#im making progress on requests

[midnight-mourning]

Siren's Curse (Of Bad Luck)

🐟🐟Midnight's DCA MerMay Day 13🐟🐟

this one was a treat bc i got to include pirates and i think you all know how much i enjoy pirates, also just a silly treat overall, enjoy!

Prompt: Hiiii Midnight!! :) For my request, Siren Reader trying to lure the boys to their death, but reader is really really bad at it. In their failure the three become really close. I want reader to be mad about it for a while too that they don't find them 'scary' after a while. The boys can be mers or human, does not matter.

DCFPU prompt used: Pirates

Word Count: 2214

will be posted to ao3 later this evening

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

The waves around you lap lightly across your tail and against the rock upon which you sit. The moonlight above peeks through the clouds in streaks. It's serene, soothing, would lull you to sleep if you didn't know better. Because moment's like these usually don't last. 

And much to your total surprise, it doesn't. 

Out in the distance, a ship slinks across the horizon towards you. Even from here you can make out the chatter of its crew, the creaks and groans of the ship as it rocks against the waves. You sense the nervous energy which winds around each person aboard like a vice. Feel the nervous beats of their tender little hearts. Almost taste their fear. Good. As they should be. It makes things that much easier for you. 

You've got a bit of an excited thrill in you yourself. This is what you were waiting on. The night would have—admittedly—been boring without someone showing up with the hopes of trying to pass you. And some of your most fun was being able to lull them into a false sense of security before ultimately—well, you're getting ahead of yourself. 

Unable to wait, you dive down into the water below practically without a sound. You swim with ease over to the ship, popping up next to the hull. Now much closer, you can make out the distinct mutterings and mumblings of the crew. All worried about sirens and curses and more. All of it relating back to you. 

You want to give them a little scare. Really rattle them before the main event. You open your palm then drag your claws against the wooden hull, the loud, abrupt scratching sound it makes all but halts the conversation above. You muffle your own snickering. You wait a minute or so, until they've started talking just a little more again, then start to hum. 

At this, they delve into harsh whispers, someone shouts 'Siren! It's a siren!' before they're hushed. Enough's enough, you've had your fun, so you shift from humming to singing. 

You've done this so many times now it's easy, though by nature your song comes to you without effort. It rolls off your tongue as smooth as the finest of silks, soft as the breeze and gentle as the sea on a calm day. You sing with passion, you sing of desire, and you sing for those who need it. 

As you sing you slowly work your way up the side of the ship, clinging to the wood and ropes as you go. You'll try to pluck off which ones you can that are within your reach, that should give the rest enough of a hint to leave and never come back. 

You've made it up the edge, spying an entranced sailor right within your reach. You shift your song to be more directed at him, hand outstretching lovingly. You're about to take hold of him, drag him down with you—only for cold iron to be pressed to the side of your temple, followed by a click. 

You waver, startled, but still keep your song up, perhaps it's someone who's got a bit of cotton in their ears, trying to resist. No matter, they'll succumb soon enough. 

But your voice practically dies in your throat upon seeing who—or what, rather—is pointing a weapon at you.

A person who wears the clothes of a man but looks nothing like it. With skin the color of the sun and shiny metal in his exposed joints. There's no hair on his head, which is instead surrounded by large orange triangles—which are pierced with small rings, again like the rays of the sun. A hat sits upon his head, and with the rest of his dress you surmise he's likely the captain. Nothing like any captain you've ever seen.

He's not human, that's for sure. 

Nor is the other man—other... captain...?—that appears from behind him. 

You can only stare in amazement, confusion, and slight irritation at the two of them. Suddenly unable to muster your song. The remaining crew is still very much dazed, and would remain so for at least a little while. 

The one with the gun clears his throat. "Not very polite to come aboard a sailor's ship without permission, Little Fish."

You swallow, still trying to keep your words honeyed beneath your reply. 

"Not polite to point a gun at someone for doing so."

You hear a few clicks, they're coming from his head, you realize. "Trespassing."

You glance up to the black flag waving from the mast. "You're pirates."

"Even worse, then." He tsks.

"If I'm trespassing on your ship, you're trespassing in my waters."

Head tilt. "You own the sea?"

"Something like that. This bit of it anyway." You press your temple more against the gun, annoyed. 

"Perhaps you'd be interested in sharing?"

"Not really—"

The other man—who had a blue and white face with inhuman red eyes—suddenly steps forward, trying to take the pistol. "This is a waste of time, I'll handle this if you won't."

You suddenly begin singing again then, and still to your dismay there's no effect on either of them, but the others on board are still pulled under your song, and using this to your advantage are able to create a distraction that allows you to dive back down into the water below. 

When you emerge again a bit further away—and hopefully out of range—you look back to the ship, where the two from before now stand clutching the railing. 

"I'll consider this a mishap and let you live for now, but next time, don't count on being so lucky." You grin, diving under the waves though in reality, you're both frustrated and baffled. 

It must have just been a fluke. An odd happenstance. Those occur sometimes, right?

Right?

As you would come to find out, apparently that odd happenstance was a common happenstance. But one that only occured with those two in particular. 

Captain Sun and Captain Moon—as you'd come to learn—were entirely unaffected by your singing. Worryingly so. No, confoundedly annoyingly so. 

They would appear every couple of weeks, always trying to get past you and always failing. But not because they were enthralled by you, no it was only their crew that was affected by you. Which made this whole ordeal that much worse for you. You couldn't scare them off for long no matter what you did! The pirate ship continuing to blemish your waters like an ugly thorn in your side. 

But while that was utterly annoying, the part that bothered you the most specifically was that no matter how much you sang, how well you sang, or what song you used, it did absolutely nothing to them. They always told you it was because of what they were—automatons and not human beings—but you refused to accept that.

They seemed to find it amusing even, your efforts that is. Which only fueled your frustration and almost led to them succeeding one day. Too baffled and embarrassed that you practically croaked out several times before you could reorganize yourself. 

Though you admit, you think part of it may just simply be... fluster on your part. In the months since your first encounter, they've made conversation with you, starting brief, but growing longer with each passing visit. You think to them it’s almost a bit of a game. To you it’s... something else. 

The feeling's quite unfamiliar to you and you certainly don't like it. The way your heart sometimes flutters when Sun banters with you, or when Moon threatens you, no longer with the animosity he once held. How you can't seem to take your eyes off them with every added visit. Coupled with your inability to get them under your spell it all makes you angry. 

Angry at yourself, and certainly angry at them. 

Such anger simmers under the surface with this latest visit of theirs. They skip the formalities, as they have the past few times. Instead anchoring their ship further away and using a long boat to meet you in your usual spot. Just the two of them, of course. Rub it in even more that you have no effect on them. 

"Afternoon, Little Fish," Sun calls out to you as they approach. 

You spare him a brief wave, busy sharpening your claws against the rock. "Captain Sun, Captain Moon."

"Formal today aren't you?" Moon chides. "Is something the matter, Star?"

"Perhaps they're upset it's been so long since our last visit. Got bored out of their mind without us to pester them," Sun snickers. 

"The gift we have might lighten their mood then. Maybe they'll even let us pass."

"Now that's wishful thinking." 

At that they both laugh. It only serves to make your anger flare further. 

Your claws scrape against the rock, agitated, but collected. "I have no need for gifts. Nor the desire for them." You go so far as to turn away from them once they reach you, feeling hurt at the confirmation that you're just an obstacle to them. 

There's quiet behind you, only the sound of shifting mechanisms that you once found intriguing, alluring even. Now they only serve to remind you that you're no equal to them. 

The hand on your shoulder instinctively makes you want to turn and fight. The closeness unfamiliar, frightening. You resist, however, out of something called 'common courtesy' as Sun once described it. 

"Have we upset you?" Moon asks, tone now concerned. 

Another hand, this one clasping yours in your lap. "We're terribly sorry if that's the case."

This closeness, the false worry in their words, it strikes deep in your heart. Deeper than even the wound of your inability to charm them. 

"Do you know the reason why I won't allow you safe passage through here?" you ask them, soft.

Sun's chin rests on your shoulder. "Because you find it amusing?"

"Because we're pirates and you find that morally abhorrent?"

"It's because it's my home." You sigh, eyes trained on the waters in front of you. "And it's my duty to protect it for those who can't. To keep them safe. I sing for me, and my own entertainment, yes, to a point. But I also do it for them."

"Why are you telling us this?"

You turn to Moon, bitterness written across your face. "Because I'm making it clear to you that no amount of anything will get me to change my mind about letting you through. So, toy with my feelings all you like, but it won't make a lick of difference."

"Toy with your—Little Fish, is that really what you think?" Sun raises his hand from your shoulder, reaching up to turn you to face him. 

You swallow. "Of course it is. You've made it abundantly clear all you see me as is someone in your way. Not to mention how you've wounded my pride with your inhuman ability to resist my song."

"Well to our credit we're not human—" You hear metal hit metal behind you, and Sun flinches. "But that's beside the point. I apologize on both our behalves that you feel that way, Love. Because it's far from the truth I assure you."

Moon moves closer, gentle, unlike him. "We initially intended to slip by you, yes. But that was before we met you, got to know you. Began to care for you."

"Do you think if we were just using you we'd keep coming back?" Sun raises your hand to his face, pressing a kiss to it. "Do you think we'd be this close with you, so open?"

"Isn't this what normal humans or automatons do between friends?" you ask bluntly. 

They both seem to freeze for a moment, sharing a glance. Then, they start to snicker, before bursting with laughter. 

You feel your face heat up, Sun speaking to you between fits of hysterics. 

"Not-not in the slightest, Little Fish. I would never hold, kiss, or cherish someone I didn't adamantly love. I doubt Moon would either."

"I have no frame of reference, how was I supposed to know!" you bluster.

Both captains continue to laugh at your expense, while you continue to process what they've said. 

Again, your face feels warm. "So, all this time you've been... courting me? And I didn't even know?" Your hands come up to your face, groaning.

Moon snickers, arms wrapping around you. "You were too busy trying to lure us to our deaths." 

"Which, perhaps you'd have better luck with if you didn't have to contend against these." Sun reaches into his shirt and pulls out a chain with a bright green gem on the end. It reflects the light of the day intensely, so sparkly it burns. 

It takes you a moment, but then it clicks. You gape, expression souring. 

"That's cheating!" Despite the confirmation of your shared feelings just seconds ago you now have the desire to throttle the both of them.

Still, in the laughter you now share with each other, you feel a sense of peace, of completeness, that you'd never experienced before. You relish in it. 

And in getting to snatch up those pretty amulets they're wearing just to prove a point. 

Though, you've suddenly lost the voice to sing. 

What a pity.

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

Thank you for the request @fishm0ther!! as i said very much had fun with it and i'm content with how it turned out ^^ thanks for reading!!

Masterlist post is here

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@machopeach @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzy-bee @hazelthebat @nightriverart @mr-munchies @sun-and-moon-fun

[cosmic-c-kiddo]

Been getting into Dhmis lately so here's a red cg board.

[tealfruit]

another day another dealing with management scrambling about their own poor decisions and supply chain/budget issues even tho I'm really fucking not paid enough for all that

[diodellet]

So many good options for the art appreciation asks but let's go with 3, 4, 13, 14 and 27.

hi hi ner! thanks forda qs!! these are all prettie incharestinge!! (<-girlie who didn't know she'd be Yapping-Yapping)

3. and 4.) Go to [fandom] tag and reblog some art you like that has under 100 notes ++ Go to the art tag (or similar) and reblog some art you like that has under 100 notes

noted, i will undertake this mission with great care 🫡🫡

13. What are your go-to Ao3 filters?

ok i have a confession, i used to be a sort by word count++completed works only++exclude crossovers-kinda person 🤧🤧ANYWAY that was changed, now i only really exclude chat fics (ahaha,,,,theyre not really my go-to genre, like sure they're amusing but i read a really good one once* and it ruined every other chatfic for me)

*this one's for u haikyuu-natics, esp team captain stannies

hm.... i'm not super-duper picky so most of the time i can just scroll through each work's summary and tags.

but if a fandom is popular (or if i dont have the spoons for sifting through works), i stick to just reader inserts HAHAHA, maybe oc x canon if there haven't been any new x reader fics and if there's rlly nothing oough ig i have to write her myself 😭😭 sometimes doe, the curiosity strikes and i'll try looking if there are any fanfics in filipino... i really find it interesting to see how a chara's dialogue reads if theyre speaking in tagalog (tbh i think one would have more luck finding filo socmed aus on twt? but i only know about haikyuu socmed aus)

14. Best fanfic tropes ever?

oH...there are too many... u can't make me choose the best out of all my faves that's unfair 🥺jk lol

i read* this jamikali fic (i like my ships with a bit [read: a LOT] of tragedy/disaster-ness to them. it's so so so compelling to read!) and i just love the "Dubiously Unrequited Love" tag. bcs yes, the feelings are technically mutual, but there is a whole slew of other factors keeping the relationship from being a thing, which it could be a thing, but there's also that awareness that it won't last, sometimes a couple doesn't have to be endgame for the love to mean something, ykw?

this entire oneshot series....has me in a chokehold... my introduction to "Non-Sexual Intimacy" (and "Non-Sexual Nudity" i guess?) like??? holy shit??? the tension?? the way op just encapsulates the poignancy of being in such a vulnerable position without teetering too much into the cliche of roëmænce it has me On My Knees!! (like i love my smut and romance cliches, but some days i jus want a liiiitle bit more spice and variety)

Shoutout to the "Unreliable Narrator"++"Ambiguous Ending" combi that reaaaaally makes you work for understanding the plot, idk how to word it but being able to leave Just Enough Breadcrumbs and having enough trust in your readers to Get what ur implying, also forcing me to reread the fic immediately is so foul (in a good way). like there's an enjoyment in a good satisfying read, and then there's the Itch of never being sure in your interpretation, the feeling that u just need to go over it another time, spot another detail u missed, get wrecked all over again, rinse and repeat. idk i love fic.

27. If someone wanted to make you a creative gift, what's the thing that would make you the happiest?

oh anything featuring my fave charas is sure to make me happy! i mean i'm just not super picky abt gifts. well, maybe a creative gift has to be smth that can last a long while? (a strong hoard-ability kaya idk im senti??)

as long as the thought and intent was there, i'm already happy enough🥰💕💕 but i guess in the context of getting fic gifted to you, probably what matters most to me is that the writer enjoyed the process of making it as well. (i'm kinda drawing off of my experience writing this fic for one of m'oomfies and the vdays drabbles*** so i could be just rambling who knows?**)

(art appreciation ask questions, please bug me to rb some underrated art and fic)

[loveackermannn]

finally getting somewhere with this ask from my 1k event !!!!! :,)))

i actually might make this into an assassin!levi trope..... it's definitely going in that direction.

[lunarw0rks]

the temptation to clean out my inbox rn....

[kellystar321]

.

[bright-and-burning]

new message from student loan servicer… how do we think the federal government has fucked me today?

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

finally going to conquer my inability to draw eyes by doing quick little studies of my favourite artist's drawings on a banking receipt

[kyoukorpse]

finished designing Jakub's TOWW (ive been calling her Melinoe) and mapped out his scars/gave him more piercings. plus bonus art i did of them while i was mulling over their relationship togetherrrr

lore drop below !!!!!

im still mulling over some details but essentially Melinoe was locked up in her own purgatory by her siblings for the fact that she was ready to impede any progress they wiling to pursue to ensure they did not lose faith from their followers and stayed relevant in a continuously shifting and changing world. she wanted things to stay the same, selfishly, knowing that she would never have to worry about her place in the world as she was always a constant.

when Jakub finds her she's willing to give his life back purely for the fact she did not anticipate such a fate would befall his kind by the hands of her paranoid siblings. She thought better of them, but clearly could see now that they had been slowly losing their minds. She offered to work with him and gave him her crown to use so long as he agreed to help her as well, willing to work together.

Jakub agreed simply for the gain of such power and when he did she simply asked that he never relay to her any details of what he might have to do to relinquish controls of her chains from her siblings. He would never truly honor this request, as he wanted to see her squirm. wanted to see if he could make a long standing god flinch.

Their relationship remained a tense one, she had no ill will towards Jakub and took pity on him because in the end she knew she'd need to ask more from him to truly be free, and he saw her as foolish and a just another fracturing remnant of the old faith he wanted to see truly wiped out of existence. He had always desired to simply kill off her siblings and then her as well. He had no desire to continue working with her once the crown was truly his to claim.

in the end she told him if she were to be free she'd need more from him and his followers, and he declined. She did not fight him out of anger or the feeling of betrayal, but what she finally saw as self defense, knowing full well that Jakub had no intention of truly helping her. He brought her down to her knees and ended her life, fully satisfied that he was doing what was right in his pursuit of ridding the world of the old faith and pursuing his own godhood in the wake of a new era.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙸𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚢?

You're an actor and you finally got your big role in a hit TV show. Unfortunately your character only made it to Season 2 before they killed you off. This is how I imagine the lads men react to watching that scene [Requested by: Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

calm cool and collected on the outside; whole time he's really having an internal breakdown

grips your hand a little tighter in his as the scene progresses

“are you dying? is this a tragedy?”

is very aware that it’s just a show, but can’t stop his heart from pounding at the thought of losing you

rubs his eyes to keep himself from tearing up

stares at you after the episode ends “What?” “The thought of losing you has always terrified me; watching you perform that scene does not help” “it’s my job Zayne besides im right here”

finds himself staring at you more often just trying to commit every feature of yours to memory

never willingly watches that episode again

skips over that part every time or just turns the show off “You still can’t watch it?” “No”

praises you for the phenomenal performance although he claims it was a little too realistic

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

is great at slipping in and out of character so he was the one helping you with your acting skills

sits up straight when he realizes what's happening “is this the scene you've been keeping secret?”

falls out immediately in your lap

bawling his eyes out goes as far to curl up in your lap

would be so proud of not only you, but himself as well for helping you perfect your craft

“Do I get credit as the acting coach?” “Yes would you like a reward?” “You know I do”

Although he’s proud of you he can’t bring himself to watch the episode again also doesn't continue watching the show in general "they killed off my favorite character how can I continue watching it now?"

keeps pushing you to work on crying on command so if you need to cry for your next roll it’s even better

acted out the scene with you at home for fun once and had a mental breakdown

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

Fell asleep in the middle of the show and missed it

“just watch it when you get a chance” “no replay it”

immediately turns the show off in the middle of the scene

“im not watching this” “Xav…” “No”

drills you with questions about why you didn’t tell him you were dying in that episode

“I can’t watch that don’t make me watch it” "You're being a little dramatic don't you think?"

pouts, pouts, and pouts some more

won’t watch it no matter how much you beg

although he never finished watching the whole scene he holds your hand tighter now these days

asks for a warning next time so he can prepare himself …… to fast forward

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

watches quietly giving away nothing

“You even shed a few tears for your own scene?” teases you for crying at your own death scene “it looks different after the editing okay!”

won't admit it, but one time was enough

“it made you sad didn’t it?” “Well I don’t take pleasure in watching you die onscreen sweetie” “im alive though” “Let's keep it that way”

weasels his way out of watching the scene again

his voice slightly wavers whenever you bring it up

avoids eye contact when you tease him about it

held you tighter at night for at least a month

Bonus: the twins bawled their eyes out and tackled you to the ground with a bone crushing hug

[urstruly-ghst]

girl, get up ! - riddle, leona, vil, silver

in which u suck at phys ed and they're trying to help you out

requested ask !

author's note: i am not physically fit as i like, but dw!! we all have our moments 😌 now get up and be that slay queen (or start low impact exercises for now!)

riddle rosehearts

riddle rosehearts is a well rounded individual, he was raised in a household were meals calculated and regimes strictly adhered. if you think riddle is strict with his exercising, you would be surprised. riddle was someone who was not the most adept to exercising, and understands you wanting to take it at your pace. but don't think you're getting away with it.

fret not! riddle takes things slow, and in accordance with the rules of the queen of hearts, taking note of your weaknesses and strengths. he even rewards you at the end, each small victory was worth a party.

if your goal was to hit 5 pushups or rounds of burpees, he'd set it to 10. harsh, however, he claims if you settle for less you get less. riddle wants you to aim high (and he would even join in on your physical journey!)

"i think im gonna be sick" you yelp and try to not pass out at your 4th day of attempting to do sets of squats and this exercise.

"you're doing fine, rose." riddle said smiling before observing your notions. despite your protests, you did well. your initial goal of just 5 laps around the oval became 6! it was a small improvement, but you managed to do it.

"after this, we can relax and enjoy some new tarts trey baked." riddle smile warmly as he jogged next to you, noticing you brighten up

leona kingscholar

leona laughed at you first. born with athletic capabilities, he couldn't believe you can't do a simple push up or run down at least 5 laps. however, he wasn't one to keep someone down, leona wants a fair fight.

it starts off simple, leona would observe you and see it as you not pushing yourself. leona would be behind you, motivating you (odd to see him out of bed), making sure you're in the right position and actually getting your goal. you need 30 push ups for vargas? you're doing those 30 push ups... with his help.

lends a lot of his time or some trainer to help you. though, don't expect he'd be doing this often, he still likes his nap times you know? you can do exercises after the nap!

"mmh. herbivore. you're quite close to running more than yesterday" leona mumbled walking beside you as you jogged. his long strides make your jog a walk for him. he admired you before patting your head

"yeah because you literally pushed me!" you retort but he smiled and followed you to the end of the track, marking your newfound success: running 500 meters!

"good job, herbivore... now let's go rest, you ended exactly on my nap time."

vil schoenheit

vil wasn't going to make you be a lazy potato. he can see the potential and determination from you. he is the most hands-on out of all, he tracks it closely and adheres everything to his own personal trainer.

each move you both do comes from professional advise and vil does the same exercises as you (although with bit more intensity on his end). the meals afterwards were also a highlight. vil prepared the after meals himself, go on, eat up!

he's more strict. vil won't take no willy nilly answer, and he won't allow slip ups. vil is a very determined person, once he sees a diamond that needs polishing, he'll handcraft it with time and effort. vil showers each progress you've done with praise and small personal victories he records and keeps hidden for him to admire.

"ah, my dear, look at that. another stellar news, you've managed to hit the goal in record time." vil rejoices as you both finished the prescribed exercises from his trainer. you beamed and smiled proudly

"all thanks to you, vil!" you praise him but he smiled and shakes his head.

"no, all you, dear. you pushed your limits and got us both here."

silver

silver is a trained knight, he was no stranger to the regime of ruthless training. however, he does know that reaching goals is hard. he had his fair share of failures of reaching certain goals with his habit of sleeping. though, silver is still strict and maintains that if you want to be active, push through it

he would share his regime at a lighter level and even trains you himself, silver guides you gently and even makes you disregard your goal so he ensures you're not in a hurry and get hurt. though, that was because his regime had quite some brutal exercises.

and sometimes, he'd pull in sebek or lilia for some regime tweaking so he can sneak more time to help you be more active. though it was difficult sometimes, silver can't help but feel sleepy sometimes when he trains you...

"okay, your footing isn't that great. it lacks some..." silver yawned as he gracefully guides you into holding a baton firmly. you were sweating as the faux fighting with the baton proved to be more difficult. it was awesome though, you get to see him wield such grace!

"silver, we need a break" you huff tired. silver smiled before shaking his head, even if he was sleepy, he wasn't allowing you be trained half-assed.

"nope. now, parry"

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Two Hands pt. I

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: tensionnn and Im making this a two part series

Part 2 Sports Car

The sun was barely peeking over the Hollywood skyline when Y/n arrived on set, coffee in hand and a spark of excitement in her step. The concept for her and Tate McRae’s new music video, Two Hands, had come together beautifully, sleek visuals, a sultry tone, and a storyline that mirrored the tension in their song. Y/n adjusted the strap of her dress as she walked onto the music video set, the sound of crew members shouting instructions filling the air. Tate McRae was standing off to the side, scrolling through her phone. She looked up and waved, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. "Hey, you made it!" Tate greeted as Y/n approached.

"Yeah, traffic was insane, but I'm here." Y/n replied, setting her bag down on a nearby chair. "What's the plan for today?" Before Tate could answer, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Y/n?" Her heart dropped as she turned around to see him. And there he stood, hands casually tucked into his hoodie pockets, his signature grin plastered on his face.

Lando fucking Norris.

Her breath hitched at the sight of him, his familiar mischievous grin lighting up as he looked her up and down. "It’s been a while." He said, striding toward her. Y/n froze, coffee nearly slipping from her grip as her mind flashing back to the string of nights they’d spent together during last season. Miami. Montreal. Silverstone. Austin. Vegas. Each memory was vivid and unshakable, and now here he was, standing on the set of her music video like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Uh, yeah, it has." She replied, attempting nonchalance.

Tate, always attuned to Y/n’s moods, sidled up beside her. "Y/n? You good?" She whispered. "Can we- can you come with me real quick?" Y/n asked, dragging Tate along to the other side of the parking lot. "Dude. What’s wrong?" Tate asked. "What's wrong?" Y/n hissed back. "What’s wrong is that Lando Norris is here, and I wasn’t told he’d be in this video." Tate smirked. "He’s the cameo. PR gold. You didn’t know?"

"No!" Y/n exclaimed under her breath. "And, oh my god- jesus- Tate, we’ve slept together!" Tate’s eyes widened before her lips curled into a sly grin. "Oh my god! Like a one might stand sorta thing?" She chuckled. "More like five seperate nights." Tate raised an eyebrow. "Five? Wow, okay, overachiever."

"This isn’t funny." Y/n groaned. "What are we supposed to do now?" Tate sighed. "It’s a little late to change things. He’s already here. Besides, we’ll just cut his scenes later if it’s too weird. PR can spin some excuse for why he’s missing in the final cut." Y/n groaned but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But if this blows up, you owe me."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The shoot began smoothly enough. The video was set to showcase Tate and Y/n doing what they do best; giving their fans an iconic music video, with a storyline involving sleek cars, night drives, and bold choreography. Lando's role was to add a touch of glamour as a cameo, driving a papaya McLaren around the streets at night.

The day progressed faster than Y/n anticipated. Tate was her usual cheeky self, keeping the mood light despite the awkward tension simmering whenever Lando was around. The big moment came as the crew prepped the McLaren for a scene where Y/n would ride in the passenger seat while Lando drove through neon-lit streets. "Just lipsync the lyrics while he drives." The director instructed. "We’re going for sexy but understated." Understated. Sure. Y/n climbed into the car, her heart pounding.

The beat thumped in her ears as the car accelerated. She turned to Lando, his hands confidently gripping the steering wheel. His smirk was still there, but something new flickered in his gaze as her lips curled into the sultry line: "I want them all to see, you look good on top of me." Lando’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting to hers as she sang. "At this time, at night I need. Not one, not three." Y/n caught the way his lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, and then, he bit his lip.

Oh, so we’re doing this?

Fine. If he was flustered, she’d make it worth his discomfort. Y/n leaned in, her hand sliding up to tangle in his hair as she pulled his face toward her. Their eyes locked, her lips barely brushing his ear as she whispered the lyrics. "Just your two hands on me. Like my life needs saving." His breath hitched audibly, and for a split second, she wondered if he might slam on the brakes. "Let 'em all know. Can you do it like that?"

"Cut!" The director’s voice crackled through the radio. They broke apart instantly, and the silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided his gaze, fixing her hair and pretending nothing had happened. When she returned to set for the dance break, Tate was waiting with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk. "You two looked awfully comfortable." Tate teased, bumping Y/n’s shoulder. "Almost like you’ve done it before."

Y/n shot her a withering glare. "Shut up."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The buzz of the set hummed around Y/n as she sat on the sidelines, watching Tate film her solo dance scene. The spotlight followed Tate’s movements, her fluidity captivating, but Y/n’s focus wavered when she caught a glimpse of Lando approaching out of the corner of her eye.

Damn it.

"Fancy seeing you here." Lando said, casually sliding into the chair beside her. His voice was light, but his eyes held an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "It’s not like I had a choice." Y/n replied flatly, crossing her arms. "I have a job to do and you just so happen to be here." He chuckled softly, the sound low and familiar. "Still, feels like fate."

"More like bad luck." She shot back, keeping her tone cool even as her stomach fluttered. Lando leaned in slightly, his cologne teasing her senses. "You’re as sharp as ever." He murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. "I missed you." Y/n snorted, more out of defense than amusement. "Missed me? Please. You missed me in your bed, maybe." His grin faltered, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. "To be fair, you never gave me the chance to miss you anywhere else."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to look at him, his face so close she could see the faint stubble on his jaw. He wasn’t joking. "Look, I know this is...complicated. But I want to see you. Away from all this; no racing, no music videos, just us." Y/n blinked, stunned. Her lips parted to respond, but before she could form the words, Sean, the choreographer, clapped his hands loudly from across the set. "Y/n! Let’s go! Dance break!" She exhaled sharply, grateful for the reprieve, and turned on her heel. "Duty calls." She said briskly, walking away before Lando could reply.

As she approached the center of the set, Tate intercepted her, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"I’m fine." Y/n lied, waving a dismissive hand. Tate’s smirk told her she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gestured toward the floor. "Alright, let’s get this over with. Sean’s in full perfectionist mode." Y/n nodded, forcing herself to focus as Sean began shouting instructions, his energy bouncing around the room. She positioned herself in front of the camera, her muscles tightening in anticipation.

The music started, the beat pounding through her body, and she threw herself into the choreography, letting the rhythm drown out the lingering tension in her chest. But as her feet moved and her body swayed, her mind betrayed her, replaying Lando’s words over and over like a melody she couldn’t shake.

Just us

[hivemuthur]

Eee sorry about the vague request lol. I'm thinking maybe reader is unknowingly giving someone else a lil too much attention at a house party or something like that and Vik gets jealous and pouty about it and reader makes it up to him 👀👀

Clearly im not great at wording requests lol, I hope this makes sense

<3

Hi! I love you, so after I've written the first part of smut for this, I went to pray to the smut fairy and she gave me more smut :v @rennethen we thank you, we bow to you. And yes, there is no other point to this story than smut, because we had a lot of emotional stuff happening on this blog in the last couple of days :')

Eat Me

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! Viktor is jealous, therefore: smut, also dom!Viktor

word count: 3,3K

—

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” you laughed sheepishly at—what was his name again? Mark? Maurice? Never mind, you politely laughed at his joke. Somewhere in the middle of this conversation, you had felt Viktor’s hand slip off the small of your back as he walked away to have a chat with Jayce. You could swear you heard a sigh accompanying the action, but the number of people talking at you simultaneously was too great to stir your mind to focus on one thing.

You looked around the room; the party had visibly dispersed into small groups— a few people splayed on the floor, talking in hushed voices; a smoking gang squished on the small balcony; a not-very-promising-looking queue to the bathroom; very loud voices coming from the kitchen, where some groundbreaking conversations were definitely taking place. Exactly opposite you and Mark—or Maurice—Viktor stood leaning on the doorframe, a glass hanging limply from his hand. He seemed very determined not to glance in your direction, no matter how many smiles you tried to send him.

You remained unalarmed until it was Mark’s—or Maurice’s—hand travelling to the small of your back, his mouth closing in on your ear to whisper, “So… can I get your number?”

At that point, Viktor scoffed and retreated into the corridor, out of your sight. You shifted uncomfortably, sliding yourself away from the intruder’s touch, and squeaked, “Eh, sorry, I don’t think… I don’t think my boyfriend would be happy about it, you know?”

Mark—or Maurice—raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, saying, “Forgive me, I didn’t know. Enjoy the party.” He patted you on the shoulder, his touch immediately shifting from seductive to friendly, his eyes moving from your cleavage to your face, and began snaking deeper into the room, leaving you alone and a little stunned by the windowsill. Huh, that obvious.

You downed your drink and left the glass behind, ready to find the lost boyfriend. You searched Jayce’s cramped apartment room by room, people trying to pull you in for a drink occasionally slowing your progress. Jayce, already moderately drunk and flushed from all the hands invading his personal space, pointed you toward his study. The door was ajar, and a faint glimmer of light was coming from inside.

“Hello?” You peeked your head through the door, only to see Viktor slumped behind Jayce’s desk, engrossed in a book. He didn’t look up at you and only threw you a dry, “Hello,” in return.

“Tired of the crowd, hmm?” you hummed after slipping inside and leaning over the desk opposite him. Your fingers tapped on the wood, awaiting a reply, only to be given the cold shoulder in the form of a quiet, dismissive hum. “Well, do you want to go home?” you tried again, inching your fingers to sneak under his sleeves, and Viktor shuddered.

“Home? No, I am quite content where I am. Also—” he paused as his eyes landed on your hands before retreating further into the chair to avoid your touch. “You seemed quite content with where you were as well,” he retorted, flipping to the next page.

“I’m not sure I quite follow?” You gave him a puzzled look, hoping he saw at least a glimpse of it from the corner of his eye. “Viktor?” you asked, splaying yourself all the way across the desk to pluck the book from his hands. “Why are you not looking at me?”

He sighed, his hands frozen in the air exactly where the book had been a second ago, and finally did look at you, at which point you started to wish he hadn’t.

“You were in quite stimulating company, no? Has Gregory abandoned you that you decided to pay me a visit?” Ah, yes, Gregory, not Mark or Maurice. He gave you a cold stare and an unforgiving smirk, and you choked on a snort.

“Excuse me? Viktor, are you being jealous?” You were now both leaning over the desk, playing a game of stares. Viktor blinked first but made it look like he had won.

“From where I was standing—and I will add that it was many different angles I got to observe—he was quite ready to eat you all right up,” he cocked his head to the side and left you to deal with the statement.

“Eat me? We were just talking,” you said, pointing your finger between the two of you to accentuate that, up until some point, Viktor had also been a part of the conversation. Realising the new round of the staring game had just begun, you relented, “Still—that’s completely irrelevant, as the only person I would wish to eat me is you.”

“That’s very unfortunate then, given that I seem to have lost my appetite.” Viktor took the opening and squeezed it dry. He picked up the book, opened it to a random page, and pretended to sink back into reading.

You straightened, taken aback by this... ridiculous display of mistrust. A smile played under your nose as you circled around the desk, turned the chair to make Viktor face you, and leaned in to touch his mouth with yours. “Are you sure I can’t even interest you in a snack?” you murmured against his lips, placing a lingering kiss there.

Viktor didn’t move, and soon you felt the handle of his cane poking at your stomach, beckoning you away. You shot him a questioning look and moved the cane aside with your hand, only for it to return to where it was, his eyes still fixed on the book. “I said, I am not hungry,” he said, his tone feigning exhaustion.

“Really? Are you telling me you would rather read—” you paused to take the book away and glance at the cover, “Jayce’s journal, rather than quit this pointless display of sulk and spend some time with me?” You held it expectantly in your hand, bemused.

“Yes. And give it back now.” He leaned forward, his hand reaching for the tome, only for you to swing it behind your back and move your body so your face met his.

“What will I get in return?” you asked sweetly, your breath ghosting his cheek. But Viktor wouldn’t give in. He shifted away, gluing his spine to the chair’s backrest.

“How about freedom to roam the party as you please, with whomever you please? Ah, right, apologies—it seems you already took that opportunity,” he mused, his tone almost annoyed as he kept his hand extended, expecting the stolen good to be returned.

“Viktor—” you scolded, growing more and more impatient. The book dropped to the desk with a thump, and before Viktor could reach for it, you straddled his lap, ignoring all the huffs of protest and palms trying to push you away. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face to his, whispering into his ear, your voice needy and keen, “What I want is my man to stop sulking. I can apologize, if you let me.”

Viktor hesitated until his hands rested on your hips, the rest of him still frozen in place. “I’m listening,” he muttered, causing a satisfied smirk to bloom on your lips.

You took the cue and slid your palms flat onto his chest, tugging at his collar. “Well, how would you like your apology to be served, mister?” You licked at the seam of his mouth and sucked on the crown of his upper lip. Viktor allowed it but still wouldn’t engage much, keeping his façade of a man who was hurt. Your tongue travelled down to his jaw, then up to the pulse point below his ear. Finally, you were rewarded with a shudder and a sigh. “Hmm, that seems to be working, no?”

“I’d say your little stunt requires some more remorse to be shown for me to forgive you entirely, my girl,” he murmured, his hands squeezing your hips in tandem with a grunt coming out of his mouth.

“Remorse, huh? I might know one universal way to repent,” you said, sliding off him to the floor, your knees resting on the carpet between his feet, your fingers already tugging at the buckle of his belt. “I’ve heard begging on one’s knees can work wonders.”

He uttered a quiet fuck along with your name, eyes fixed on yours, as you beckoned him to lift his hips, allowing you to slide his pants down his legs. His thumb brushed on your lower lip as he gave you a thoughtful look. “Show me. How sorry you are.”

You smiled and propped your hands on his hips, as you leaned in to tease him. His cock was still soft, twitching slightly under your breath. You began to place lingering kisses across his length, all the way from his balls to the tip, not moving it from the crease of his hip where it rested. Then, you flipped it to the other side with your nose and proceeded to do the same, from the top to bottom, watching it harden after each peck.

Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers curling into your hair, as he pressed his hips into your face and rasped, “I will have to see some more initiative if you want me to believe you.”

You immediately responded with opening your mouth and letting him drag his half-hard length on it, his cock now splayed between your mouth, side of your nose, the tip resting somewhere around your eyebrow, smearing your own spit all over your face. Viktor’s brows pinched together, his lips parted into a toothy smile as he sat back down. “Good,” was the only praise you got so far, and you felt yourself aching for an addition of girl next to it.

Your kisses deepened, more passionate and lingering on the base, your tongue reaching down to his perineum, releasing a startled chuckle somewhere from the depth of his chest. You cocked your head, taking the side of his cock between your lips and started dragging it leisurely up and down, pausing to tease a sensitive spot below the head with the tip of your tongue.

Viktor remained still, his hand resting tangled into your hair, the other gripping the arm rest tightly as his eyes followed your every movement. You glanced up to meet his gaze—blown pupils, cheeks already flushed, lips shining from constant licking. Pleased with the view, you took him in your hand and patted the head of his cock on your flattened tongue, baring your teeth in a smile when his eyes rolled back, and he gave you a quiet ah sound as a reward.

“I feel like you are enjoying it far too much for a proper atonement,” he smirked. Before you could respond, he gripped your hair tighter, motioning your head to rest on his lap, as he slid himself inside your mouth. You groaned against him, grabbing his forearm and he only tsk-ed at you. “Bad girl. Tongue out, breathe through your nose,” he commanded, and you immediately obliged.

He fucked your throat steadily, retreating right before you were about to gag, soft praises falling from his lips. He watched himself appearing and disappearing between your lips and the hand that was previously whitening at the armrest travelled to cup your face and caress your cheek. You closed your eyes at the touch and let the drool roll out of your mouth onto his thigh, your breath heavy through your nose as you tried to even out its rhythm with the one of his thrusts.

He retreated to rub himself all over your face, smearing your makeup in the process. “So pretty like this,” he cooed, stroking your hair. “Are you sorry?”

You nodded, looking at him from under glued eyelashes. And Viktor looked so in love you couldn’t help a smile forcing itself onto your lips.

“Let’s apologize some more, are you ready?” he asked hoarsely, already lining himself against your mouth. Wordlessly, you opened, splaying your tongue out, coating your teeth with your lips to avoid any accidental scratches. He pushed himself deeper, tickling your uvula, while plugging your nose with his fingers and holding you in position.

“Are you sorry?” He leaned in to whisper into your ear, and you nodded, as much as you could. Obediently, you stayed for as long as your breath allowed you to, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, before patting his thigh three times, and Viktor released you with a loud groan, spit glistening on his length.

“Good girl,” he breathed, and you felt something perking up inside you as you reached back out for him to suck on his head. He leaned in the chair, granting a few languid rolls of his hips into your mouth, whispering quiet praises when you gagged yourself on his cock. Undying affection seeping from his eyes, from his touch, pumped air into your lungs, when your nose couldn’t.

“Will you be a good girl and eat me up?” he asked, feeling the lance of lust twisting his guts, his movements speeding up, his breath hitching and you mumbled something sounding like a yes against his thrusts.

His body curled in, hands cupping your face, thumbs digging into your cheeks, wiping your tears away. You felt him hitting the back of your throat a couple of times, drool leaking out with each movement in and out, before his stomach tensed up and he coated the inside of your mouth with his cum, distantly whispering “Yes, yes, good girl.”

You swallowed the salt of him, not letting him out, making sure to lick down every last drop. Viktor shuddered, suddenly overstimulated, and gently pulled you up to sit back on his lap. The thin layer of your knickers so wet it almost disappeared as your cunt pressed on his softening cock. He licked his thumb to clean the smears of mascara cascading down your cheeks and murmured, “You did very well. I forgive you,” before kissing you on the mouth lovingly.

A giggle forced itself out of you, as you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his neck. “Were you really so upset?” You asked quietly, tracing your fingers up and down his chest.

“Of course not,” he chuckled, massaging the nape of your neck. “I wanted to see how willing you would be to apologize though.”

“You are such a bastard,” you smacked his chest and bit his neck, making him wiggle and wince underneath you. “Now you have to apologize to me.”

“If you accept apologies delivered while laying on my stomach, I am willing,” he stated with a shit-eating grin. His expression softened, when he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Well, tricked!” you exclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m alright. Pleasantly full, I might add,” you added with a smirk and placed a peck on his lips. “You?”

“Eh, quite alright myself. Pleasantly devoured, though slightly hungry,” he mused, nipping at your lip, before deepening the kiss. You felt breathless again, his hands sneaking under your shirt, when you mustered some strength to pull away and breathe into his mouth, “I might have something to eat for you when we get home.”

“Or—” Viktor cocked his head, eyeing your knees with a knowing smile.

“Or… what?” You arched your brow, knowing exactly where this was going. Viktor licked his lips.

“What if I am too hungry to wait? Would you accept my apology now?” He asked and his smirk deepened as he tapped your hip three times signalling you to stand up. “And maybe lock the door? For a good measure. Unless, of course, it was a part of your little plan.” His eyes feigned innocence as he played idly with the hem of your skirt, and you could feel your face flush red. Of course, the door was still ajar.

“R-right,” you stuttered sheepishly and went to lock it, your legs wonky. You almost skipped coming back to where Viktor’s finger was pointing on the desk. He let you in between him on a chair and the edge of the wood and pushed his palms flat underneath your skirt to yank your knickers down to your ankles. You shuddered at the sensation of the material ungluing itself from you.

“Up,” he commanded and once you were seated, he leaned down to pick up your underwear, sniff it obscenely to finally put it in his pocket. Your eyes were so transfixed on the action, that the touch of his hands under your knees startled you, as he scooted the chair closer to the desk and hooked them over his shoulders.

And then he paused, eyes staring at your weeping cunt, his breaths deep and steady as he inhaled your scent. “To think you would let this waste and make me wait until we get home deserves a punishment in itself, I might say,” he murmured and the hot air coming from his mouth fanned your skin. His flat palm travelled up from your navel to your stomach, pressing you to lay down.

He didn’t wait for your spine to meet the desk fully, so when he dived in, the back of your head hit the wood with a quiet thump. His tongue stroke a rapid lick along your seam before coming to your clit with a chuckled hum of approval. A very vocal moan pushed itself past your mouth and you were grateful to your past self for closing that door. Soon your voice pitched higher as you breathed an incomprehensive, “Ah, Viktor,” while trying to bring your hips closer to his face, but his grip on you rendered it utterly impossible. His licks, fast and precise, caused your thighs to shake on his shoulders.

His hand slid from pressing on your stomach down to your navel, his thumb brushing your clit, when he asked hoarsely, “And what do we say to a Gregory, next time we meet him, hm?”

Completely confused and frustrated at the sudden change you managed to rasp, “Who?” and Viktor chuckled warmly, straight into you. “Good girl.”

His tongue slid down to your entrance, giving you shallow thrusts, while his thumb rubbed even circles on your clit, keeping the previous pace. Another thump of your head, fingers whitening at the edge of the desk as you tried desperately to move underneath him.

He began to deepen his movements, pressing his face hungrily into your cunt. Feeling your walls closing down on his tongue and mouth, his thumb picked up the pace. And you felt it so strongly, the orgasm wrenched out of you, built up by the last hour of apologizing on your knees. You felt it down to your toes, your heels digging into Viktor’s ribs as he hummed into you, drinking you all up, and keeping your thighs hooked with his arms. Only when you patted his shoulders blindly, he released you, placing one last kiss on your pubic bone.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, exhaling shakily, your chest heaving. You heard him getting up, allowing your legs to hang limply from the edge of the desk, as he circled around it, and took your jaw in his hand. He leaned in to give you a sweet kiss on the mouth and asked, “Am I forgiven?”

“Yes. Am I?” you murmured against his lips, and he smiled again.

“Not sure. You might want to check again at home.”

[tojisun]

currently obsessed with biker!simon!!!! how do you think he and reader met? i think, whatever the situation was, he was the one that couldn't get his eyes off her and started to bluntly stare??? maybe soap was with him and laughed bc he had never saw him get this serious about any girl he had laid his eyes on 😫😫😫😫

BAE I WENT FERAL WHEN I READ THIS BECAUSE YEAH!!! YEAH

ok so this is gonna be ridiculous but bear with me because im actually so obsessed with biker!simon im unwell

simon prefers using his bike whenever he’s out with his friends. there’s no use taking his car, anyway. not with kyle hitching a ride with john, and johnny taking his own car on the few occasions that he does bring someone home with him.

simon’s never had to take those things into account because he preferred a quiet end to his nights, anyway. just a shot of bourbon and a short dinner with his friends, and then he’s back on the road and on his way home.

so he’s never had regrets with taking his bike. until today, of course.

he’s noticed you since you walked into the bar with your friends, your arm hooked around one of them and your head tilted to hear them better. the others who are not engaged in a discussion with you whipped their heads around to find an empty booth and simon almost crushed his glass at the way his heart leapt when he realized that the closest empty booth in the place was the one directly beside his group’s. 

simon watched as your group moved closer, the chatter finally piercing his ears and, unconsciously, his body turned to hear you better. from in front of him, johnny’s pinched lips finally wobbled as he wheezed out a laugh, breaking simon’s focus.

“what?” simon barked out, feeling warmth creep up from his neck to his ears, half of his mind focused on the group settling behind him. 

“holy shit,” johnny said mid-laughter. “you don’t know anythin’ about subtlety.”

simon grumbled then, in denial, but now he just fully stopped caring.

somehow, as the night progressed, simon gravitated towards the seat facing yours, a spot where he had a clear vantage view of you. he’s taken advantage of the change in seating, devouring the sight you make as you giggled with your friends. devouring the change in atmosphere, now that you’ve begun to return his heated looks.

it started with curious looks, born from your friend whispering to you how simon was staring; how, throughout the night, he did not entertain all those who went up beside him and focused only on you. then your gaze shifted into something scalding. something that sent liquid fire warming simon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his spine.

mactavish sighs beside him. “just buy the lass a drink already.”

simon peels his eyes away from you to look at johnny, mulling over the suggestion before grunting out a thanks. he stands up and walks to the bar, calling out to get the bartender’s attention.

remembering the bellini that you’ve been nursing since you got here, simon asks for another flute of the cocktail and requests that it be served to you. he turns when he says this, hoping to give the bartender a clear view of who the bellini is for only to blink in surprise when he sees you standing just a few feet away from him.

“sir?” the man behind the counter asks.

“sorry. just serve it here,” simon replies, his eyes still on you. there is shuffling behind him, the bartender probably leaving to whip up his order, but simon honestly doesn’t care anymore.

not when you finally shuffle close, a shy smile dancing on your lips.

“hello,” you greet, voice a hesitant whisper, and simon feels like he’s been gutted.

you’re so goddamn beautiful, it’s catastrophic. 

simon thinks of how short you are, something he’s first noticed the moment you walked into the bar. it’s not like he’s surprised by the realization given that he tends to tower over anyone ever since he hit his growth spurt, but there is something unfurling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes how perfectly you fit in his arms. how easy it would be to just tuck you underneath his chin and slot himself around you. 

“hey,” he finally replies, his eyes roving along your features, trying to memorize the shimmer of your lips. the long wisps of your lashes. “‘m simon.”

you giggle, introducing yourself shyly, and the sound of your laughter tickles his ears, making him weak to his knees. he mouths your name, testing it out for himself and preening when it rolls off his tongue with ease. like your name is something simon is supposed to always call. 

his new favourite word.

“sorry,” you say, lifting your hand like you want to reach out and touch him, only for you to snuff out the action in your anxiousness. “i don’t, uh, come up to people i find attractive so this is really making me nervous.”

simon is aware of how good he looks – he’s proud of it even – but there is something about a pretty darling like you admitting how his looks make you nervous that sparks the desire in him to transform into something more carnal.

something more visceral.

he reaches his hand out toward you, inviting you to finally close the remaining distance between you two, and smiles when you take the offer, placing your hand on top of his palm, sending goosebumps to rise across his skin. you step into his space and simon has to stop himself from breathing you in, afraid how he’ll end up reacting when he’s taken a whiff of your intoxicating scent. 

“i’ve ordered you a drink,” simon whispers, his voice a hoarse croak.

“oh,” you mumble. “thank you...”

he notes the hesitation in your words, the bubble in his chest popping as his worry extinguishes his burning desire. “you don’t have to drink it.”

“no!” 

he startles at your reaction, his wide eyes staring back at your equally shocked ones. 

it takes a heartbeat before the two of you are breaking off into choked laughter, your body angled to muffle your giggles on the sleeves of his sweater. simon’s heart clenches at the cute display and he curls his arms around you, pulling you close until your head is pressed on his chest.

he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

it takes a while for the laughter to fizzle out, leaving you putty in his arms, your chin digging into his chest as you gaze up at him. simon eagerly returns your stare, his lips stretched into the softest of smiles now that he has you in his arms. he brushes your hair away from your face, warmth exploding in his chest at your happy little sigh.

“wanna leave this place with you,” you tell him and simon trembles with need. 

because he wants you to come home with him too. wants to show you how a sweetheart like you deserves to be treated. how you deserve to be cherished and pampered and revered. 

then, he remembers his goddamn harley. 

fuck. 

wait. now that he thinks about it-

“is there something wrong?” you ask, face creasing in worry at seeing his frown. 

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” simon replies, his mind already mapping out the roads to his place. “lemme just grab my keys while you drink up, yeah?”

you nod softly, eyes fluttering close when simon leans forward to press his lips on the top of your head, before stepping away from your warmth. he watches the way you ambled towards the bar counter, carefully picking up your new flute of bellini before turning to show him that adorable little smile that simon’s starting to be addicted to and taking a small sip of your cocktail.

the wrap of your pretty lips around the straw shouldn’t stir something so carnal in him but it does and simon gulps, well aware of the sudden thirst that sucked the moisture from his throat, before turning to march towards his table.

johnny whistles out loud when simon reaches them, tipping his new glass of beer and whooping even when kyle growls how he’s being too loud. simon would’ve sided with garrick, but his patience is running thin and the need that is raging within him is gaining strength so he ignores them both to stand beside johnny.

“keys.”

“what?”

“mactavish, give me your keys.”

“...why?”

simon holds in a sigh as he watches kyle reach over to smack johnny on the back of his head. “what the hell do you think?” 

john continues to ignore the group, his eyes trained somewhere on the dance floor. traitor, simon thinks. 

“oh,” johnny whispers. “oh!” 

he tries not to tap his foot as johnny grapples with his trousers, hitting his elbows on the edge of the table and angrily cursing in scottish, before finally fishing them out of the depths of his pockets and presenting them to simon. simon takes them with urgency, almost ripping them from johnny’s fingers, before throwing the keys of his harley to johnny and barking out his thanks.

“use protection!” johnny screams because of course he would. he’s a fucking bastard.

simon flips him off as he marches back towards you. 

you look up at hearing him call your name, your beautiful face glowing as you smile at him again.

god, he’ll never tire of seeing your pretty smile.

“ready?” he asks, masking the excitable tremble of his voice with a quick cough.

“mhmm!” you reply, putting down your half-empty cocktail and clambering beside simon’s side. he presses another kiss on the top of your head, this time no longer holding back as he breathes you in, and leads you out towards johnny’s car.

next time, he’ll take you out for a bike ride. 

because simon promises that there will be a next time.

starting to think if i might need a masterlist for biker!simon atp // edit: mlist!

[strwberri-milk]

hii never requested before so lmk if this is wrong somehow, but im curious on how you think the boys would be if they realized you were experiencing medical malpractice. (negligence, failure to diagnose, etc.) i would like all the boys, but if not, doing only zayne is fine! (most curious for him just cuz he’s a doctor lol) tysm :)

All of them are incredibly angry on your behalf. He can't believe you're going through that, being hurt by someone who's meant to help you. You'd been seeing this doctor for a while, so of course you trust them, thinking that they were doing what was good for you. However, your lack of progress started concerning you and you ended up secretly getting a second opinion, dismayed when another doctor told you that they had no idea what your primary physician was doing.

Sylus and Rafayel want to absolutely decimate your physician's practise, and will do so behind the scenes. They don't want to drag you into the situation, but wants to do something about it. He uses his money to expose the scummy things your doctor did, making sure that their professional reputation is tarnished.

Sylus goes a step further, aiming to have their credentials revoked from them as further punishment for what they've done to you.

Rafayel doesn't go that far since he doesn't care - unless you want him to - but regardless, they're both going to spend a bunch of money getting you a private doctor.

Zayne and Xavier decide to come to your appointment to see what's happening. He judges quietly, observing what your doctor does and taking mental notes of it.

Xavier not having a medical background means he decides to ask more questions about why or why not your doctor won't do certain things, asking them to record everything to a tee on your chart. He makes it very clear that he's not impressed with their work and should expect a call from a medical board very soon.

Zayne doesn't reveal that he's a doctor until he decides things have gone too far, telling your doctor to their face how unprofessional they are and that he's going to see to it that nobody falls for their trickery again. His judgement is widely respected amongst the community, therefore making it incredibly hard for your doctor to continue working the second he brings up the slightest doubt against them.