much harder than the first, and you feel your body about to collapse on the bed the second you start screaming in ecstasy. But his big hands hold you by your stomach and chest, keeping you steady while you cry out and shake.

He pulls your torso up so you’re both upright, and pulls you into his chest. His strong arms hold you close, and he hums and kisses your neck while you come back down.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “You did such a good job.”

One more kiss before he slides out of you and repositions your bodies so you rest on his chest. Your head is just under his, and he’s removing sweat-soaked strands of hair from your glistening face.

“My beautiful baby, you were amazing. You’re so amazing,” Chan says between quick kisses on the top of your head.

“Mmm, you too,” you mumble, more than half asleep. “But… you didn’t...”

“Naur, it’s ok. That was for you, sweetheart.”

He drapes his arms over you, keeping you safe and warm in his loving embrace, with no plans to let go any time soon.

[kinardsevan]

HC? Or something crossed my mind idk, Tommy volunteer as a big brother/or just to help in a group home, and have a special bond with one of the kids there since he sees himself in him..

because I messed up the responses, this is @thatmexisaurusrex's request for Buck & Tommy calling eachother on a slow afternoon at work.

This is m-rated, nearing explicit, towards the end. Nothing too graphic, but definitely suggestive. also, since we're just existing in previous universes of mine today, this one fits in the same world as the prompt for "bobby overhears Tommy call him his father-in-law".

-

Evan sighs, sinking down onto the ground on top of the firehouse. It’s beautiful outside, but the team is still on shift for roughly eight hours, and the shift has been…slow. They’ve only seen three calls so far, which feels a little ridiculous considering it’s a nice day outside, which usually means cookouts, bonfires, and generally reckless behavior when it comes to fire. 

Three. Fucking. Calls. 

He spins his phone on his knee briefly. He tries not to call Tommy too much on shift. They already live together and work in the same field. Granted, Tommy has never once complained about it in the past three years, and he always seems rather cheerful when Evan does call him on shift. But still. 

Any decision Evan thinks he has to make is quickly silenced when the phone starts buzzing in his hand, with the bolded text of “Husband” framed by two blue hearts pops up on his screen. A smile crawls its way across his face as he flips the phone into an upright position and clicks the little green phone icon, accepting the call. 

“Oh thank Jesus,” Tommy mutters with a groan. “I’m so bored.” 

Evan laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“Are you guys doing any better over there?” Tommy whines. “I’ve been on two flights today, and they were both done within an hour.” 

Evan chuckles again. “Three calls so far. Last one was about four hours ago. Cap says everything coming in right now has been east of Pasedena or down in Panorama City. Too far out for us unless it goes three-alarm or higher.” 

Tommy huffs, leaning back wherever he is. Evan assumes he must be in 1701 because it looks like he’s on the floor of a chopper. 

“I have deep cleaned everything in sight, inventoried the helicopters and both planes, even helped with some of the inventory on the trucks,” Tommy says. “Checked up on current registrations and certifications. There’s not a damn thing to do.” 

Evan can only smile at his husband as the older man complains. For all the times they’ve complained to one another over Facetime while on shift, Tommy has never been one to actually complain about being at work with nothing to do. 

Tommy huffs, but after a moment, his eyes are on the screen of his phone again, and he furrows his brow. “Why do you look so entertained at my misery?” 

Evan smirks at him. “I like seeing you flustered. It’s kinda hot, honestly.” 

Tommy gives him that look; the one that silently tells him to tread carefully, unless he wants to find himself pressed into a mattress or countertop sobbing for release. 

“Hey, so what was that story Charlie was telling at the wedding,” Evan asks, referencing back to their discussion over cigars a few weeks back. 

“No, Evan,” Tommy replies, and the tone is there now too. Evan’s lips twitch with unfettered cunning, knowing he’s pushing Tommy’s buttons. 

“Oh come on,” Evan states, clearly egging him on. “Didn’t I hear something about a screwdriver down?” 

Tommy’s jaw clenches and he just shakes his head, although there’s no hiding the way the corners of his mouth are twitching, desperately trying to give in to the smile that he’s trying not to give his husband. 

“You know we’re going into a four day after this,” Tommy reminds him, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “You might want to tread carefully.” 

Evan raises an eyebrow at him, grinning lasciviously back at Tommy. “I think you assume that I didn’t consider that already.” 

Tommy stares at him from the tiny screen, and even though nothing about his expression changes, there’s a multitude of unspoken words shared between them. The smoldering in his eyes that tells Evan about nights pressed back-to-chest, nails drug across his chest and Tommy grinding with fervor, drawing sinful noises out of Evan like it’s his job. The slight twitch of his eyebrows suggests afternoons lost to ‘don’t move an inch or we’ll start all over’ . The way his tongue slips between his lips to wet them calling up memories of being chest-to-chest, teeth biting necks and shoulders, nails dug into spines, tongues lapping into mouths that swallow sobs like water in a desert. 

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to turn yourself up to eleven for the next four days,” Tommy warns, and the smirk on Evan’s face entirely suggests that he does not care. Turned up to eleven is the implication of total control turned over to his husband in the bedroom, whereas one is them meeting on an even field, usually when they want to take it slow and eject romance into things. 

But Evan just did that for a week and a half in Havana. He’s more than happy to turn things up to eleven. Let Tommy work him over. 

“Please, Daddy,” he replies softly, pulling the phone close to his face so that Tommy hears him but no one else does. His tone is just this side of breathy, barely moaning. Still, Tommy’s neck flushes, and Evan knows he has him. 

“When do you get off again,” Tommy asks, switching the subject. Evan pulls the screen down on his phone and then back up. 

“Like seven and a half hours,” he replies. 

Tommy nods. He’s up and moving again, and after a moment, Evan hears a door close, and the smirk reappears on his face. Tommy’s finding privacy. 

Evan pushes himself up from the ground, walking further from the door for rooftop access. It’s unlikely that anyone is coming up to bug him, given that Eddie was taking a nap last he checked and Hen and Chimney were locked into an intense game of Mario Kart. Athena was around for a visit, keeping Bobby entertained. 

Tommy’s phone rests on some kind of countertop and Evan grins as he sinks down into a chair. 

“So when you get home,” Tommy states, pulling at the zipper on his flight suit. He’s doing it slowly, and Evan can tell it’s on purpose. He gulps down the wave of saliva flooding his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Tommy reaches a hand in, pulling up the t-shirt he has on under the flight suit, although his hand stops halfway up his chest, only giving Evan the slightest sight of his abs where the zipper ends. Tommy leans forward then, pinning both hands on either side of the phone, out of frame. 

“You’re going to be a good boy,” Tommy states. It’s an order. Evan gulps, feeling himself starting to get uncomfortable in his pants. The slightest shift of his shoulder has Tommy lifting a hand, wagging a finger at him. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises. “No touching. Clock starts now and ends on Sunday.” 

Evan’s eyes go wide. They’ve never started something this early, let alone gone that long. Three days is about as long as he’s handed over control to Tommy, and even then, it usually begins and ends in their bedroom. This is a new layer, and he’s hot under the collar just thinking about the implications. 

Tommy stares at him for a long moment, that extends long enough that Evan realizes he’s supposed to respond. If he has any reservations against the ideas, now would be the time to say something. Granted, Tommy would never be upset with him if he decides to safeword out early, but he’s also silently asking if it’s okay to start now. 

“Okay,” Evan rasps, clenching his hand into a fist and resting it on his knee. It’s all he can do not to moan because he swears just by saying yes he gets harder. Tommy waggles an eyebrow at him, pulling his t-shirt. He adjusts it and fiddles it the zipper, clearly trying to play with Evan the same way the younger man was just playing with him. 

“I’ll be home an hour later,” Tommy reminds him. Evan nods. “I expect to find you silenced and waiting.” 

The slightest moan passes Evan’s lips. Tommy wants him gagged and on his knees, hands behind his back. 

“Sh-…C-can I prep?” Evan stammers, his voice husky with wanton. 

It’s Tommy’s turn to smirk now as he shakes his head slowly. 

“The only way mi amor gets to prepare is if it happens naturally. Everything else will be taken care of when I get home.” 

Evan shudders, and the heat in Tommy’s gaze, the grin on his face, is almost enough to make him feel like his heart is going to give out. He's not allowed to do anything to himself, but if he's aroused, Tommy expects it to happen without any assistance of his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. Tommy grins at him, and then a moment later, someone is knocking on the door of whatever room he’s in. Evan can hear Lucy’s voice briefly, asking questions but not clearly enough that he can make everything out. A moment later, Tommy glances back at the phone. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you at home in a while.” 

Evan nods, forcing himself to take deep breaths. “See you at home.” 

The call ends a moment later, and he has to stay in the chair and keep breathing. There’s no way he can go back inside right now; he’d be roasted for his unmistakeable boner. 

He checks the time on his phone again, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. Eight hours. Eight hours until he’s with Tommy in person again. He can hold on until then. He has to.

Eight. Long. Hours. 

[spicyspiders]

sweet that it’s so bitter

Ghost x male reader because I just love a man with a deep voice and an accent. No warnings except for smut. Hope you enjoy!

In the number of missions you have had with Task Force 141, you worked hard to make sure what you were supposed to do would go down without a hitch. But sometimes, things were out of your control. 

Those things are your squad mates. You liked them, and you knew when you were out on the field with them, that they would have your back. Even though you liked them, some still had a habit of getting on your nerves. 

Tonight you were on a simple recon mission. It was just supposed to be you and Ghost, so it really should not have been that much of a surprise when he pulled you from around the corridor you were walking down and into a cramped storage closet, but those few seconds ended with your heart barreling in your chest. 

“Quiet,” Ghost whispered, “your earpiece wasn’t working,” his warm breath fanned out over your ear and down your neck. He had you pulled flush against his chest, with one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other was wrapped up your chest so he could cover your mouth with his gloved hand. 

It took a bit of squirming and maneuvering to face him, but you eventually did. “Why’d you pull us in here?” It was pitch black in the closet, so instead of being able to see Ghost, you could only feel his heat around and on you. 

You felt one of his hands move from where they were on your hips for a few seconds, only to shortly return before he answered, “You were about to be caught,” his voice had lost its muffle, meaning that his hand left to pull his balaclava up to free his mouth. 

You put your hands up against his chest, trying to push him away, but there wasn’t enough space. You gave up after your second attempt and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I don’t get caught,” you grumbled. 

“You can blame it on your faulty communicator, if that’ll make you feel better,” Ghost responded. 

“You can’t see but I’m glaring at you,” you would cross your arms across your chest, but they were currently resting on Ghost’s. 

Ghost chuckled softly, “are you now?” 

Something you learned about Ghost when you first joined the squad was that he was good at everything. He was good at everything related to your jobs and then some. Then some included things such as knowing how to make you tick, kissing, and sex. Knowing that, it really should have been no surprise when he could find your mouth even in the darkness you were confined in. 

It hadn’t been that long since you had last kissed. Before missions, you would always try to sneak away for a few quick kisses and lingering touches, and with the line of work you were in, there was the looming possibility that your most recent kiss would be your last. 

“We’re on a mission!” You hissed after you pulled away. 

“You don’t hear that?” Ghost whispered into your ear. 

It took a little straining, but you eventually heard the sound of muffled voices outside the door. Before you could respond, Ghost leaned back to the ear he just whispered in and bit softly on the lobe. 

“Think you can be quiet?” He asked. The heat of the promise to come in his voice made a shiver run through you. Instead of responding, you moved your hands up so you could wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into another kiss. 

As his tongue pushed into your mouth, his hands moved from your hips to your ass to squeeze the skin beneath your clothing. When the kiss ended, you had to muffle your small noise of pleasure when one of his legs slide yours apart with his muscular thigh. 

This was not the first time he had gotten you off like this. There were times when you had extra time before missions where you utilized the time to work the edge off before you left. It was always easy. Even now, in a cramped closet that you had no idea what was even housed. 

The hard line of your cock met the warm surface of his thigh as you took your pleasure. Ghost tightened his grip on the globes of your ass and pulled you forward as you rolled your hips. Though the space you were in wasn’t ideal, it still had its benefits. Like with it being such a small space, the only direction that the small breathy moans Ghost would let out would go directly into your ears. 

You desperately wanted to move your hands down and put just enough space between your bodies so you could at least get your pants both undone, but as the heat began to build in your stomach, all you could really do was press yourself to him tighter. 

When Ghost moved his hands from your ass, you still drove your hips forward. His hands moved up your body until they were cupped on your face. Instead of pulling you back into a kiss, he pulled you forward so your forehead rested against his. 

“You’re filthy,” he whispered between gasps, “I can feel how hot you are,” he ended. He was right. You didn’t know how many degrees the temperate of the space had gone up since you both had entered, but it was enough to draw beads of sweat out to your brow. 

“You’re even worse,” you responded. You pressed kisses to the corners of his mouth and to the tiny area of skin that was also uncovered. “This stupid fucking mask,” in one last frantic jerk of your hips, you came. You bit into the clothing Ghost wore over one shoulder to keep your noises at bay. 

And Ghost, being annoying good at everything, only had to bury his head into the crook of your neck to muffle the breathy moans he let out into your sweaty skin when he came. He held you tightly against him as you both came down from your high. You separated when your breathing had both evened out. 

“I’m pretty sure I have a bruise,” you murmured when Ghost and his wondering hands went back down your body to your ass. 

Ghost rubbed softly at the covered skin, “want me to kiss it better?” He asked mockingly. 

“When we hit the showers back at base you can,” it took a few seconds, but you managed to find the doorknob. The muffled voices were gone, but you still turned the knob slowly. You turned to look back at Ghost before you left. In a small bit of light that was let into the closet, you watched as he pulled down the mask to cover the rest of his face again, “see you soon, lieutenant.” You said quietly before slinking out. 

You had a long night ahead of you, but you weren’t really sure if that pertained to the rest of the mission, or what was to come back at base afterward.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Drabble Series

"We're still on break, got it?"

“Y/n?” a female voice is muffled by the sound of the music outside. Fixing my curls, I tighten the strap of my two-piece before turning to Yoona, the host of the nightclub I’m currently working at. Very odd pairing, I know, I’m still not sure how I got the job, but it’s quick money, right? It’s only been a few weeks since I started, but I still cringe over the idea of satisfying the male gaze, so, I try to numb that part of my consciousness at work. As far as I’m concerned, this is temporary, just until I can pay off my mom’s hospital bills. She was diagnosed with Diabetes a month ago and had to be hospitalized for treatment, which unfortunately, as with everything in this capitalistic world was not free. 

Cut scene to the present time, I’ve learned to somewhat navigate this nightlife business, learning a few tips and tricks from the other girls, who are way older than me but are also struggling financially. I guess we are all just trauma-bonded in the end. To be quite frank, money wasn’t the only thing that fueled this decision of mine. Today also marks a month since Jungkook and I decided to take a break from our relationship. Nothing really happened aside from the fact that I was stood up and caught him with another girl, the usual plot, right? Anyway, I think this job came to me as a source of distraction, dissociating myself from reality until the thoughts in my head outscream the DJ at the front. Why didn’t we just break up, altogether? Fair question. Well, based on Jungkook’s words, he was meant to “change” over this period of separation and supposedly “can’t bear to lose me”, or something like that.  We’ll see, he’ll either be my everything or yet another lesson. 

“Someone is here for you. They’ve booked out a VIP room?” Yoona sounds and looks unsure, resting her head on the door frame before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Who? Is it Mark? I told the security not to let him in anymore,” I say almost irritated by the mere thought of that man. Ugh, he was the epitome of a manchild, always whining and demanding everything to go his way. I’m sorry, but my dignity will not be negotiated over money. I would rather die poor than have someone walk all over me because they can. 

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry. It’s so busy out there, you know with Valentine's Day and all,” she sighs, rubbing her temples. Oh, right. It’s also my first Valentine's without Jungkook in about two years. Just more fuel to the fire, I guess. 

“That’s okay Yoona, thanks for letting me know,” I reassure her with a soft smile, taking a deep breath before heading out. She wasn’t lying, the club is full to the brim. Every corner is occupied by a man with a stack of dollar bills in his hands, surrounded by bottles of champagne and naked bodies. 

Knock Knock Knock 

“Hello … what? What are you doing here, Jeon?” I almost yelp, jumping from the sight of his rested form on the velvet couch. Those naked bodies that I mentioned before, well, turns out I wasn’t an exception, covered in nothing but a lacey two-piece bedazzled with fake rhinestones. So, you could imagine the panic in my eyes, as I tried to pathetically hide behind a nearby curtain. Technically, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen already, but now it’s different. 

“I don’t know, what do people usually come here to do?” Jungkook grins, stretching his body before resting his head on his tattooed hand. 

“How did you find me?” I snap, still behind the curtain, too ashamed to come out. 

“Does it really matter if I’m already here?” there is a distinct hint of lure in his tone as his eyes focus on my furrowed expression. 

“Stop playing. I told you we needed a break,” I snap again, only this time with my body fully exposed to his visual field. Crossing my arms over my chest, I walk towards him, determined to prove that I in fact am not flustered by his presence. 

“I am on a break … and it’s pretty relaxing so far if I say so myself,” Jungkook grins, eyeing me up and down before leaning his arms on his knees, moving in closer. 

“Well, I’m not dancing for you if that’s what you want,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at his teasing sense of humour. 

“That’s okay, I don’t want you to dance,” he reassures with a soft smile, except nothing about him or this situation is soft. Suffocating at best. 

“Then what exactly do you want?” 

“Sit on my lap, y/n, and we’ll see what happens next,” he says hushedly, hooded gaze looking up at my scattering eyes as his hands trace up my thighs. 

“Fuck off Jungkook,” I try to walk away until his grasp on my arm tightens, pulling me back onto his lap. Now, inches away from each other, there is virtually no air to breathe. 

“Careful love, you know I only ask nicely once,” he whispers into my ear, softly nibbling on the skin before looking back at my flushed face.  

“Let me go, Koo,” I insist with my gaze still lowered as I try to push myself out of his grip. 

“Mhmm … Koo. I missed your voice. Say it again, y/n,” Jungkook pleads softly, leaning his head closer to meet my eyes. “Please?” he adds, caressing my red cheek with the back of his hand. Feeling my chest heave up, it’s hard to breathe. Unable to break out of his possession, there isn’t much I can do but give in to his desires. 

“Koo?” I say softly, innocent eyes looking up at his darkened orbs as his fingertips traced my lips.  

“Good girl, aren’t you?” he grins with a sly wink, before nuzzling his face into my neck, hugging my form tighter than before. Feeling his hot breath on my skin, I can’t help but succumb to the adrenaline and panic running through my veins. 

“I have to go,” I stutter abruptly, moving his face up to mine. Searching his eyes, there is an evident sense of emptiness behind them. Sadness even. 

“Please stay, y/n. You must be tired, let me take care of you,” he pleads into my palms, placing a soft kiss on the tip of my index finger which was covered by a bandaid. And, although I knew I would regret it later, I stayed. 

“Okay,” I whisper, straddling his thighs as my legs go numb at this point. Nibbling on my lips, I watched as he pulled out a black ribbon out of his jean jacket. 

“May I?” he asks innocently. 

“Oh, do I have a choice?” I chuckle at the way that innocent smile of his quickly turned into a sly grin. Tucking a few curls behind my ear, Jungkook leans closer before tying the ribbon over my eyes, gentle with his touch. Giving up yet another sense to his possession, I feel the panic rush in again. 

“Wait!” I snap abruptly, gripping his arms. “Whatever you do … this doesn’t mean anything. We’re still on a break, got it?” I try to convince both of us, before finally giving in. 

“Of course, whatever you say y/n,” Jungkook whispers into a needy kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip as his hands unclasp the bedazzled bra. Feeling his kisses go down to my neck, purple hues of desire begin to mark my skin. One thing is for sure, our lust for each other has been desperately fueling the whole of that break. And, as I hesitate to touch him, Jungkook senses my tension before placing my hands on his exposed chest, gliding them up and down his defined abs. 

“It’s still all yours, baby,” he whispers into my ear, laying me down on the velvet couch. Alarmed by the cracking sound in the background, my chest heaves up in suspense before a cold sensation hits my consciousness. Gliding an ice cube down my stomach, Jungkook’s hooded eyes watch in satisfaction as my back arches from the feeling. Licking the trail of melting water, he sucks on the soft skin, leaving a few love bites behind that turn me into a whimpering mess. 

“Koo,” I whine, reaching out to feel his arms. That is until a yelp escapes my parted lips as he glides the melting ice cube under my panties, which are already wet. With my chest heaving up, there was no time to even protest as his grip on my thighs tightened, moving me closer to him. 

“I’ll warm you up, baby,” Jungkook reassures with a raspy tone, helping me take off the lacey fabric before putting it in his pocket. Leaving a trail of kisses up my thighs, he stopped by my throbbing core which was now hot and cold at the same time. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” he grins.

Don't Get Attached Masterlist

[nineteenninety-six]

Storm Filled Nights

Felt this was apt as I'm currently going through a thunderstorm. Also, somehow I'm managing being able to post at least once a week, insane.

A week of dark skies and rain-filled days had been leading up to a storm that was going to last a few days.

It had rained that morning like it had done every morning for the last week but the skies remained dark all day, the clouds too dark and thick for the sun to get through. The rain fell harder as the day wore on and as the evening approached. (Y/N) could hear the low rumblings of thunder in the distance.

Tommy had come home from the office in the late afternoon that day, a stark difference from the late evenings he usually did. He popped into the living room where (Y/N) was in with Charlie,

"The roads will flood in a few hours, I didn't want to risk it." He explains before he retreats into his home office.

Charlie was visibly upset about the poor weather, on the car journey home he had lamented about how his class weren't allowed outside on the playground due to the rain as they had every other day that week and he was getting pretty sick and tired of being indoors all day every day.

If the fields outside weren't flooded already, (Y/N) would let him run about for 30 minutes but at this rate, the moment he stepped on the grass, he would be knee-deep.

'I know it sucks to be stuck all day indoors but the rain is only falling harder and the thunder in the distance will reach us in no time." (Y/N) attempted to soothe Charlie who was staring forlornly out of the window.

(Y/N) pulled Charlie away from the window in hopes she could find something to distract him, 

“I’m sure some hot chocolate will perk you up, want to make some?”

The suggestion did indeed perk Charlie up as he eagerly nodded and rushed ahead to the kitchen causing (Y/N) to hurry after him.

Together they made hot chocolate for the both of them and for Tommy, his usual straight whiskey which they gave to him in his office before returning to the living room and curling up in front of the roaring fire.

When dinner time approached, the storm had picked up and gotten worse, the rain lashed against the window and the howls of the wind echoed through the old house. Dinner was a quick affair, everyone itching to get back to their rooms to prepare for the long night ahead of them.

Putting Charlie to bed that evening was no easy task either, the constant flashes of lightning and rumblings of thunder had seriously unnerved the young boy who refused to sleep. At first, he begged to stay with them but Tommy came to a compromise that he has to at least try to sleep in his own bed first before he sought comfort in theirs, Charlie agreed but only if they stayed with him until he fell asleep.

It took multiple bedtime stories and Tommy constantly leaving to refill his drink whilst ignoring the pointed glares (Y/N) threw him as he did so but Charlie did eventually drift off and (Y/N) and Tommy were free to retire to their room.

.•° ✿ °•.

The loudest thunder (Y/N) had ever heard had shaken Arrow House and caused her to wake up with a sharp gasp and Tommy woke up moments later, they barely had time to catch their breaths before their bedroom door slammed open and shut in quick succession and Charlie scurried to the bed.

“Charlie?” Tommy croaks out, still half asleep.

“I got scared…” Charlie whimpers as (Y/N) pulls him into her arms.

“You’re okay, you're safe” (Y/N) comforts him as she situates him between her and Tommy, making sure the duvet covered him.

“Can I stay with you?”

“Of course, you can sweetie, we’ll protect you, just go to sleep okay?”

Charlie gives a small nod and (Y/N) presses a kiss to his forehead before curling up next to him, Tommy casts one last look over his family before wrapping his arm around them and falling back to sleep as well.

[captain-mj]

MJ!! HOLY!! That warrior AU is freaking amazing!!

I'm humbly begging for a part 2 🙏🙏🙏

I'm way to invested now haha

A ton of people sent me Requests and i appreciated all of them so much!! Here y’all go. Part 1 here

Also I am so willing to make a 3rd part (and possibly more I maybe have several planned already) so feel free to just ask!

Ghost was a great sinner. He had perfected the art of it. Had broken every command. Coveted, killed, used God’s name as a curse. Slept with many people and had never been married.

But right now. This might be his greatest one. 

Soap had fallen asleep. He had moved in the night, gently leaning into Ghost. This was the sin that would damn him. 

Soap’s gentle breaths. He could feel them through his shirt. Gentle and even. Ghost should get up. Should shove him off. He didn’t. He enjoyed the heat of Soap’s body, relished in the false vulnerability. 

The morning light fell over his features, illuminating him. He looked so relaxed. His strong features catching the light in a way that made him look ethereal. 

Soap began to stir and Ghost quickly sat up, trying to erase what he had been doing. He stood up easily and pulled his coat back on. The house was well insulated, but it had still gotten cold in the night with no fire. 

“Finally, you’re up.” Ghost glanced down at him, watching him slowly blink awake. He reached down and cut his binds. Soap rubbed his wrists and Ghost noticed with a wince how red they looked. He’d have to find something a little more permanent soon. 

Soap looked at him with soft hooded eyes. “Ah.”

“Hope it was a dream?”

“Aye. Was dreaming you were a pretty blond lass. Real disappointed to see you.” Soap huffed and sat up. He stretched, muscles rolling under his skin. “How long are we going to share a bed?”

“Until I can find a way to make sure you don’t escape. Thought this was slightly better than tying your ankles to your wrists and leaving you in the living room.”

“Sick bastard.” 

“Never said I’d enjoy it.”

“Don’t have to. Can hear it in your tone.” Soap rolled his shoulders before shivering. He looked... so tiny. So cute. 

Ghost looked away. “I’m going to be busy. A guard will be outside the door. They’re instructed to kill you if you try to escape.” 

Soap looked at him with a small glare but nodded. “Fine.” 

Ghost glared at him. “Soap. Don’t make me have to hurt you. Just stay put.” He really didn’t want to. Just needed him to stay there. Stay safe. 

Ghost was not honest with himself if he could help it. He tried to avoid it to the best of his ability. But he had already lied to Soap and Shepherd, no use also lying to himself. Shepherd believed he wanted Soap to torture him for all he did on the field. That wasn’t even close to true. Soap was told that Ghost did it so he wouldn’t boost Shepherd’s ego. That was slightly closer. 

Ghost thought of Shepherd talking with Price. Price had looked uncomfortable, but Shepherd was there leader so they had to bite their tongues. Shepherd detailed what he would do to Soap. Described how he’d break him. Make him a concubine by a different name. 

Ghost had felt a strong mix of feelings at what he had talked about. Disgust at how casually he discussed assaulting him. Nausea as he remembered his own time as a “Spoil” under a cruel man. A heavy amount of hate. 

But underneath it all was a current of seething jealousy at the thought. It had caught him off guard. Even now, something possessive curled in his organs. He honestly didn’t want to hurt Soap. Soap was defeated after all. No need to be a sore winner. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to do other things to him. But lust was a sin and sinning was something Ghost excelled at. 

He’d never let Soap, or anyone for that matter, know any of this. He barely admitted it to himself. 

Before he left, he gave Soap some water and told him to cook if he wanted. 

“Don’t burn my house down.”

“Or what?”

“We’ll be homeless.” Ghost had deadpanned and Soap had laughed, looking shocked before he quickly looked away to fix his expressions. 

“Aye. Suppose we will.” 

Ghost nodded and walked away. He pulled on his gear, feeling Soap staring at him. He tried to turn around to catch him in the act but Soap looked away just fast enough. His hands clenched hard, taking a deep breath. 

Ghost didn’t touch him. Not once that morning. 

Price waved him over and he went to sit next to him. “You knew Shepherd wanted him.”

“Yes. That’s why I asked for him. Knew he couldn’t say no to me in front of everyone.”

“Simon. Careful.”

“I’ll be fine.” Ghost reassured. “It was worth it.” 

Price didn’t looked convinced but he let it go. The two of them talked about any news in their town. Price kept him up to date on things since he avoided leaving his home unless to go fight. His sword felt heavy on his hip. 

Alejandro and Shepherd joined them after a while, letting them finally start the stupid meeting. Ghost hated these. It was full of useless strategizing based on information that was probably fake. They weren’t on the field and none of them would agree on how to handle it, they never did. Inevitably, whoever was out commanding people would make a call and they’d pretend they never had the meeting in the first place. 

It was cycle. A vicious one that Ghost hated. 

The nice servant brought Ghost tea though. It was good tea, strong with sugar. He sipped it as they talked. 

“So, about MacTavish.” Alejandro spoke up and Ghost tried not to look at him, feeling an intense feeling of betrayal. “He still kicking?”

“Yes. He’s still alive.” 

Price looked at him, seeming to have just now realized Ghost never said what was worth it. All three of them were staring at him.

“Wait. He’s still alive?” Price asked.

“What are you doing to him?” Alejandro sounded slightly scandalized.

“What is he not doing to him?” Shepherd sounded a lot more interested. 

Ghost thought over his options. “He’s... alive. He makes a good bedfellow.” Lies. He stole the goddamn blanket. But the double entendre was enough to throw them off. 

Shepherd hummed. “Details?”

“No.” Ghost continued to sip his tea. He could feel Price’s disappointed stare piercing through him. Part of him wanted to explain that it wasn’t like that, that he hadn’t actually done anything, but if they thought he was keeping Soap for that, they wouldn’t question him not killing him. Soap would stay safe. His reputation could take the hit. Hell, may even raise it among certain of his men. He made MacTavish his whore. 

The idea made his nausea return. 

“So that’s why you wanted him. Should’ve known.” Alejandro smiled, but Ghost could see the tension in his shoulders. He was a tiny bit insulted by how easily they believed this now. 

“Are we done?”

“Yes. We’re done. Go enjoy the gift, Ghost.” 

Ghost nodded and stood up, his gear hugging his skin comfortably. The others were using the rare opportunity to wear just a shirt and pants with their coats, but Ghost preferred the leather gear. The weight of it kept him grounded. 

He left with no more fanfare, hating fucking meetings. 

The guard outside his home was still there. Their blade by their feet.

Ghost waved him off and went inside, rolling his shoulders. The place had been cleaned. Not very well, but there was significantly less dust everywhere. 

Soap jumped on him, blade in hand and Ghost disarmed him easily. 

“I’m wearing armor. That knife wouldn’t even… stop struggling.” He held Soap, watching him wriggle like a fish on a hook from where Ghost had his wrists. Soap looked at him defiantly. Ghost felt his breath catch. 

Fucking pretty asshole.

“You done?”

Soap grumbled. “Fine. I’m done.” 

Ghost nodded and took the knife from him. He pinned him to the wall and ran his hands along his sides, checking for weapons. 

Soap flushed hard and went still as possible until Ghost pulled away. He turned around, back flush against the wall. His eyes found their way to Ghost’s and he didn’t move. 

Ghost stared, confused. Soap’s clothes were clinging to him like he had been sweating. It hit him then that he didn’t have anything else Soap could wear than his own things. Fuck, he’d have to let him borrow his clothes. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad yet.

Unbeknownst to him, Soap was waiting for him to hit him. He had just attacked Ghost. In his own home. Honestly, he was half expecting to be flogged. Maybe beaten with in an inch of his life. 

“Do you want a bath?” Ghost didn’t care that he had attacked him. He’d do the same thing.

“What?” Soap stared at him, hopelessly confused by his jailer. 

“A bath. Your clothes look gross. I’ll have a tailor make you some but for now you can just borrow mine.” Ghost tilted his head. 

They stared at each other for a long while before Soap nodded. “Alright. That… sounds nice.” 

Ghost nodded back and pulled away. He luckily had the money and time to have a bathtub set up, but he had to get the water from nearby. He set some to boil so the water wouldn’t be cold. 

The entire time, he considered which clothes he’d let Soap borrow. He couldn’t give him any of his nicer ones. Those were his. 

If he looked hard enough, there might be some of his old clothes somewhere. They’d be a little smaller so they might fit Soap just a little better. 

He finished setting the bath and told Soap so, still very clearly in the bathroom. 

Soap started to undress, seemingly bothered at all about getting naked in front of Ghost. Ghost looked away, not sure if he was ready to commit such a sin yet. He made sure he didn’t see Soap’s body, not sure he wanted that to haunt his dreams. 

“You can leave you know. If you’re going to be such a prude.” 

Ghost took a deep breath. “What if you escape?”

“You know, if you want to see me undressed, you could’ve just ordered me to undress. Not lured me in like this.”

“You would’ve fought me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Soap sounded amused. “Are you going to avoid bathing with me here as well? You won’t eat in front of me.”

“I’ll tie you up in the other room.” Ghost was pretty hungry. He’d wait until Soap fell asleep to eat. It wasn’t the longest he went without food, but probably best not to get faint while holding someone captive. “Get in before it gets cold.”

“You warmed it up?” Soap sounded genuinely surprised. “Thank you.’ 

Oh. Ghost felt a flicker of something intensely warm in his chest. He didn’t respond. He could hear Soap sink into the water. 

Soap moaned softly at the feeling of the warm water on his muscle and Ghost tensed, hands clenching. The atmosphere in the room changed. He could feel tension like a goddamn storm. 

Soap let out a small sound under his breath, a shuddering shaky thing. Like he was scared. 

Only then did Ghost notice how this probably looked. Ghost’s hand on his weapon, his other hand clenched tight. His posture had tightened, making him look even taller. He was also looking at Soap, though he couldn’t remember turning his head. 

Soap looked afraid. Ghost was only available to see above his chest, but he could see the soft curly hair though. 

The last thing he wanted to do was scare him. 

Ghost was out of the room, door clicking behind him. 

Fucking hell. 

He went in the kitchen, finding that Soap had cooked. Nice. He pulled up his mask long enough to scarf down some food, not wanting to waste too much time. 

Unfortunately, none of the clothes he wanted could be found, so he pulled a random shirt and pair of pants and set them in front of the door. “Clothes are right outside when you’re ready to get out.” 

Ghost perched on the bed, thinking hard. 

This was sustainable, but he couldn’t let him go. He’d have to figure this out. Somehow. 

[heavy-swing]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #12 - Quarry

Content Warnings: None

Spoiler Warnings: None

Summary: Aelita Tirasch finds herself between a rock and a very eager Viera geologist from Sharlayan.

Check it out below or on Ao3:

“Excuse me.”

Aelita had hardly been able to hear the voice over the scraping of the plow she was using to till the family fields. Well, family was perhaps an overstatement. They were her fields, at the very least. 

“Excuse me, miss?” 

There was the voice again, slightly louder. As she continued dragging the unwieldy tool through the earth, it occurred to her that this voice might actually be talking to her, so she paused and looked up. 

Standing in front of her was a person she'd never seen before. They were a Viera, people she'd heard tales of from her parents with rabbit-like features; they were more common in Othard, and by extension Bozja, than they were here. Their voice leaned a bit more masculine, but they also had long green hair and a slightly posh sounding accent. Not from around here, Aelita thought to herself. Like me? Or maybe some kinda academic…

“Ah, hello. Sorry to bother you while you were in the middle of something, but I wanted to ask you if you've seen something before.”

Aelita set the plow down to rest in the soil and turned to face the stranger, subconsciously wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

“Well, what is it?”

The stranger floundered for a moment; clearly they'd been expecting a ‘no’. They dug around in a pouch on their hip, causing the tools on his belt to make a musical sort of clattering against each other. The sound drew her eye to them; they looked similar to what a miner might use, though some of them appeared to have been miniaturized, likely for fine detail work.

“This!” It seemed the stranger had finally found what they’d been digging for, and they held it up to Aelita so she could take a closer look. It was a small crystal: almost transparent, save for the faintest blue tint, as if it had sat outside too long and absorbed some of the color of the sky. “It’s called celestine,” they continued. “It’s often found in geodes, which are these rounded rocks of plain external appearance. But when you break one open with a hammer, you find crystals like these inside! I’ve been studying them as a small part of my thesis, looking at the distributions of certain types of gems and minerals across Eorzea.”

“So you are a scholar,” Aelita interjected, surprised she’d guessed correctly.

“Yes! Not an Archon or anything like that, not by a long shot, but I’m currently studying at the Studium in Sharlayan.” They extended their other hand for a formal introduction. “My name’s Chrysocolla. And you are…?”

Aelita reached out for his hand with a work glove-clad one of her own. “Name’s Aelita. Aelita Tirasch. But just Aelita is fine.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aelita! Now, back to the matter of this,” they continued, once again extending the crystal for easier viewing. “Seen anything resembling this?”

Aelita thought for a moment, reflexively tapping her chin as she did, as if trying to jar a memory in her brain loose. 

“I’ve definitely seen crystals in the rock before, though I’m not sure if it’s the ‘celestian’ that you’re looking for. I think it was close to the Blind Iron Mines down the road, though you’d probably have to go talk to Broenruht if you wanna dig around there.” She pointed in the mine’s direction. “Though there could be some of those rock-things you were talking about outside the mine that would be fair game.”

While she was talking, Chrysocolla had pulled out a notebook and started making notes, which he ceremoniously snapped shut when she’d finished. “One more question for you, and… no pressure on this one.”

“...Yes?” Aelita’s curiosity was piqued, and her raised eyebrows were hardly keeping it a secret.

Chrysocolla’s ears began to twitch slightly, and they grabbed a bit of their long green hair between their fingers to fiddle with. “Would you… be willing to help out by uh… breaking some geodes open for me? You’d be compensated, of course!”

Aelita silently considered the offer, and Chrysocolla nervously tried to fill the dead air. “I just, uh… Well, you looked really strong, and…”

Aelita tried not to let the compliment go to her head, but it seemed that a smirk that she’d no doubt learned from imitating her mother had made its way onto her face. 

“Sure. I’ll do it,” she replied, stopping them mid ramble.

“Oh, thank you! It’s such a relief to find a helping hand so far away from home. And like I said before, I can give you some of my stipend–”

Aelita cut them off again. “Do you need me to get a proper sledgehammer from the house? Or can we make do with what you’ve got?” 

“If you’ve got a hammer you like to use, by all means!”

“Be back in a sec, we can talk details on the road, all right?” she called over her shoulder as she walked back to the small farmhouse.

Maybe ma and papa were right, she thought as she peeked over her shoulder to see Chrysocolla crouched down and pawing through the dirt. Maybe I can make a life here after all.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, I understand that having a white dude on Tumblr recommending excellent black music makes about as much initial sense as me suggesting that you upgrade your home to cutting-edge VCR and landline phone technologies. Given the current racial tensions in the US right now, all I ask is that you give this white boy’s recommendation the old community college try. This week the focus will be on Santigold, a cross-genre artist that deserves way more attention than is afforded to her. I’ve been listening to Santigold’s music for nearly a decade, and I’ve said it before, but you guys can keep your Cardi B’s and your Nikki Minaj’s because when I’m hungry for excellent music, I come to the table for something rare, experimental, smart and versatile. Santigold delivers all of that, and more. Smash play on Look At These Hoes from her 2012 album Master of My Make-Believe, and if it pleases you, join me for rolling fields of gold below.

A genuine music industry trailblazer, Santi White started off her career as a mere A&R (her job was to find promising new artists and bring them in to sign contracts) for Epic Records. This Philadelphia-born multitalented maven started collaborating with musicians, and then in 2001 became the lead singer in a ska band called Stiffed. The best part of this group’s music was the vocals and lyrics, and after disbanding in 2005 or so, Ms White embarked upon her solo career. A solo career that has lasted nearly two decades to this year. There’s an island vibe to her music, and I’m not just talking about the style. Her music feels different than anything mainstream in terms of raw brain-power, exceptional flow and overall depth of meaning. She makes music that thinks as much as it works to go against the mainstream grain. She deserves respect and legitimate accolades for sticking to her guns and staying genuine through her career, rather than selling out and producing the equivalent of another WAP just for the sake of raking in millions from people with questionable taste in music. Along with having a sultry mezzo-soprano voice (my personal favorite lady voice type) her style is a mishmash of hip-hop, new wave, punk and electro. If you listen to her jams and don’t find your head and body bobbing to her beats, I believe I can officially pronounce that you have no actual soul in your body! If you spend any time at all studying the deeper meaning behind her jams, you will find complex themes of resilience, perception of reality and an overall complexity of character which few, if any ‘similar’ artists can even approach without immediately appearing to be outside of their mental depth. Just below you’ll find the music video for L.E.S. Artistes from her 2008 album Santogold. Enjoy!

As the first song on this post strongly suggests, Santi White ain’t no booty hoe. She’s highly educated, she’s a mother, and in terms of eloquence of execution… she’s an absolute industry badass. You owe it to yourself to take a deep dive into Santigold’s catalog and I implore you to revere artists like her as the mega-talents they truly are. Image source: https://tomtommag.com/2012/05/brooklyns-golden-child-santigold/

[mrssimply]

I was tagged by @peaches-n-screem, who valiantly continued to tag me in WIPs games despite my lack of participating most of the time (because of the cursed writer block). Thank you friend!

I'm still not back on the saddle yet, but I did write some things.

I wanna tag @m-lter @civilization-illstayrighthere and @katbatmadethat if they want to share some snippet of any current works - no pressure of course, I'm just always interested!

Two WIPs today:

Continuation of my Wild Animals Rebellion series (John Wick x Santino) and a snippet from my Jedi x cyberpunk AU

The Burning of Rome :

John came to consciousness in the way he always did: suddenly and completely awake, no transition between the void and full awareness.

The first thing he registered was the light: low, indicating the end of a day, coming through the window to the west of the room. The familiarity of his surroundings were the second thing he registered: The good quality bed sheets, the dark blue wall behind the bed, and the typical sounds of the D’Antonio mansion everywhere around him. Finally, John could smell the seabreeze in the air. He was back in Naples, having no recollection of the final segment of the trip, and the events leading up to it were still fuzzy.

Movement caught his attention on his left side. His eyes found Winston, to his surprise. It was rare for the manager to be found so far from his hotel, especially since its destruction about a year ago. Winston’s face was set in a disapproving moue as he looked over his charge. Today’s newspaper was laid on his lap, over his crossed legs, but John knew instinctively that his old friend hadn’t taken a word written on the day’s edition.

To most, Winston was an enigma, but with John he was always more open, it made him easier to read, and right now he was pissed. 

For a moment, John looked inward to try and find why the New York Continental’s manager was here in Italy, in the heart of D’Antonio’s territory, but his brain remained too foggy. He was still working on reflexes and survival instinct only. John took the time to assess his body’s condition and came up with the surprising conclusion that he was fine. Yet, something nagged the back of his mind, demanding to be acknowledged with all urgency. His subconscious was already on the warpath : bursts of adrenaline were diffusing in his blood system while his organism worked overtime to bring everything back online as fast as possible. 

It clicked a few seconds later. Everything aligned into place so suddenly it made the lingering headache of post sedation pulse in the ex-assassin's head. The shock of remembering what had happened robbed John of his next breath: incandescent rage filled him in the time it took for his lungs to fill again. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he vowed, voice dark and raspy.

John was going to kill Santino

And more of my Jedi x cyberpunk AU under the cut:

The Other Side of the Light

[Jackie just died]

Found on the edge of the Republic space, Socalar was known for its liberal government that turned a blind eye to a number of crimes : from smuggling drugs to human trafficking, with a hefty dose of corruption and political plots, it was a lawless zone in everything but name. Controlling the planet’s activity was made particularly arduous because of its secular magnetic field, created by the explosion of the moon at the end of the Entry War. It gave the planet a natural shield that filtered outside communication and kept internal ones hidden, which people used liberally. Socalar might officially be Republic’s territory, but it was more of a legally gray pirate base than anything else. In conclusion, the planet was the thorn in the senate’s side and a sore subject in the Order’s history, since they’d been just as unable as the Republic forces to bring peace to that quadrant.

Even worse, Jedi generally weren’t welcomed due to their part in helping the Republic win the Entry War. In Night City in particular, whole districts were hostile to their presence, with two notable exceptions.

Padre and V made their way to the Coyote Cojo in Heywood by airspeeders to avoid pedestrian traffic, but also for discretion. they might be tolerated here as Jedi because of their origins, that didn’t mean they were totally welcome. The Coyote Cojo was a consecrated neutral ground, where Mama Welles made everyone behave. Today of all days they were going to be on their best behaviors.

“You’re quiet,” Padre commented as they landed.

“Hm?” V said, coming out of his strange meditation. Coming back here brought mixed feelings of nostalgia and guilt. “Oh I… Just mentally preparing. It’s not — I don’t…”

He looked at his master with wide desperate eyes.

“Ah, V,” Padre replied, his accent thickening with shared pain, “grief is like that. It deconstructs the self, floods every part of our being, tears and carves new places in ourselves. It changes us,” he paused, extending an arm to gently grab V’s knee, “When the tide recedes, we discovers all these changes. The key is to believe these changes will make us grow: that the salt of our tears will become stones on which we can rebuild stronger foundations, that the iron in the blood we shed can be forged into new tools for us to use, that the pain we experienced will help us hear the song of the universe.”

His voice was like a balm over V’s psyche and he found himself breathing easier, but still gripped by one all-encompassing fear.

“What if I can’t?”

“You can, young one, I know it in my heart, and I can feel it in the Force. You can, you will. Just trust yourself. And if you can’t right now, then trust me."

[sachikokuroichi]

Herz an Herz (<-Link to AO3)

“Your handwriting is awful.”

Naruto had to look twice at the scroll he was holding in hand right now. He’d been looking forward to Gaara’s answer all week and this was everything he had to say?!

The blond was on the verge of crying. And here he thought that they could converse like this, get to know each other and become closer. Because let’s face it. Since the day he’d laid eyes on him, he knew that the red-haired jinjuuriki was going to be someone special in his life. Someone he wanted to call precious to him. The fact that Gaara came to help him with the Sasuke problem more than just once was not helping to keep his crush in check either.

Tossing the scroll into the depth of his chaos that had been his flat once, Naruto stormed outside. He really needed to clear his head and the best way to achieve that was training.

Meanwhile in Suna…

“Temari, have you seen the messenger scroll I had on my desk? I’ve been looking for it for a couple of days now.”

The blond kunoichi looked at her, a little (very) unnerved, brother. It was not like him to lose his things, not even misplace them. Also, it was definitely not in his normal behaviour to freak out like that over a simple messenger scroll. And for Gaara this was a big case of freaking out: He was currently wracking havoc in his office, using his sand to lift papers, tables, plants and every single one of the heavier pieces of furniture, even if there was no way that a messenger scroll could possibly fit underneath or behind it. Gaara was close to losing it. Okay, who was she trying to kid here? He was losing it and never had Temari been gladder that Shukaku wasn’t with Gaara anymore. He would’ve had a field day with the nervous energy her little brother was radiating right now.

She wondered what possibly could be in that messenger scroll that he freaked out like that. There had been no important paperwork of lately, just the one scroll from Konoha that she- oh.

“You mean the one from Konoha? The one ready to send back? I already sent it a few days ago.”

“WHAT?!”

Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Temari took a couple steps back. Gaara had never been the type to raise his voice. Lower it into icy depths that caused you to freeze or made you want to cease existing all together on the spot, yes, but he never got loud.

But there he was: his turquoise eyes, still marred from countless of sleepless nights, wide in surprise and with an unfamiliar look of pure horror within them, the earlier frantic whirling sand was now lying lifeless all around the office.

“I’m sorry, it looked finished, all closed up and sealed, so I thought-“

“He’s gonna hate me… my life is over…”

Temari watched Gaara let himself fall into his seat, burying his face in his hands, letting out a distressed sound.

“Gaara, what is this all about? Who was the scroll addressed to anyway?”

“Naruto… he sent me the scroll, wanted to write more regularly, keep in touch.”

Temari let out a sigh, relief cursing through her veins. Naruto was simple. There was no way that he wouldn’t forgive them for this mistake. He’d probably find it very funny.

“Naruto would never hate you. Maybe you weren’t finished writing it, who cares? It probably shows anyway. What did you write him?”

Gaara broke down there and then, letting everything spill out: How he was so happy to receive the letter, just for it to morph into something unpleasant, overwhelming him, because how could he be that happy over something that simple? Was it okay to feel that way? What did it mean?

After getting through this crisis (meaning he managed to shove the panic into the farthest corner of his mind) he struggled for some time to decipher the written words. Naruto’s writing was like him: lively, happy, easy to read, but wild and untamed and it showed. His penmanship was horrible.

But after some time he got used to it and it got easier to read the message, which left him with the most difficult task: It was now on him to write his response. There the real struggle began. What to write? What was okay? What too much? Was there some etiquette to follow? Would Naruto think of him as weird? He didn’t want to scare him away. He wanted the letters to continue. After even one single letter he could already claim being addicted to the feeling of receiving, opening and reading them.

“Then I remembered that it wasn’t too bad to let the heart do the talking.”

Temari felt a sense of dread rising. Her little, innocent brother knew close to nothing about feelings, especially gentle ones like friendship and love. Even if he worked hard to understand them better, he still lacked… experience.

“Back to my original question: What did you write him?”

“What came to mind first. I wanted to start off with a little tease, then complimenting him on his wonderful idea, how I felt when I got the letter, that I was looking forward to exchanging lots of them in the future.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad…?”

“I didn’t come very far before getting called away to a meeting. Then you sent it.”

“How far did you come?”

“Your handwriting is awful.”

“Kami-sama have mercy… that’s your definition of “starting off with a little tease”?! That was outright mean!”

“It’s not that bad… is it?”

Temari almost wanted to laugh at her clueless brother but seeing him anxious and vulnerable like that was enough to make her feel guilty about sending the scroll without checking with Gaara first. It was her fault they’re in this situation after all. She planned on doing whatever she could to fix her mistake. Maybe she should deliver the next message herself, explain the circumstances of the first to Naruto herself. And apologize to both of them. No matter how she hated to do that and how much it would hurt her pride. This was her little brother and his happiness was the most important thing to her. He deserved all the luck and love in this godforsaken world. And she would make it happen! But first things first:

“It’s gonna be fine. We’ll fix this. But Gaara… I need to know one thing before we do that. And I want you to be completely honest with me here.”

Gaara sent her a confused look, but nodded anyway.

“Is there a certain possibility that your feelings for Naruto maybe go further than friendship?”

The confusion in Gaara’s eyes grew with every second his brain had to compute the meaning behind her question. But there was no verbal answer and Temari was sure that was to the fact that her little brother had no idea himself. She had dumped a completely foreign concept on him there, that she was pretty sure of.

“Look, I don’t want to say that-“

“I’m in love with him, aren’t I?”

The way he muttered those words, completely dumbfounded by the revelation, but also with a certain uncertainty lying underneath, took her by surprise. He was not hesitant to say it out loud, it seemed more that it was almost an epiphany to him. That she’d given him a name for all those weird, foreign sensations within him. Those new feelings. But his past had taught him that love was a dangerous concept and it was just natural to be at least slightly scared of it now.

“Well, I can’t look into your head or your heart… but to me it looks like you’re at least crushing hard on him.”

“What should I do now?”

“Up to you. But I suggest that you write the letter you actually intended to send him so I can deliver it.”

Gaara did exactly that.

~*~

Naruto had been inconsolable for the past few days, training without too many breaks, not even once visiting Ichiraku’s for ramen and it was starting to worry his teammates as well as the Hokage. What possibly could’ve happened? He hadn’t left the village and within it there wasn’t too much that could’ve caused this. Time to bring out the big guns: They decided to consult Iruka.

Said Chuunin found his former student at one of Konoha’s countless training grounds. It really spoke for Naruto’s progress that he was spotted immediately.

“Iruka-sensei! What brings you here?”

“Can I not pay a dear former student of mine a visit from time to time?”

“You’re way too busy for that and we both know that.”

Ouch. Iruka never thought that Naruto could be that brutally honest. Seems like his little troublemaker had indeed grown up. And his teammates had been right: He was in a very bad mood.

“But I’m here, aren’t I? So let’s get some ramen and catch up.”

Naruto’s face immediately lit up, causing Iruka to almost sigh in relief. If Ichiraku’s ramen would also have failed here, then he would’ve been in serious trouble. If they couldn’t console him, then almost nothing else could.

With two big bowls of their favourite type of ramen in front of them, Iruka decided to tackle the issue upfront.

“Okay, spill. What’s wrong?”

Naruto’s good mood was gone immediately. Iruka felt a chill going down his spine. He dreaded the words he was going to hear next. What horrible things could’ve happened to this sunshine? A lot of things, that Iruka knew. But whoever it was, there would be hell to pay. Iruka would make sure of it.

“I think I’m in love and I’m pretty sure he hates me. Or thinks that I’m stupid. Same thing. It’s pointless.”

Iruka had expected to hear a wide variety of things… but this? This he hadn’t seen coming.

“What makes you think that?”

“I wrote him, wanted to build a deeper connection, get to know him, become friends…”

“Sounds like a solid plan, what happened?”

“His only response was “Your handwriting is awful.”, that’s what happened.”

Iruka didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t deny that Naruto’s handwriting was awful, he had the “pleasure” of correcting various tests and homework sheets of him before but to get that told by your crush was just cruel. That guy was the worst.

“Forget about him. You deserve better than that.”

“Iruka-sensei… if it would be just as simple to forget someone you love as you make it sound… why are you still in love with Kakashi-sensei?”

This time Iruka had been eating his ramen and promptly started to choke on them. He really hated that observant and blunt version of Naruto. Before he could think of an answer, another blond entered the restaurant, drawing all attention onto them and successfully redirecting it from Iruka.

“There you are! Seriously, was it always that hard to find you in this stupidly huge village?!”

Iruka and Naruto exchanged confused looks before looking at Temari again.

“Why’re you looking for me, Temari-nee-san? I didn’t know a visit was scheduled anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well… it’s a long story… actually no - it’s not. Here.”

She pulled a scroll out of her bag and shoved it into Naruto’s hands.

“I accidentally sent Gaara’s response before he even really started to write it. He was really upset because of it, so I came to deliver the actual response personally. To minimise the risk of further mishaps. I sincerely apologize and hope you can forgive me.”

Temari finished her little speech with a deep bow which caused Naruto to look quickly assure her that it wasn’t necessary.

“Yes, it is. And you better tell Gaara that I did it too. He bullied me into doing it, quote “You better bow to him and apologize properly! No half-assing like you did with me.”, just so you know!”

Naruto was stunned. Gaara had gone through all this trouble? Just for him? But the sentence…

“You’re not gonna read what the Kazekage wrote you?”

Iruka’s gentle voice was cutting through the already downspiralling thoughts. He hastily ripped the seal and opened the scroll, almost damaging the thing in the process. He’d never been a fast reader, but right now he wished he could absorb the whole message at once. He was just too anxious to find out the truth to be patient.

[~Your handwriting is awful.

It took me quite some time to get fluent enough in your way of encrypting your letters so they can stay just between you and me and I apologize in advance that I can’t offer you the same in return.

Joke aside, I really loved to receive your letter and have to compliment you on this brilliant idea. The thought of getting letters from you on a regular basis, getting to know you and get insight into your daily life is filling me with profound joy to the intensity I cannot begin to describe. While my days are filled with almost the same tasks every day, I’m looking forward to hear about your missions and daily adventures.

I actually planned to just send you the letter I originally had intended to write (if it hadn’t been for Temari sending it way too early), but I can’t end it without apologizing. I’m sorry that you had to get such an unpleasant first response from me. I really hope you can forgive me and will send me lots of letters in the future. Otherwise I have to think of ways of making it up to you, because I can’t imagine not hearing from you ever again. You’re way too important to me already. You reaching out to me got my hopes up that the feeling’s mutual.

If you have some freetime in the future, we also can write about scheduling a meet up. You could come visit me in Suna. If you would want that, that is.

Please send your response with Temari, she will stay a few days in Konoha (probably with Shikamaru Nara, but don’t tell her I wrote that).

I’m looking forward to reading from you soon,

Gaara~]

~*~

This was the start of a wonderful friendship even if they just managed to converse via pretty frequent letters. Finding a way to meet up was pretty much impossible, with the world going to shit and all. Gaara was busier than ever and Naruto wasn’t fairing any better. Missions here, training there. New leads on Sasuke, leading to nowhere.

~*~

The 5-Kage-Summit was disheartening, but at least he managed to get a glimpse of his crush friend there. There wasn’t time to talk in private, exchange words that both felt deep in their hearts, but a shared look was enough to know that it could wait. The next letter would come. After everything was said and done there would be a time and place for them.

~*~

To say the war had been the most terrifying thing he’d seen in his life would be the understatement since the founding of the Hidden Villages. Maybe even longer than that. To fight with Naruto side by side was empowering, thrilling, made him want to rip every force that could hurt his beloved one to shreds, with the impression that he could do just that, but at the same time it was the worst. It made his stomach to funny flips, an anxious feeling spreading through his whole existence, to the very point he had to actively not let his sand show how he felt. It was scary. To see Naruto fight, run headfirst into enemies, hordes of them, without the slightest strategy or even the slightest hint of a plan. But so far it always had been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

~*~

Sleep was evading him as usual, but now they few hours he got were full of nightmares. The vision of Sakura, with her hand deeply buried in Naruto’s ribcage, trying to keep him alive, was one that had scarred him for life.

Currently Naruto was in Konoha Hospital, trying to recover from his injuries, from losing his arm. It took everything from Gaara to not immediately run there and be with him. He sighed. There was too much work. And now with Naruto unable to write even the letters came to a halt. It was like he’d vanished completely from his life, and it was the most terrifying feeling he’d ever encountered. Now, that they had grown that close, the thought of losing him was unbearable. It caused his blood to freeze inside his veins, his sand to slash around anxiously, resembling an angered cat’s tail. Apparently, his sand’s protection also applied to Naruto nowadays.

Gaara sighed. Being in love was complicated.

“What’s with that sigh, hm? Not like you to be glum like that.”

His sand reacted before his brain was capable of even trying to understand. It shot out and grabbed the intruder, but instead of hurting him, it brought him closer, right into Gaara’s embrace. His body had moved on its own, lifting his arms, catching and pressing him against his torso, never intending of letting him go.

Naruto let out his signature laugh, and it was the sweetest thing in Gaara’s opinion.

“Missed me, huh?”

“What- you… your arm… how?!”

Naruto firstly returned the hug, burying his head into the Kazekage’s neck, before explaining:

“Sakura did a wonderful job at healing all my wounds. They even managed to grow me a prosthetic arm. I can even do signs and cast jutsus with it!”

“How…?”

“I dunno… Sakura tried to explain, but-“

“No! I mean - how are you here? I’m sure you should rest! Not run 3 or more days all the way here! Did you even get permission to come here? I didn’t get any papers! Naruto, you cannot just-“

“Gaara, stop!”

Naruto’s laugh echoed through his office again, causing his heart to flutter happily. He liked hearing it. Never before had his office felt more like he belonged here than now. With Naruto in it. Right here, in his arms, by his side, in his life.

“I’m fine! I got permission. Temari-nee-san helped with surprising you. I also didn’t run all the way here.”

“But how…?”

“You remember the Yondaime being my father?”

Gaara nodded, dumbfounded. What had the Fourth Hokage to do with the fact that Naruto was here?

“You also may or may not know that he was known as the “Yellow Flash”. He was able to just appear out of nowhere. Because he was using a teleportation jutsu. And with me being his son… well…”

“You mastered the jutsu… to be able to visit me?”

“Of course! I mean… it probably has other uses, in battle or so… but it makes seeing you way eas-hmmh!”

His explanation got interrupted by a wonderful soft pair of lips that gently pressed themselves against his own. Too stunned to react, Naruto felt Gaara pull away before he could reciprocate the kiss. A horrified look was showing on the Kazekage’s face, fear visible within his turquoise eyes, mixed with regret and sadness. The sand immediately let go of him, as well as did Gaara, taking a step back too.

“I’m sorry, I misinterpreted, I-“

This time it was on Naruto to interrupt Gaara with a kiss.

“You didn’t misinterpret a single thing. I’m in love with you and learned a whole damn jutsu just to be able to see you.”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone ever did for me.”

“I aim to please.”

“That you really do. I do too by the way. Love you, I mean.”

A huge, way too bright smile erupted on Naruto’s face, but Gaara couldn’t care less. That was his boyfriend’s (?) face that tried to burn his retinas away after all.

“You wanna try to be in a relationship with me?”

“Whatever my beloved Kazekage wishes.”

“Let’s get married then.”

“Gaara!”

His favourite sound echoed through his office again. He needed to write the Hokage. He couldn’t go for too long without it after he got a taste.

Talking of taste…

Naruto’s laugh got swallowed by their kiss, which caused Gaara to smile into it as well. They held each other close and tried to melt into each other. To never get separated again.

“Expect my handwriting to be even worse now, with my new arm and everything.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me again.”

[lundenloves]

The way you write Simon is so utterly Simon, it makes everything feel so realistic.

The inner turmoil he has because he doesn’t show his emotions in a deemed "acceptable" way i.e crying or voicing his feelings. That his first instinct is to pull away, detaching himself from the situation (to protect himself from being hurt). For outsiders it seems like he’s cold or doesn’t care for his wife, but that’s not the case, he just doesn’t know how. Simon isn't a man of words and therefore shows his support/love through actions, but simple actions like holding every door open for her after devastating news is not enough and Simon knows that (making him even more paralyzed because he knows he’s lacking). He shows his love to his wife and how important she is to him and his willingness to change by working against his instincts and trying to console her by not running away, opening up to her (e.g"i can’t“), embracing her (and realizing that a little goes a long way, e.g"anything") and (and that is just my interpretation) him apologizing has three messages 1. "I‘m sorry“ that we’re in this situation, that you have to go through this 2. I‘m sorry that I’m not 100% able to give you what you need right now 3. his apology is a silent promise to work this through with her and therefore also work on himself

I don’t know if this coherent but anyways.

What I’m trying to say is: I really love how you write Simon and I really love your works

i don’t have enough words to say thank you.

every single thing you’ve put on this is one hundred percent coherent and incredibly kind to say it’ll tell you why.

because you’ve went right into my head too.

i primarily write ‘flawed’ characters for this reason, their mindset is like a puzzle. there’s so much more to gain from writing someone like this, not just skill or emotional intellect but also validation. it’s validating your own feelings to find a character like this and run with them, coming from someone who too distances and doesn’t know how to give out warmth.

so, his own first instincts being to distance himself is a given. this is the physical manifestation of childhood trauma coming into place — he was never taught how to feel emotion and healthily express it therefore it stays unresolved in his head with minor physical signs. (the nail biting, leg bouncing etc) though, you get a feel for the person he is by the instinctive holding of doors and taking her bag. not the person he is trying to be, but the person he is.

the part where you mentioned ‘i’m sorry’ has three meanings hits the nail on the fucking head.

i wrote it and was getting all in my head trying to find a way to communicate exactly that. it’s a weighted apology, one that ticks each box you laid down and i’ve never been so happy that someone has caught onto something in my life.

he’s complex, and has a fine line. one that i don’t see too many writers nailing to the depth i like to read, for a number of reasons but we won’t get into that. it isn’t as simple as, he can’t cry vs he doesn’t want to cry. there’s something much deeper there. which seems obvious, but it’s a question of how to tackle it to the right prompt that a lot of people confuse.

he’s obviously different on field vs home. which is another thing i have a field day writing, the whole fiasco of difference between ghost and simon that a few people have written. i’m currently writing a therapy fic for him, something that’s taking a while because i’m too detail focused.

but god, anon, i hope i hear from you more often. people like you are the ones i write for.

i hope this makes sense 🥲

thank you x

[kloppinthekop]

Hi Amy!🥰

🍄🦋🪲 - for the ask game

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Okay, the latest thing that popped into my head for Domitrent is that… surprisingly Domi is often quite shy in the bedroom? Or maybe “shy” isn’t the right word but… coquettish, perhaps. Like, he knows what he wants and he is going to get what he wants, but sometimes he’ll play it off like he’s just waiting for Trent to dictate the play (so to speak). A lot of bashful glances, maybe hiding his face in Trent’s neck—or even outside of the bedroom, burrowing his face into Trent’s hoodie when they are sitting on the couch or whatever. I think it would be his way of getting more affection, especially out of someone more stoic like Trent. If he acts all shy and almost a little submissive, it forces Trent to take on a more dominant role, and therefore Domi will get more love and affection than if he took control the whole time.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I very often get obsessed about a certain thing—whether it’s a ship, or a music artist or album, or a particular painting, etc.—but when it comes to people I find it very hard to connect on a deep level? Like it’s weird because I can connect so very deeply to an idea I have about some stranger, some random footballer whom I will never ever meet, and like I’ll twist my brain in circles trying to delve into their perceived psyche or horoscope and such… but then there’s some kind of disconnect with IRL humans. I think maybe it’s because I’m afraid to let other people know too much about me, so it makes it harder to then learn things about them too. I am very not good at being vulnerable, because it is very scary. I’m trying to be better about it and like actually chat more freely with people, but I am 100% not a natural at it!

(Also I think I’ve been trying to work this out in fic form lately, this theme of not being able to communicate one’s inner feelings, especially in my most recent chapter of Dream Come True…)

Anyways, sorry to get all heavy/psychosocial on main lol 🤷🏻‍♀️

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

“Some time between all the talking and the touching, Jarell thinks he’s only gone and fallen in love with the man. Was it inevitable? Maybe. Ill-advised? Quite possibly. But more and more often Jarell finds himself staring at Virgil, wondering what it would be like to have his hands on him in another situation, to be talked through something more than just team tactics and positions on the field…”

Wheeeee- thanks Meb! 💕🫶