#I was kinda stuck with the other one so I felt like doing something short and silly would help and I think it did! :D

[violetscanfly]

Reaper shenanigans

Instead of working on the animatic I already teased I somehow made this kskffjs

[katemoneymartinsgf]

can you do a pazzi one where Azzi is sick but keeps it from Paige because she’s busy with training camp. When it gets worse and Azzi has to go to the hospital or something kk tells Paige and she comes home to take care of Azzi

Sick & Stubborn |pazzi|

a/n: Hope this is what you kinda wanted 🙏🏽

It started with the smallest things.
Azzi felt it in her neck first — that kind of ache that sits behind your eyes and never quite goes away. She told herself it was sleep. Not enough of it. Too many late nights scrolling, too many early lifts. Nothing new.

Her throat burned the next morning.
By then, she was already half-dressed for practice, sports bra tight against her ribs, hoodie slung over her shoulder as she blinked at the fog on her bathroom mirror.

You’re fine.

She coughed. Wiped her nose. Drank water.
Brushed it off.

She wasn’t dramatic. She didn’t whine about being sick.
She played through injury. She smiled through the kind of pressure that made other people fold.

So a sore throat? A little dizziness?
She could handle that.

What she couldn’t handle — or didn’t want to — was the idea of Paige knowing.

Paige was two weeks into training camp with the Wings, and things were finally starting to click. Her texts came in between drills, short and excited, sometimes with pictures of her locker or a new pair of shoes she swore she didn’t ask for.

P: look at these bruh
P: we’re running everything through me rn it’s lowkey wild
P: I miss your voice tho. call later”

Azzi stared at that last one for a long second before typing back.

Az: practice ran late, I’m tired. maybe tomorrow?

She wasn’t lying.
She was tired.
So tired her knees shook when she stood up too fast.
So tired her cereal had gone untouched that morning.
So tired she didn’t trust her voice not to crack if she said too much.

She tucked her phone under her pillow and laid back on the couch, hoodie pulled over her head even though it was warm inside. Her stomach was starting to hurt now. Her head, too. Every blink felt like her body asking for sleep.

You’re just worn down, she told herself. Stop making it a thing.

She hadn’t seen KK all day.
Which was lucky.

Azzi didn’t want the lecture. Didn’t want the concern.
Didn’t want anyone — especially not Paige — to look at her and see through her.

Because if Paige knew, she’d come back.
She’d worry.
She’d miss a team meeting, or skip a workout, or take a flight and leave her whole routine behind just to be there.

And Azzi didn’t want to be the reason Paige slowed down.

So she closed her eyes.
Tucked the blanket tighter around herself.
And let herself drift — not into sleep exactly, but something close to it.

A pause.
A quiet place between “I’m okay” and “Please notice I’m not.”

—

The second morning was worse.

Azzi woke up shivering — not the post-practice kind, not even the “I kicked the blanket off” kind. This was deep. Cold-in-her-bones cold. Her hoodie stuck to her back, damp from sweat. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her limbs like cinderblocks.

She sat up too fast and the room tilted sideways.

For a second, she stayed there — elbows on her knees, fingers pressed against her temples, trying to remember if she had anything scheduled before noon.

She didn’t even remember falling asleep last night.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

P: how u feeling? thought abt you all practice baby ”
P: sweat hit my eye and i was like ‘yeah azzi would’ve laughed at that’
P: you good?

Azzi stared at the screen, thumbs hovering.

Then typed:

Az: i’m fine. hope your eye recovers lol

She didn’t send a selfie.
Didn’t want Paige to see the dark circles under her eyes, or the flush in her cheeks that wasn’t from warmth.

——

KK got back late that night after study hall. Azzi didn’t hear her come in — didn’t even register the sound of keys or the door closing. She was curled up on the corner of the couch under a throw blanket, barely responsive, half-asleep but not resting.

The TV was on but muted.

KK walked into the kitchen and grabbed a drink from the fridge, then paused.

"azzi?"

No response.

KK walked over slowly, concern growing with every step. Azzi's skin looked flushed and pale at the same time. Her breathing was uneven — shallow, slow, like every inhale was a negotiation.

KK crouched next to the couch and gently touched her shoulder.

Azzi startled slightly, blinking open with a small gasp.

“Hey,” KK said softly. “You okay?”

Azzi blinked again. Tried to sit up and failed.

“I’m—” she croaked, then coughed. Tried again. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” KK said, her voice flatter now.

Azzi tried to protest again but her hand was shaking, and KK saw it.

“You have a fever,” KK said quietly. “Like a real one.”

Azzi didn’t answer.

KK stood up, grabbed her phone, and walked into the hallway.

She didn’t hesitate.
She called Paige.

Paige picked up on the second ring — breathless, like she’d been mid-conversation.

“KK?”

“Azzi is really sick.”

The line went quiet.

“What do you mean sick?”

“I mean I just watched her try to sit up and she couldn’t. She’s burning up. She’s barely talking. Her phone’s full of unread messages.”

Another pause. Shorter this time. Then:

“I’m flying home.”

“Paige—”

“I should’ve known,” Paige said quietly. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because she didn’t want to distract you.”

“Well, she failed,” Paige muttered. “Text me the address of wherever you’re taking her. I’ll be on the next flight out.”

——

By the time Paige made it to Azzi’s apartment, it was past midnight.
The Uber driver had been chatty, the kind that asks why you're flying last-minute and what’s got you looking so stressed. Paige had nodded along and said something about school, but her stomach hadn’t unclenched since she landed.

She hadn’t even changed. Wings sweatshirt still on, training bag slung over her shoulder, phone in one hand with KK’s last text open on the screen.

“She’s in bed. Still out of it. Door’s unlocked. I’m staying with ice tonight to give y’all space.”

“Thank you.” Paige said before hugging her goodbye and letting herself inslowly

The apartment was dark except for a small lamp in the corner. A tea mug sat half-full on the kitchen counter. There was a sweatshirt draped over a chair. One of Paige’s, actually — Azzi must’ve taken it from her bag the last time they were together.

She didn’t expect the sound she made when she saw her.

Azzi was curled up in bed, blanket pulled to her chin, hoodie sleeves covering her hands. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted. She looked smaller. Tired in a way Paige wasn’t used to seeing — not post-practice tired. Worn tired.

Paige’s throat tightened.
She sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s forehead.

Azzi stirred at the touch. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Paige?”

“Hey,” Paige said softly. “Hi.”

Azzi blinked at her, confused and a little glassy. “You’re not supposed to be—”

“I know.” Paige exhaled slowly. “But KK called me. Said you were sick. And I got on a plane.”

Azzi’s face crumpled slightly, and Paige saw it — that flicker of guilt, of embarrassment. That thing Azzi always tried to hide when she needed help.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Azzi murmured, voice hoarse.

Paige shook her head, brushing the back of her hand down Azzi’s cheek.

“You’re allowed to worry me,” she whispered. “That’s what loving someone looks like sometimes.”

Azzi looked away. “You’ve got training camp. You’re doing so good. I didn’t want to mess with that.”

“I don’t care.” Paige leaned closer. “You think I’d rather run pick n’ roll drills than be here right now?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She was too tired. But she pressed her face into Paige’s palm like it grounded her.

Paige tucked the blanket tighter around her. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I still am.”

They stayed quiet for a moment. The weight of it all — what was said, what wasn’t — settled between them like a blanket heavier than the one Azzi was under.

Then Paige leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Slowly. Carefully. Like she didn’t want to break her.

“You don’t have to be tough all the time,” Paige said against her skin. “Not with me.”

Azzi’s voice cracked on the next breath. “I didn’t want to be the reason you slowed down.”

Paige pulled her in gently, arms wrapping around her even as she curled into Paige’s chest.

“You’re the reason I know how to breathe, Az.”

Azzi didn’t respond. Just exhaled shakily and let herself be held.

Azzi woke up to the smell of something burnt.

The apartment was quiet, but she could hear soft shuffling from the kitchen and what sounded suspiciously like Paige muttering under her breath.

Her throat still hurt. Her head was still fuzzy.
But there was something comforting about knowing Paige was there — even if she was probably ruining the toast.

“Please don’t say you cooked,” Azzi croaked.

Paige’s head popped around the corner.

“You’re alive.”

Azzi blinked at her. “Debatable.”

Paige crossed the room and crouched beside the bed. She had on a wrinkled hoodie and mismatched socks and smelled vaguely like burnt peanut butter toast.

“You look like shit,” Paige said softly.

Azzi smiled, weakly. “Thanks.”

“I brought you tea.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Did you microwave it?”

“It was a two-mug situation. The first one got cold. I’m not proud of it.”

She helped Azzi sit up, slow and careful, piling a second pillow behind her back.

Azzi didn’t say much. Just watched her move — fussing, quiet, way too focused for someone who tried to act chill about everything.

After a beat, Azzi muttered, “You didn’t have to fly home.”

Paige shrugged like it was nothing. “You scared me.”

Azzi frowned down at the tea.

“I didn’t want to... make a big deal out of it.”

“You didn’t,” Paige said. “KK did.”

Azzi huffed. “Traitor.”

“She saved you from having to fake it any longer. Be grateful.”

Azzi sipped the tea. It wasn’t great, but it was hot. And made for her. And that was enough.

“You’re hovering,” she said after a minute.

“Am not.”

“You’re watching me drink tea like I might die from it.”

Paige grinned. “Just making sure you don’t slip into a coma.”

Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut again.

“You’re annoying.”

“And yet, here I am.”

They sat in silence after that — no big emotional declarations, no perfect ending.
Just quiet breathing. Shared space. Warmth.

Paige didn’t need to say she loved her.
Azzi already knew.

[crush-itis]

HALLOOOO GURRRLL !! HOWW ARE YOUU ?? I'M HEREEE TO REQUEST !! AND IT'S BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE ! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

SOOO i saw a lot of lilia x human!reader but not lilia x fae!reader(i saw a few of them) SO! Lilia and reader have been married ever since lilia was a general! they have been taking care of the boys together ever since the boys were little (Silver, malleus and sebak) Silver see reader as his mother and malleus kinda see reader the same way like silver (?), and sebak respect her just like lilia! Soo the story is the reader secretly visit the boys and snuck in the diasomnia like it's been years they haven't seen each other but still keep in contact by latters~! And when the boys find out about this, lilia was excited to see her only for reader to have all her attention to the boys(her children-) and babying them instead of him! and only got scolded by the reader(she's a bossy wife) for giving her children his homemade foods all this years(silver complain about it to reader) and his kinda sulking about it and being dramatic a little

Sorry for my bad English since it's not my first language and I also hopee my request isn't too much !! (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

ㆍ 𓎟𓎟 ⑅ ⠀FAMILY REUNION !

tags ⠀short, fluffy + few suggestive themes, fae!reader

w.c ⠀1031

a/n ⠀thank youu for the ask!! im so sorry if i didnt make the characters act accurately (idk how to write a happy family) but also im doing okayyy, thank you ^ - ^ 🤍

songs coming home, flaming hot cheetos, puppy love, melting

Browning love letters, stamped with outdated, faerie imperial insignias, they crumple, and collect dust from the top shelf they’re stacked in.

You traced a finger against a special love letter from Lilia, brushing your fingertips against the cursive letters, and the wacky doodled picture of you.

You had been resting in the drawing room on the left wing of your hearty mansion.

Your servant had prepared an ornate, gold tray filled with the love letters exchanged with your beloved.

You usually reread your favourites in your free time.

It was something to remember Lilia for.

Although the two of you were still married, and still very much in love, the distance between you two made it harder for you to cope in your stuffy, lonely, and cold manor.

You couldn’t even call it your home anymore ever since Lilia had left.

“Lilia” was what you truly considered your home.

Perhaps it was time to finally visit him for all these years.

With your engagement ring strapped snugly around your finger, you swooped into your carriage, dolled up, gown and all.

The carriage rattled off to your destination: Night Raven College.

It was one… odd school.

When you stepped inside, your heels clacking against the hardened gravel, you felt the eyes of young students pour on you.

It was an academy full of eccentric pupils…

They must be wondering who you were.

Silver had fallen asleep (again) on school grounds.

Specifically, the green fields just next to Diasomina.

His head rested on the hard, jagged planes of tree bark, and the fluffy, tallish grass he laid on served as a comforting blanket, and mattress.

A bit of sunlight feathered on his sleeping face, slumbering away under the shade with no care for his stacking homework.

He’ll get it done in a jiffy anyway.

With Silver still asleep, you spotted your once baby boy lying comfortably on a bed of grass.

Silver felt a tickle on his side.

His brows knitted close together, and in the middle of his dreams drew away.

He stirred awake, and found himself gasping at the appearance of his mother.

“Boo!” you chuckled, and booped his nose.

“Mother?” Silver let out a shaky breath.

“Shh! We have to surprise your father.” you hushed his mouth before gently grabbing his arm, standing him up.

You removed the leaves caught on his silver-chrome hair, grinning at the timid youngster.

You also couldn’t help but squish, and squeeze his cheeks, cooing at his now grown face.

“You look just like a flower!” You were still babying Silver in his big age.

Silver blushed, abashed by your antics.

He was definitely not expecting your sudden visit.



It felt like Mother’s Day.

Silver led you to the dormitory—the glum, dark shades a stark contrast between your bright, sunny smile.

It took a lot of convincing for you to finally get Silver to help you sneak into Diasomnia.

It was your first time here, and you were getting so much attention again.

You didn’t mind the sea of eyes on you, but you most definitely minded the retchy smell stuffing the halls.

You did not see a female in sight.

There were only male students walking about in sweaty uniforms.

They all caught an unpleasant aroma.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, reaching a gloved hand to cover your nose.

It was a great thing Lilia had taught Silver proper hygiene.

Still walking away, you began to hear the footsteps of a peculiar young man.

Silver also heard a loud, screechy voice along with it.

A snarky silhouette followed, and there goes the familiar, bright green hair.

“Sil-“ the loud, beaming voice suddenly lowered as his eyes turned to the lady next to Silver.

His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped wide open. “Lady Vanrouge!” He squeaked.

“Sebek,” you smiled softly at the boy. He was still the same after all those years.

He always stuck close with Silver, and your husband, Lilia. You remember him being one of Lilia’s pupils.

“How old are you now?” you chuckled, ruffling Sebek’s hair.

“I am sixteen now, and I have grown into a respectable gentleman!” He still had that loud, prideful voice.

You smiled at that, nodding. “That’s amazing!” you applauded him.

“But may I ask, what are you doing here, miss?” Sebek blinked, and Silver hummed in curiosity as well.

“Well, I missed you guys, silly! And of course his father too.” you reached to playfully pinch Silver’s nose, making him squeal.

“Ah, yes. I still remember your wedding.” Sebek nodded vigorously. He respected you just as much as he respected Lilia.

Sebek’s heart hammered away in his chest from happiness.

With the trio now off to surprise Lilia, they found Malleus along the way.

His nose was stuck between the pages of a non fiction.

“Your Highness,” you poked Malleus’ side. He shivered, his attention quickly steering away from his book.

He was still ticklish as ever.

“Y/N?” He blinked.

He was more confused than shocked.

It was adorable.

You pinched his nose.

With the whole group now, they finally arrived at Lilia's door.

Malleus knocked, waiting for a pair of scarlet red eyes to peek behind the door.

The door creaked open,

“Boo!” You twinkled your hands for a crazier effect.

Lilia was just as surprised as the boys were.

Even more when you decided to spend more time with the kids rather than him.

Lilia pawed at your waist, trying to grab your attention like a flimsy, irritating bat going through its breeding season.

The whole family hung around in Lilia’s dorm, skipping class as they watched a comedy.

It was the only time the students relented in attending classes.

The sun began to lower, and the stars began to shimmer, the kids had gone back to their dorms, leaving just the couple alone.

It felt like the two of you were back in your teen years.

Lilia nipped at your ear, whispering sweet nothings.

He bit his lip, yearning for you.

You felt the warmth radiating from his body, and you couldn’t help but giggle sheepishly.

With his hand now snaking for your hip, pulling you closer, Lilia reached to suckle on your throat.

[amiaclone]

I came to kindly ask something about the unmasked square boss that they take hostage in episode 7

*inhale*

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE 😭

You asked I’ll writeee!

*Just as In ho was about to shoot the unmasked guard you grabbed the gun down and turned to the guard*

*He looked to be about the same age as you early 20s or teens maybe? Either way he was young it was wrong but he has his whole life ahead of him!*

*The guard seemed shocked you took the gun and sighed* “Tell us where the headquarters of this place is. Killing you would make us just as bad.” *You spoke in a calm yet stern voice the unmasked guard couldn’t help but stare in admiration*

*As he took us to the place the unmasked guard stuck to you the whole time the others seemed he’d kill him during the first chance they’d get you however seemed different i mean he KNEW he deserved to die but….you gave a nice like home feeling he hasn’t ever felt that in ages…..if at all.*

*You decided to try talking to the guard as he was walking right next to you and maybe find out some backstory as to why guards are guards and hey…..he’s kinda cute.*

“Soo why are you a guard anyway?” *You asked out of the blue*

*The guard tensed he continued walking but he didn’t know what to say would you shoot him if he didn’t answer? What was he supposed to do just tell you?*

“Will you shoot me if i don’t tell you?”

*You quirked an eyebrow* “Why would i do that i need you to take us to the place…..ok and im intrigued that’s all how could they hire someone so young like you’re the same age as me dude….” *You stared at him and couldn’t help but observing his eyes….such beautiful eyes yet they seemed emotionless somehow.*

“Well if you really wanna know us guards are asked in a different way you players are.”

*You felt shocked for a second damn he was gonna tell you* “In what way exactly?”

“Well one thing we have in common is that we’re in pretty bad debt too…..if not more.”

*You quirked an eyebrow* “No way some guy here is in debt to 10 billion you’re telling me more than that?!”

*He didn’t say anything but you assumed he nodded*

“Oh well….what else?”

“Some of us are founded from places like let’s say we are homeless or in my case…..”

(Fake backstory incoming 🔥)

“I was an escaper from North Korea I had nowhere to go in fact i was pretty sure I could get sent back any day in the out world….”

*You frowned ah so he didn’t have anywhere to go that’s sad doesn’t justify anything but you can sympathise.*

“Ah so you had nowhere to go so you just took it?”

“Yes i….didn’t think i had a choice. That doesn’t matter anyway after all im pretty sure I’ll be killed after this….”

“Who said we’re killing you?”

*He quirked an eyebrow for once showing emotion on his face*

“No offense but I doubt this plan will succeed there’s too many guards and other workers that could and will come any minute and the manager….im not sure you’ll make it.”

*You shrugged* “Well if we DO fail why would they kill you?” “Number one rule is never show your face I’ll be killed even though im being forced.” *You pondered in thought you didn’t agree with anything this guy did no matter his backstory but you felt bad.* “Well why don’t you quickly put your mask on before they come?” *He sighed he couldn’t help but find your dumb questions…..cute.* “It’s not that simple.”

“Welll i guess this means you basically have to work with us then?” *Maybe lightening the mood was dumb but what else can you do in a situation like this?*

*Yet even though it’s something he never would of considered the unmasked guard couldn’t help but let out a small smile something he didn’t think he was capable of*

“That is so dumb….” *He stopped himself immediately afraid you’d shoot him for saying that you instead frowned*

“Heyy you could be a little nicer you know.”

“Im sorry-“ “Relax dude I’m messing chill out.” *He sighed in relief which you chuckled a bit out of pity and humour.* “You’re funny who knew a guard could be cool in some way…”

Sooo i hope you liked it sorry if it seemed short!

[loovser]

the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all - chapter 4

synopsis turns out the cute guy from the cd store is actually… a girl

wc: 3,3k

cw: feelings all over the place, love you jesse and dina, ellie’s trying hard… my pookie. mentions of weed, cursing, lila is now kinda cool, angst, fluff and oh my god the ending just made me crazy and dizzy aaaand don’t kill me.

ellie fucked up. she knows that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. for what it’s worth, it hurts even more to know that she put you through all of this. it was wrong from the start. a misunderstanding that she should have solved as soon as it came to her knowledge.

but how could she? when all she thought about was you. how everything felt so easy with you. for once in her life, someone was really seeing her — and it was you. she wanted that. desperately.

she was selfish. but the way you flooded her with so many feelings — it overflowed. and you got swept away in it, too.

it’s been a whole day. she hasn’t seen you around campus. not even in your classes — don’t ask her how she memorized those. but she wasn’t sure if she should look for you. well, she knows she should give you some space. but still, she already craves seeing you. she misses you, misses talking to you.

her mind is stuck on the way she touched your face. the way you were so close to her. how you looked at her. she messed it all up. and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. the solution she came up with — staying in her dorm all day — isn’t really working. it was just making it worse. she wants to go home to joel, but he is out of town. she knows that, if she calls him, he will go back instantly. that’s why she doesn’t. suck it up, ellie.

she tried calling you when you left. no answer. she tried contacting you, it hurt to see your old conversations. she wonders how it feels for you. probably worse. it confirms her suspicions when you leave her on read — every message she sends is totally ignored, just like the ones she’s sending right now.

ellie Do Not Answer (2:54) talk to me… im really sorry

ellie Do Not Answer (2:54) i miss you

no answer. you lock the screen, fighting back the tears. you’ve already cried too much over this. it feels so… embarrassing. you feel so dumb. how could you not recognize her? the way she sounds, the way she moves. it’s all so… ellie. you should’ve known better. but at the same time, how could you doubt anything about her when you connected so deeply in such a short time.

when you found out, you were so hurt. you felt betrayed. it pained you deeply, how you felt like you were being played. how she was making a fool out of you. did she laugh about this to her friends? did she think you are stupid, just as you feel? was it a dare? some kind of twisted joke? one of those bet things from crappy rom-coms?

deep down, you know that she must have had a reason for it. if she’s really anything like she was showing to you, there’s no way she did that because she was trying to hurt you. it’s so confusing how your thoughts oscillate between thinking about her feelings and reasons or just sticking to yours. like you are on a damn seesaw, feelings tossed up and down, again and again.

you missed all your classes today. your friends were texting you like crazy. leah even mentions ellie — as the quiet girl who sits next to you during VFX classes. saying something about how she went to all of your classes, looking for something and how she finds it weird. you snort. she’s such a loser.

and you are crying again. because, even if you try not to, you miss her too. you miss talking to her about songs, about you and about her. just… about everything. you weren’t even talking for that long, but you already knew so much about each other. except her real identity. the damn seesaw.

what are you supposed to believe? was she being herself around you all the time? even during texts? she did mention her roomie was a bitch when you thought she was miller and it turned out to be true. she also told you that she didn’t go to college, which she does. sharing fucking classes with me, yeah — surprise. i get it now.

it is too much. even more when you think about having to see her again. you have a fucking project to finish together, or you will fail the class. you can’t fail it. even if you want to change your partner now, you’ll have to talk to her at some point.

which is bothering her too. a lot. but not for the same reason as it’s bothering you. she definitely wants to work on it with you, but she gotta make things right first. somehow… there has to be a way you can forgive her. even if you don’t want to be friends — or whatever it is that you were — with her anymore. at the very least, she just… really wants to finish this project with you.

she opens her spotify, to check the playlist you made her and- oh my fucking god.

it’s gone. deleted. as in: doesn’t exist anymore. she feels like crying, again.

she needs to do something to fix it. anything. whatever it takes.

meanwhile, all you want is to rot in bed all day. or even better, all week. it’s funny how someone you’ve known for less than a month can have such a huge impact on you. well, at least talked to for less than a month. because really, she’s been around for a while. and it’s not like you haven’t noticed her before. you just haven’t really seen her and you wish you had before all of this happened. things could be different, no lies to hurt you in the process.

but it didn’t happen. and still, your heart flutters when you remember the moments you shared together. the way her calloused fingers felt so soft on your cheek. how her green eyes sometimes flicker with this hazel shadow when the sun peeks through the cd store’s window.

how you would do anything to see her flushed cheeks underneath her face mask while she flirted with you. or how pretty she must have looked when you could hear the smirk in her voice. somehow it makes you feel relieved that miller and ellie are actually one. the same. how all your worries were never really a problem because you were not confused between two people. in reality you were falling for the same one, all sides of her. of ellie.

you unfollowed her on instagram and deleted the playlist you made her earlier and you kind of regret it now. even if you never felt anything close to what you feel about her, you always had in mind that it is never a waste to feel. whatever it is that you are feeling, just feel it. but it’s hard when you don’t even know what you are feeling. you are sad, disappointed, embarrassed. but you are also relieved — and missing her.

gladly, a knock on your door gives your tortured brain some rest. you sigh, not really knowing what to expect when you make your way to open it. when you see jesse and dina there you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. maybe you should just answer her and actually talk about it like grown-ups do.

“what the fuck..” you murmur, curiosity getting the best of you. they are her friends after all.

“hello to you, too.” jesse chuckles and dina elbows him slightly, flashing you a sheepish smile.

“we have a delivery for you!” she adds, taking a little zipbag full of weed from his jacket’s pocket.

“um… i don’t remember buying this”

“that’s cause you didn’t.” the guy deadpans.

“it’s a gift!” dina barges in. “from ellie.”

“oh…” it’s all you manage to say. of course it’s from ellie. is she really trying to buy me with weed right now?

you blink, staring at the bag. they stare back at you, waiting for your reaction. you sigh as the silence stretches just enough for it to get awkward, grabbing it from her hand gently. taking it to your nose, you don’t even need to make an effort to sniff it. this is not your usual. it’s the more expensive one. some really high quality shit.

“wow. she put some effort into it, didn’t she?” you bite back a smile.

“yup. made her pay full price because of the bullshit she pulled-“ dina smacks his arm to stop him from talking any further, earning a loud ‘ouch!’ from him.

“can’t really pass free weed now” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but by the way they smile you know they can see right through you.

“i guess you can’t” she chuckles. “what you can do, tho it’s showing up to the college’s rooftop tonight.”

“that would be great, yes, dina. great idea! like, you could just go up there at 8 p.m. sharp.” jesse adds and you can’t help but laugh at how they are really doing this right now.

“you’re good friends, y’know? i’ll think about it.”

“okay, yeah… keep playing it hard to get like we don’t know you will be there�� can’t fool us!” he jokes, pulling dina together with him so they can leave your apartment’s door.

leaving you there, the damn gift weighing heavy in your hand — and on your heart. how much money did she actually spend with that? it makes you feel bad, somehow. you know she hurt you and you know she knows it too. your heart clenches at the thought that she must be suffering with this whole thing, too.

yet, she’s been reaching out to you, from the moment you left her dorm. she’s been trying to fix it, in some way. you never expected someone to care about you that much. your friends never did. even if you know she’s more than that. or was. it’s been a whole day and she is still doing what’s in her power to try fixing the mess she created. thinking about you, about things you like.

and all you can do is sigh because you know jesse is right. if you didn’t want to forgive her, not even a little, would you have accepted her gift? you know the answer to that.

thinking about what she could do to fix everything with you wasn’t easy at all. ellie had to literally sit down on her bed and write down a lot of ideas — 43 to be exact. and most of those were shit, like finishing the project all by herself so you wouldn’t have to do it.

where’s the fun in that? she would save you from seeing her again, yes. as she had in mind that you absolutely despised her at the moment, it would be a huge favor to you. but complete torture to her. and she still wanted you to like her again, so this idea had to go.

the atmosphere in her dorm was pretty shitty. she couldn’t hide the fact that she was crying to lila, which made the girl stare at her for, like, 50 minutes. non-stop. without saying a word, too. not that ellie was expecting her to, it was just… weird as fuck.

but then “what’s with all this crying today? you are freaking me out”

the cinnamon-haired girl looked up at her, furrowed brows and face drenched in tears. “you are such a comforting presence. fucking hell”

and lila giggled. like it really amused her. this fucking girl… “sorry. it’s just that i’ve never seen you cry in my whole life. does this have anything to do with that girl that was here yesterday?”

as ellie cries harder at the mention of you, her roomie nods, understanding. “right, so what happened? if you want to talk about it.”

honestly? ellie did. and she is glad that they talked because, after calling her a dumbass and many other things, lila actually gave her good advice. which helped her think about the two ideas she hoped would work because she couldn’t afford to actually lose you.

after a few hours, the first step was done and she couldn’t stop smiling and feeling the little feeling that was now blossoming on her chest: hope. after reading jesse’s text, telling her you accepted her gift.

which explains why she is now kicking her feet on the bed, giggling and ignoring how much of a fool she must be looking.

lila raises an eyebrow at the sudden happiness, contrasting to the conversation they had earlier. “whatever it is you are doing, never do it again.”

she rolls her eyes, still smiling “she accepted the weed!”

“who the fuck would deny free weed? anyway, i’m out again. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” she shoots a smirk in ellie’s direction — teasing, but there’s something in it that makes ellie want to vanish into her bedsheets.

you’ve already tried all the clothes in your fucking closet and nothing seems good enough. you hate this feeling of having to go somewhere you don’t know what to expect or what to wear to. you don’t want to overdress! or underdress! dina and jesse could have hinted you what to wear.

sighing, you wondered if ellie was going through this too — yes, in fact she changed her clothes four times before her friends dragged her out of her bedroom or she would be late. you just couldn’t stop thinking about her. like you’ve been doing all day. and all week.

yes, you are, indeed, still very sad and embarrassed. but a lot of other feelings are there too, making sure you can feel all of them at once. how thoughtful. the human mind is so great.

finally, you settle with an outfit that you like and feel comfortable in, too tired to keep overthinking everything. today was… draining. you just hope whatever it is that waits for you in the rooftop doesn’t make things worse. but something tells you it won’t.

as you leave your apartment, the cold breeze makes you shiver slightly. winter is almost coming, which makes you happy. you love everything about it, snow, the holidays, hot chocolate with marshmallows, boots, beanies. it’s just a very cozy season to you.

the way towards college is soothing, even if your heart drums in your ears loudly in anticipation. you really hope you can see ellie soon, even if you are afraid to do so. you live near the campus, so it doesn’t take too long until you are quickly climbing the stairs, aiming for the main building rooftop.

what you do realize is that the building is way more packed than it should be. as you reach the 4th floor, your eyes catch this big poster that you seemed to ignore before. you had to double check to know if you were seeing it right. the words ‘talent show’ written on it in big, bold letters. what the actual fuck.

you had totally forgotten that this was tonight. that’s because you didn’t really pay attention to these things, normally. and you don’t see why ellie would, either.

she’s nervously bouncing her knee as she seats on the parapet next to the stage. well, it is a small one, really. built exclusively for this event. she didn’t know that so many people would be there when she submitted her name last-minute. but now it’s too late to back off.

and when she sees you arriving the rooftop, searching for her, she knows she did the right thing. you don’t look at her right away. but then you do. and she’s already with her eyes locked on you, a soft smile on her lips. ellie couldn’t be more relieved to see that you actually came. that you are there, staring at her and she almost giggles when you bite back a smile. oh, you think you are so smooth.

you clear your throat. you are sad and mad and disappointed! act like it, damn. but it’s hard when you see those green eyes you like so much. you find a seat, one that is close to the cute stage. you wait for her to come and sit down next to you, furrowing your brows when you see her grabbing her guitar — which you haven’t noticed before, too lost on her pretty features — and walking to the stage. no fucking way.

there’s something else you notice now that you let your eyes roam through her figure. she’s wearing a deftones t-shirt, short sleeved. her tattoo on display. some grey loose jeans and all-stars. just like she would dress if she was at one of her shifts on firefly. but she’s not wearing a face mask and her mullet is down.

it’s her. really her, not hiding, not trying to go unnoticed. it’s like she’s telling you that she won’t be someone she’s not anymore. she’s being herself, not college ellie, not miller. just ellie williams.

your heart nearly stops. she’s all you can see, like there is just you and her there. you don’t even pay attention as someone introduces her as the first one to perform. you miss how the boy says that she actually asked to be the first one. she wanted to be there when you arrived at 8 o’clock.

and she is. sitting down at the center of the stage, her gaze never leaving yours. that you don’t miss. not even the tiniest moves she makes, you catch them all. your attention is solely on her, just like she craved it to be. it’s overwhelming. all ellie wants to do is close the distance between you. but she takes a deep breath, striking the first chords as she starts singing.

“talking away. i don’t know what i’m to say, i’ll say it anyway.”

it takes your breath away. her voice is so beautiful. you always thought so. how it would send shivers down your spine every time she talked. but hearing her sing? a whole other level.

“today’s another day to find you. shying away… i’ll be coming for your love, okay”

everything else have turned into white noise. it’s just you and her. she is not just singing to you, she is singing about you. you sit there, hands clutching the hem of your jacket, feeling your chest tighten with every word.

you don’t know what it is. maybe it’s the fact that she keeps looking directly at you the whole time. or how the lyrics sound so genuine coming out of her lips and carving your heart deeply. permanently. or if it’s how pretty she looks in the dim lights of the rooftop.

you just know that, in that moment, any doubts you could ever had about her are long gone. buried, forgiven.

because no one has ever made you feel so special and so cherished before. not like she’s doing right now.

the way you smile at her and the way you look at her are enough for her to keep singing ‘take on me’ by a-ha without any struggles. it’s coming from the bottom of her heart and all she feels in this moment is you. all her eyes can see is you. all her heart craves for is you. it’s always been you.

and it’s always been her. no matter what came with it, a boy’s name or her discreet persona in class. it was her all along.

she is the one you’ve fallen for.

posted earlier cause you asked here you go!! so… next chapter is also the last one. tell me what you are thinking i love to read your comments!

previous next

taglist!

thank you for the support babies, hope you enjoy it!

@marirxse @yashirawr @vahnilla @liztreez @hyperbabes @lybbay @coeurcanelle @desiretolive @b1uecatt @moonystoes @eriiwaiii2 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @uraesthete @machetegirl109 @snuffphiliaa @robinphobia @na0koz @ellies-real-wife @vivzzi @wtvm0m0 @lesoulew @violetszn

[tellingtell5]

Fire in These Hills: 《James Cook, skins x reader 》

James Cook x femreader

Summary: You made a choice out of fear, and now you’re stuck dealing with the fallout. You’ve been lost for a while, right on the edge of breaking—and all it takes is a look, a memory, to jump off the train.

A/N: i always start the same but… here’s this mess. i feel like everything i write about cook ends up a little bit tragic. -my poor sad-eyed boy.- hope this makes some kind of sense and that you can enjoy it.

p.s: i genuinely can’t write smutty scenes with cook without throwing in something clumsy, you know?

Thanks for reading, for the support, and I hope you enjoy it. let me know if it hit you in any way—your comments fill my little heart. thank you💛

Two storms don’t cancel each other out. They just burn louder.

You hated coming to this fucking flat. Every single time. It got under your skin like splinters ,sharp, itchy, impossible to ignore. Made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and your shoulders throb with tension you didn’t even know you were carrying.

So you just stood there, finger hovering near the buzzer, frozen. Couldn’t make yourself press it.

It always went like this. Every morning Loui’s name showed up on your screen, your stomach turned inside out. The nausea climbed your throat and didn’t let go 'til hours after you’d left the place.

You told yourself it’d be the last time. Every time. You’d walk in there, tell Loui you were done. No more runs, no more late-night favours, no more shit-stained errands for pennies and bruises. But something always came up. Your mum found you again when the money ran dry, looking at you like you owed her the whole fucking world. So you gave her what you could, kept the bare minimum to keep yourself alive. And then boom — back to square one, staring at a future so far off it didn’t even look like yours.

You closed your eyes and exhaled through your mouth, tried to slow the pulsing nerves.

Come on. You’ve done worse. You’ve done this. This ain’t new.

But just as your finger finally inched closer to the buzzer, the door creaked open with a snap. You didn’t even have time to brace yourself.

“Look who it fuckin’ is.”

Jason. His voice grated like cheap speakers turned too loud, and you felt your whole body tighten like a cornered rabbit. You could feel his eyes strip you down, slow and deliberate, not even pretending to be subtle.

“Jason,” you muttered. “You gonna let me in or we standin’ ‘ere all fuckin’ day?”

You knew how to use that voice: cool, flat, like you weren’t a second away from shitting it. Like bile wasn’t crawling up your throat just from being near the place.

He smiled, all teeth and no warmth. Moved aside just enough to make you squeeze past him, his arm still gripping the frame like he owned it. You stepped through, your legs jelly, his breath somewhere too close to your ear.

“Oi, what is it — you need an invite now, like some kinda vampire?”

You ignored him, walked straight for the living room, his voice slithering behind you like smoke.

“You know, I saw this film once, right? Vampires, yeah, they can’t come in unless you say so. Maybe you’re one o’ them, babe. Wouldn’t mind you suckin’ me off — I mean, suckin’ my blood. Know what I mean?”

You had something sharp to say, you always did, but it died on your tongue the second your eyes landed on him.

Those blue eyes you hadn’t seen since that night.

Everything in your brain short-circuited. The noise around you faded , the weed smoke, the piss-stained laughter, the clatter of bodies pretending to be alive. He was there, sat on the sofa, not talking to anyone. Watching. Trying not to be seen but filling the space like gravity.

Your heart hit the back of your ribs. Was it doing the same to him?

Time bent weird. Jason’s voice felt warped, like it was underwater. And your mind cracked open, past tangled with now.

Last time you saw Cook was that ridiculous “team-building” party Loui made everyone attend, like they weren’t pushing gear for a two-faced fuck who ran his empire out of a council flat. His lot were always fighting , over turf, over glances, over who breathed louder. You never felt like one of them, not really. You might’ve done the same dirt, but it weren’t your world.

You didn’t even remember how it started. you were nursing a warm drink in a kitchen littered with red cups and fag ends, and then he was there, passing you something, his expression quiet but charged. Didn’t say much. Just looked at you, and for a second you didn’t feel like someone’s employee or someone's debt. You felt like someone. Just a girl. Who was being seen.

You’d barely exchanged more than nods in the corridor before that night. You knew his rep. He knew yours. That was it. But there was something, a simmer under his silence, something coiled. You’d even said it to him, half a joke, you can’t remember the words exactly. Just that you saw through him. That he moved too quietly for someone so loud. That he looked like a fight waiting to happen.

He’d laughed, barely, like his body had forgotten how.

And now, looking at him on that sofa, knees spread, one hand twitching on his thigh , you felt it again. That same tight pull in your gut. You stared too long at his fingertips, and fuck, you remembered what they felt like on your skin.

You feel the memory like a bruise, not fresh, but not healed either.

you’d ended up in a bathroom with him. You don’t do that sort of thing. Not with lads you don’t know, ones who grunt more than they talk. But that night, you did.

You can still feel his fingers digging into your waist, the way the sink pressed into your spine, pain pushed down by the way he moved against you, fast, desperate, like he needed to erase the space between you with friction. Didn’t care about the fists on the door. Just the way he groaned in your ear, like he wanted you to be the only one who heard him fall apart.

You swallow hard. Try to shake it. It didn’t mean anything. He went off after. Back to the party. You saw him chatting up some girl. Just a fuck, yeah?

So why can’t you forget the weight of his body pressing into yours?

“...And that’s why Blade’s better, innit.”

You blinked. Jason was beside you again, waiting for an answer. you've not heard a word. Just Cook's breath, heavy and hot in your memory.

“I dunno what you’re on about, Jason. Don’t watch that shite.”

Of course you knew what he meant. You just didn’t want to give him another second of your voice.

You scanned the room. The other sofa was full, two lads and a girl off their tits, holding PlayStation controllers that weren’t even turned on.

Only space left was next to him.

Cook clocked it too. Shifted slightly, closing his legs to give you room, subtle like. You sat, tense, drawing your limbs in, like not touching him might keep you sane.

Didn’t stop you stealing glances. His elbow rested on the armrest, fingers curled at his chin, eyes somewhere miles away. When he looked at you sideways, his jaw tensed for half a second.

“Hey,” he said. Barely audible.

You opened your mouth, but the back door slammed, hard.

Loui.

He stormed in mid-shout, phone at his ear like the other person could see the fury in his face. He radiated that rage, the kind that made your whole spine snap straight. Beside you, Cook stiffened too.

““Yeah? Well sort it, or I fuckin’ will!”

He ended the call with a jab of his thumb, stared at the phone like he wanted to burn it. Then he clocked you both, half-turning on the couch to stare at him.

Smile. Big, fake, teeth bared.

“There they are. My two little fuckin’ soldiers.”

He gestures to the office behind him. Wants you inside.

You get up first. Just wanna get this over with. Get away from the heat prickling your skin every time Cook looks at you. You feel him behind you. Feel the warmth of his body, like a memory set on repeat.

You sit opposite Loui, at that desk he thinks makes him look legit. It’s cheap wood. Doesn’t make him anything but dangerous.

Cook sat beside you. Close. Shoulder almost brushing yours. You held your breath. Could feel the panic nipping at your neck like cold sweat with teeth.

You had to get out. There had to be another way. This couldn’t be your life. Couldn’t keep waking up feeling like you were already dead.

A voice cut through it.

“You alright?”

He’d leaned in. His face inches from yours. Brow creased, soft frown like he was actually wondering. You caught a whiff of him , soap, smoke, that half-assed cologne that fades the second it hits skin. His voice shouldn’t have felt like comfort. But it did.

The glint was still there in his eyes. Danger, barely held back. A quiet before something wild.

You nodded, automatic. Something in him echoed something in you. That storm under the skin. The one you chained up every fucking day. And now, here it was, sitting beside you like a mirror.

His breath hit your cheek, warm. It lit your skin up like a warning.

Then Loui clapped his hands once, sharp, dragging you both to attention.

He sat down behind his desk, arms wide, fingers laced together like a wannabe godfather. His grin tightened. Anger still fizzing under it.

“I called you both ‘cause we’ve got a right mess on our hands.”

He nodded as he spoke, like doing that gave his words more weight somehow. Then he spread his fingers on the table and pointed straight at you, head tilted, eyes squinting at you sideways like the effort of focusing made him tired.

"I know you’ve been workin’ for me for years, love. Earned your stripes, got yourself a bit of a name... but what happened the other day? That shit don’t fly."

You blinked a few times, trying to sharpen your thoughts, swallowing around that feeling again,  like there’s a blade tucked just beneath your chin, pressing soft but steady. A warning.

You didn’t react. Not yet. You didn’t let the fear show, even though your palms were already damp, your pulse a drumbeat behind your ribs.

"Loui, last week was a mistake. I thought it was sorted. I paid out of my own fuckin’ pocket."

He raised one hand, slow, like a priest giving a blessing, or a command to a dog.

You stopped talking.

You hated yourself for it.

"The bloke’s still fumin’. Says you shorted him. Claims you brought half the gear and then bounced."

Now the anger came. Hot. Fast. Swallowing every other feeling. The fear from the stairwell. The flush of seeing Cook again. All of it burned down to ash in a second. You took a slow breath through your nose, willing yourself not to explode. Not here. Not yet.

Because Loui, that fucker, he lit matches just to watch you flinch.

With your voice flat, calm as you could fake it, you spoke.

"That bloke tried paying me half of what the shit was worth. Laughed in my face when I told him it weren’t a fuckin’ car boot sale. He paid for half. I gave him half."

Loui nodded, like he was listening — like he gave a fuck. But you knew that look. He’d already made up his mind. There was nothing you could say that would change it.

"Well, my good friend says you didn’t hear him out. He wants the rest. And since you were such a bitch about it, you’ll be going back in — on a lead."

Your whole body locked up. You pulled away from the back of the chair, fingers white-knuckled around the armrests. It didn’t help.

"What?"

Loui laughed. Like your confusion was a joke just for him. Then he tilted his head towards Cook.

"Cooko’s goin’ with you. To make sure you play nice. Make sure our client gets his fairytale fuckin’ ending."

You felt Cook stiffen beside you. Barely. Subtle. His body still looked slack, easy. But his nostrils flared. His jaw flexed. His shoulders squared a bit. You caught it. You always caught shit like that.

He didn’t like it either.

"So let me get this straight," you snapped, voice tight, "I make one mistake in years — a mistake that ain’t even mine — and now I need a fuckin’ babysitter?"

"He’s not a babysitter," Loui said, voice oozing with fake patience. "He’s an insurance policy. For my money. And come on, love. We both know you’ve got a temper. Short fuse. Like that time with Michael — remember? He asked to close the deal at his place and you went off."

"He said he’d only sign if I gave him a blowjob."

"And he paid for that attitude, didn’t he?"

He raised his eyebrows, like he was giving you credit for a job well done.

You wanted to spit.

"So why send me back to that cunt, then?" you said, pointing at Cook.

"Because lately you’ve been off the rails. Everyone’s noticed. And it worries me, darling. Worries me that your little outbursts are gonna blow the rest of us to fuckin’ bits."

He smiled.

"Cook’s calm. Loyal. Doesn’t let shit get to him."

A bitter laugh broke in your throat. Came out your nose sharp and dry. Calm, yeah. You glanced at Cook again. He hadn’t said a word. Just watching. That unreadable look in his eyes.

Didn’t let shit get to him. What a joke.

You remembered how he bit your lip the second your mouths met. How he fucked you hard and desperate against that sink, like he was seconds away from shattering. That wasn’t calm. That was chaos. Contained, just barely. Like yours.

"You gonna take the job," Loui said, leaning back, "or you gonna keep barkin’ like a bitch in my office?"

For a second, you thought about showing him what real chaos looked like. Thought about flipping the whole desk, smashing his smug little face into the wall. But you didn’t.

You just let him see the fire in your eyes. Let him feel what you could do if you wanted.

"No, sir. Nothin’ more to say, sir."

You stood. Rage crackling under your skin.

Loui laughed behind you. Loud, mocking. Turned to Cook.

"Women, eh?"

Cook raised an eyebrow. His lips parted, slow — like they’d been sealed shut too long. But before he could speak, you whistled from the hallway.

"Oi! Let’s go, boy!" you shouted.

It was the same tone someone might use with a mutt. And when he looked over, you smacked your thigh and made a kissy sound like you were calling a fuckin’ Labrador.

His mouth fell open. Stunned.

He shook his head but got up anyway. Silent. Unbothered, or pretending to be.

You weren’t waiting’.

You stormed down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, already lighting your cigarette with that half-dead stone lighter you always carried. But it wasn’t catching. Sparks fizzled out useless.

He caught up just as you muttered a curse under your breath. Without saying a word, he pulled out his lighter and handed it over, eyes on the pavement, leg bouncing with restless energy.

You hesitate. Just a beat. Watching him out the corner of your eye, trying to figure out what the fuck to make of all this.

Then you reach out, slow, take the lighter from his fingers. Just a second — a brush of skin against skin, but it’s hotter than fire. Like something electric buzzes under your ribs.

You don’t know what it is. Don’t like not knowing.

The anger’s still sat heavy in your throat, so when you mutter, "Cheers," it sounds like you're chewing broken glass.

“Come on.”

He says it without looking at you. Hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched forward like he doesn’t care if you follow or not. But you do. Even if it's just to prove something. You ain't even sure what.

You walk behind him, a couple of steps back, and you know — you know — he’s glancing over his shoulder now and then, just to make sure you're still there. He jerks his chin toward a car parked up against the kerb. Doesn’t say a word. Just gets in, driver’s side, like that’s that.

You climb in too. The second you shut the door, you’re hit with the smell of him — strong, overwhelming. Like he’s been living inside this thing for weeks. Your head goes all fuzzy. It shouldn’t make you feel safe, not with everything you know about him, about yourself. But your brain ties it back to that moment. That night. The way your toes curled when he was in you just right. The sweat on his neck. His mouth on your skin.

You take a breath. Try to calm it. But it’s him again, pouring into your lungs.

You look out the window. Focus on the street, the people. Anything but him.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You don’t get like this. No one gets under your skin like that. You made sure of it. You built yourself like a fortress, brick by brick.

And now, one night — one fucking mistake — and he's rattling the whole foundation.

You think about walking away. Again. Telling Loui to shove it, telling Cook to fuck off with his quiet eyes and his quiet mouth and that storm you keep seeing underneath.

But you're still in the car. Still breathing him in.

He must’ve known before you did. Loui must’ve told Cook what was what. Because he doesn’t look surprised. Just... uncomfortable. The way his fingers twitch on the wheel, like they’re waiting to do something. Waiting for you to.

It hits you then. Loui’s not wrong. Not completely.

You're unraveling. Slowly. Like you’re drowning but too proud to thrash.

That little girl who ran scared made a choice once, and now you’re stuck living in the bones of it.

And then he speaks.

"I'm not a fuckin’ dog."

You look at him. Fast.

He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other bringing a cig to his mouth. Jaw clenched. Eyes straight ahead.

You squint a bit. Not sure what to say. At the lights, he turns and looks at you properly.

“Back there. You whistled. Like I was some pitbull or summat. I’m not a fuckin’ dog.”

It’s the most words you’ve heard from him in one go. It stuns you a little. That voice. Rough but quiet. Like gravel under boots.

That fire in his eyes — the one you saw the night he bent you over a cracked bathroom sink — it’s closer to the surface now.

Something in your chest sparks. You don’t want it to. But it does.

"Then don’t act like one," you say.

“What?"

But he doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay locked on the road and you wish—God, you wish—he’d look at you like he was ready to burn the whole fucking world down, like he wasn’t scared of the same wreckage he must see staring back at him when he looks at you.

"I’m sayin’, Loui tells you to jump and you don’t even ask how high."

You scoff, turn your head away, lips curled in disgust. But you can’t help it, you shift in your seat, your whole body angled towards him now, one hand braced on the dashboard like you’re ready to climb inside his skull.

"Does Loui even know the mess you’ve got inside you?"

His knuckles go bone-white on the steering wheel. His jaw clenches. It’s not confusion, it’s pure fucking annoyance.

"'Course not. ‘Cause if he’d really seen—"

"You ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what you’re talkin’ about."

It’s probably just adrenaline, but it feels like the car’s moving faster, the streets blurring past, like the whole thing’s matching the way your heart’s thundering against your ribcage.

"It was the first time in a long time you let it out, yeah? That night."

Silence. Says more than he’d ever admit.

"Careful."

He spits it out like it burns him, eyes still fixed on the road, but you can feel the electricity rolling off him, like something’s about to blow. You want it to. You ache for it. You wanna see it break free, because maybe if he does—maybe then—you won’t be the only one barely holding it together.

The car pulls into a back alley, tucked away from nosy eyes, not far from where the whole deal went sideways. He kills the engine. Still doesn’t look at you. He just sits there, waiting like he’s some loyal dog, waiting for your next command. The way he slides back into that role pisses you right off. You were this close—this fucking close—to seeing the real him, the version that ain’t all locked up behind someone else’s orders.

You grip the door handle, seething, and the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"Let’s just get this over with. The sooner we do, the sooner Loui can shove his hand back up your arse and pull your strings like the good little puppet you are."

You push the door open, but before you can step out, his hand snaps around your wrist. It’s not even tight, but it pins you there like he’s dragging you back with everything he’s got. You glance from the place where your skin meets his, up to his face—and there’s no rage. No fury. Just a kind of bone-deep tiredness that knocks the wind right outta you. It’s the first time you really notice it—that his eyes ain’t just wild, they’re sad. Fucking tragic, really. And it grips something in your chest you weren’t ready for.

You sink back into the car, pull the door shut, but his hand stays right where it is, warm and steady on your skin, like letting go might finish him off for good. He shakes his head, slow, eyes unfocused, staring at some pointless spot on the dash. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out.

You wait.

You think about covering his hand with yours, guiding him through whatever he’s trying to choke out—but you’re frozen in place. Caught on the way he’s clinging to you, not to hold you back, but to anchor himself. The way his scent’s still clinging to you. The way you’re just now seeing how slumped his shoulders really are, how silence ain’t just control—it’s exhaustion.

"I’m not his puppet. I’m not his fuckin’ dog." His gaze snaps to yours, searching your face like he’s begging for some kind of sign—like jumping off a cliff and praying the water’s deep enough. Like maybe you’re safe.

"I can’t be that person. I know what you’re doin’—but you don’t get it. You don’t know what you’re pokin’ at. Fuck—I don’t even know anymore."

"So what? Easier to let other people tell you who to be?"

His hand loosens on your wrist, like he’s only just realised he’s still got hold of you. For a second, it looks like he nods.

"It’s not that simple. It’s not—"

"Then what the fuck is it, Cook? Why do I feel like there’s someone else in there? Someone I saw that night at the party? Why do I—"

"Stop."

His eyes dart to the windscreen, fixed on the dark alley like the answer’s hiding out there somewhere.

"No. I can’t stop. ‘Cause the only fucking time I’ve felt anything real lately—anything that actually made sense—was at that goddamn party. Not even the bathroom. Before that. When you looked at me like I was real. Like maybe you were too."

You swallow hard. Your throat’s tight.

"That’s pathetic, innit?" You laugh, sharp and bitter. "That the highlight of my year was some look from a stranger in a room full of cunts?"

His jaw clenches.

You turn to him fully now. Let him see the storm in you. Let him feel it.

"I think about it, y’know. That night. Your mouth. Your hands. The way you pushed me like you were angry—like you’d seen the disaster inside me and you wanted to tear it out with your own."

His breathing’s ragged now.

"Shut up." But you hold his stare, two storms colliding. Neither of you backing down. You’ve both let it loose now. No more pretending.

"I can’t be that person anymore ‘cause I fuck everything up. And yeah—it’s easier when someone tells you who to be. It’s easier to forget all the shit that haunts you when you’re busy bein’ someone else."

His breathing’s gone erratic too. His chest’s rising and falling fast, his face so close now you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin.

"And you don’t get to tell me I’m two people when you’re exactly the fuckin’ same."

Your heart’s in your throat now. Blood pounding in your ears. Dizzy with it.

"What?"

"Oh, you thought you were the only one who sees people? Newsflash—you’re just as fucked as me. I’ve seen it. You’re a storm in a fuckin’ bottle, all that chaos dressed up as calm. Bet no one’s ever had the balls to rip the lid off and watch what happens, yeah? Except me. But that don’t give you the right to fuck other people over."

For the first time in a long time, you actually feel present. Like his words just blew the lock off some door you’d nailed shut years ago. You’d built this front, a fortress to contain the mess, the noise, the chaos that threatened to swallow you whole. You’d wrapped it up in fake calm, pretended there was order in the chaos.

And he—he tore through it with a few looks and a filthy bathroom fuck. Got right to the centre of your storm and didn’t flinch.

That’s what dragged you to him, right? Not just that he’s the same kind of broken, but that he saw it and still dove straight in. He didn’t just survive it, he fed it, threw more chaos on the fire.

You feel that spark crackling under your skin again, but this time it’s not anger or confusion, it’s something else. Something hot and reckless.

You don’t know what else to do with it. You don’t know how to hold it in. You need to know he’s still there, still tethered to you in this.

So you grab him by the collar and yank him forward until your mouths crash together. It’s not pretty, it’s brutal, messy, almost painful. You slam your eyes shut because you can’t bear to see him pull away. For a second, a horrible, heart-sinking second, you think you’ve got it wrong. That maybe he thinks you’re too fucked, even for him.

But then he’s kissing you back, desperate and hard, his hand sliding up your face to grip your hair tight, tearing a ragged sound from your throat that he immediately swallows with his tongue.

You don't even think, you just move. Climbing onto him like your body’s been starving for this, for him, your thighs bracketing his hips, palms pressed to his chest, feeling the frantic pound of his heartbeat hammering back against your skin like it's synced to yours.

His hands find your waist the second you settle, rough, frantic, fingers digging in like he's terrified you'll vanish. And when his mouth crashes into yours, it’s raw, messy, seething with everything unsaid, everything you've both been choking down for months.

You drown in it.

His lips are rough, hungry, his teeth scraping yours, breath ragged like he can’t control it, like every part of him is breaking apart under your hands, and fuck, you want him broken. You want him stripped bare the same way he’s stripped you with every look, every word, every time he’s made you feel like you're the only other person drowning in the same storm.

Your hips grind down, the sharp, aching press of him thick and hard beneath you, and his whole body jolts, this guttural sound ripping out of his chest that hits you right between the legs, molten and reckless.

It lights you up, burns through the wreckage under your ribs, the way he’s cracked you open and seen all the ugly, chaotic parts of you you’ve tried to bury.

You’re sick of burying them.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you whisper, your voice shaking against his mouth, words spilling like they’ve been trapped behind your teeth for months. “That night. The way you looked at me, like you saw everything, and you didn’t run.”

His hands are everywhere now, sliding under your shirt, splaying wide over your back, dragging down your spine like he's trying to memorise you, claim every inch before you combust.

He whines when you grind down again, slow and hard, rolling your hips to press your soaked knickers against him, and the sound is so desperate, so raw, it shoots straight to your core.

"You’re noisy," you murmur against his skin, smirking, hips rolling again just to pull more of those pretty, needy sounds out of him.

"Shut up," he groans, but it’s weak, falling apart beneath you, his hands shaking as they drag under your shirt, finding skin. "Fuck—d’you even know—how long I’ve wanted—?"

"Yeah." You cut him off with another kiss, deep, messy, biting his tongue as you press against him, feeling him hard and straining between your legs. "Same, Cook.

“Jesus… fuck…” His voice cracks, head tipping back, throat exposed, eyes squeezed shut like he's trying to hold himself together. His cock twitches under you, straining against his jeans, leaking heat into every nerve ending.

Your fingers fumble between you, popping buttons, dragging zips down with trembling hands, the sharp edge of anticipation clawing through your chest like glass. His jeans shoved just enough down, your knickers torn to the side, the car too small, the space cramped, but neither of you fucking care.

You line him up, your slick dripping onto him, your whole body tightening with the stretch, the need to take him, to be filled until you can’t think, can’t breathe.

You try. God, you really fucking try.

You rock your hips, pushing down slowly, biting your lip as you fight to take him, but the sharp press of the steering wheel digs into your spine, forcing your body at the wrong angle. You can’t sink onto him properly. The space is too tight, the car too cramped, your body straining with frustration, your muscles trembling with the effort.

You huff a breath, half-laugh, half-growl, the heat buzzing hot under your skin.

“Fuck—there’s no fucking room—the wheel’s tryna snap my spine—”

But the second the words leave your mouth, his head jerks up, eyes blown wide, his hands clenching at your hips like he’s misheard you, like you’ve just confirmed every filthy thing he’s ever thought about himself.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice goes low, cocky, wrecked, like he’s already halfway gone. “Can’t handle me, yeah?  Too big for ya, babe? That it?”

You stare at him, breathless, the burn between your thighs aching, and it clicks what he’s just assumed, but you don’t rush to correct him.

Because the smirk that curls his lips, the way his chest heaves under your palms, the glint of that boyish, feral pride, it fucking does something to you.

Still, you roll your eyes, breath shaky as you brace yourself on his shoulders.

“No, you twat—there’s no space—I can’t move—” you pant, laughing under your breath, the frustration bleeding into something fond, almost teasing. “The wheel’s in my fuckin’ back.”

But he’s not listening.

“Oi—move, then—fuck—lemme—” His hand fumbles blindly for the lever by the seat, slapping around in a panic like every second he’s not buried inside you is physically painful.

“Cook—” you try to protest, but he yanks it hard, and the whole seat jolts back so fast it nearly throws you both—and without warning, you sink down onto him—all the way.

You gasp, sharp and breathless, your whole body seizing with the stretch. The thick, brutal press of him splits you open, fills you to the hilt in one unforgiving slide, your walls clenching tight around him, hot and fluttering, the ache so good it scrapes the air from your lungs.

Your head drops against his shoulder, your breath stolen.

“F-fuck—” you choke out, your nails digging into his chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth. “You’re—fuck—you’re actually bigger than I remembered—”

The noise he makes—Jesus—it’s a broken little thing, a ragged, desperate sound that shudders out of him, like he’s trying so hard to hold back but you’ve just shattered whatever control he had left.

“Told ya,” he breathes, his voice shredded, trembling, barely there. His hands tighten, bruising on your hips, his cock pulsing deep inside you like he’s been waiting to be right here since the day he met you. “Knew you could handle me—fuckin’ knew it—knew you could take me—”

You shudder, the burn still blooming deep inside, the feel of him too much, perfect, like he’s carved a space inside you that only he can fill.

You try to move, hips rolling, slow and deliberate, but the stretch is so sharp, so overwhelming, your body clenches instinctively around him, pleasure and pain blurring into one heavy, molten ache.

His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as he groans, a low, raw sound ripped from his throat that vibrates through every inch of you.

It cracks something loose in your chest, the way his voice falls apart under you, the way he lets himself feel this, lets himself fall apart for you.

You grind down harder, pushing the limit, feeling him drag along every aching, sensitive spot inside, the burn so good it nearly undoes you.

“Fuckin’—Christ, babe—don’t—don’t stop—” His voice is wrecked, cracking wide open as his hips stutter up into you, deeper, desperate, his moans falling apart, noisy, shameless.

Your thoughts blur, your pulse pounding in your ears, your skin hypersensitive, every nerve raw as you ride him slow, deep, deliberate, forcing him to feel every second of it.

The car rocks beneath you, windows fogging, the heat unbearable, suffocating—but you want more.

You slam your hips down, sharp, taking him to the hilt again, and he shouts, loud, filthy, his hands scrambling for purchase, breath broken, voice rasping your name like a prayer and a curse.

“You feel that?” you whisper, biting at his ear, hips rolling, walls clenching down tight around him, molten and slick and suffocating. “That’s what you’ve been waiting for, Cook—what we’ve both been choking on. “Go on, then . Show me what happens when you come undone.”

He moans, high and wrecked, so desperate it punches through you like lightning.

“Couldn’t stop thinking—’bout ya,” he chokes, voice wrecked, hips bucking helpless under yours, lost in the heat, the noise, the ache. “Dreamt of this—dreamt of you—fuck—wreckin’ me—”

You chase the burn, the sharp heat building in your belly, your body tightening around him with every grind, every deep, aching thrust, your release boiling under your skin, teeth clenched, heart racing.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, sharp, unbearable, walls clenching so hard around him he groans, loud, guttural, his hips jerking, face twisted in bliss and wreckage as he spills inside you.

The sound of him, those breathy, broken moans, stays tangled in your chest as you collapse onto him, hearts racing, your body trembling, filled to the brim, burning with the ache of him still pulsing inside.

You stay there, tangled together, wrecked, raw, alive, for the first time in forever, the storm quiet for just a moment.

You don’t move. Neither of you does.

Still tangled up, your chest pressed to his, your body heavy with the aftershocks, the stretch of him still buried inside you, pulse still racing under your skin.

Your lips trail lazy, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of his neck, tasting the salt, the chaos, the version of him no one gets to see, except maybe you.

He’s still breathing hard, chest heaving under your palms, eyes half-lidded, flushed, looking utterly wrecked in the best fucking way.

“So that’s what it takes…” you murmur against his throat, pressing another kiss there, slow, teasing. “That’s what I gotta do to drag the real Cook to the surface?”

A rough laugh rumbles low in his chest, cracking through the haze, and for a second—it’s him. That version from way before the mess, the boy that broke every rule just to feel something, the smart-mouthed, cocky little shit with the chip on his shoulder and the devil in his eyes.

But the moment shatters when your phone lights up on the dash.

Loui.

Your heart stutters, all that warmth, all that messy, reckless freedom bleeding out of you in an instant. Your stomach knots tight, pulse skipping. It’s like he’s everywhere, even here, inside this cramped fucking car, inside your skin, yanking you back into the shit.

You slap a hand over Cook’s mouth before he can make a sound, your eyes sharp, throat tight.

His brows shoot up, but he stays quiet, lips twitching under your palm, still flushed, wrecked, his cock twitching inside you.

You answer, speaker on, your hand trembling only slightly as you hold the phone between you both.

“Where the fuck are you?!” Loui’s voice explodes through the speaker, all spit and venom, tearing through the fragile quiet. “Deal’s goin’ to shit, you’re late”.

Your jaw clenches. The fear morphs, curdles into something hotter, heavier. Anger.

It burns low in your chest. The way Loui snaps, like he owns you. The way every time you almost remember who the fuck you are, he drags you straight back down.

Not now.

Cook shifts beneath you, hips rocking up ever so slightly, enough to drag his cock deeper inside, enough to make your body pulse and tighten, and the sound nearly slips out of him—desperate, rough.

You grin, slow, sharp, wicked.

Your hips roll, deliberate, dragging your cunt over him, squeezing tight, and his moan rips free, loud, guttural, completely unfiltered.

You take your hand off his mouth, just as that gorgeous, needy sound breaks out into the speaker.

There’s dead silence for half a second.

“The fuck was that?” Loui spits, rage building, the control slipping from his voice now. “You serious? You’re fuckin’ him? You’ve lost the plot—you think you can fuck around with him and still sort my business?”

Your smile cuts sharper.

“Business?” you echo, grinding your hips down again, Cook groaning helpless under you, his eyes glassy, blown wide with lust and confusion, still wrecked from your little stunt. “No, Loui. I’m done. Keep your deals, your bullshit, your control.”

You lean in, voice dropping, cool and lethal.

““I’m off with your fuckin’ safety net, Loui. Sort your own mess for once.”

Before he can answer, you hang up, tossing the phone to the side like it never existed.

Cook stares up at you, eyes wide, breathless, still panting, hands loose on your hips like he’s forgotten how to hold onto anything.

“You’re off your fuckin’ head,” he mutters, wrecked, lips curling in that sideways grin that’s all teeth and disbelief—and a flicker of something else. Something like admiration buried under the mess. “Proper mental.”

You shrug, the chaos still simmering hot under your skin, heart hammering wild in your chest, a fire sparking somewhere deep down where the fear used to live.

“So?” Your voice is steady now, low, raw with everything you’ve been choking on for months. “Let’s fuck off. You. Me.”

He blinks, brows lifting slightly like he doesn’t trust what he’s hearing, like no one’s ever actually offered him that choice before.

“What… what the fuck do we do now?” His voice cracks on the end, rough, uncertain, but there’s hope in it too, buried beneath the scars.

You lean in, noses brushing, your words a quiet promise against his lips.

“Start livin’ for real, Cook.”

tag list: @jimmys-tiara

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay, in reality this is a very small moment between them, but it is different and gives everyone a little background on our favorite pornstar. they’ll get there I promise ⭐️

It had been like any other night the two of you had together. A few hours of nasty and brutal sex with him finishing by painting your insides white. It was hard to say why the two of you were falling for one another as the two of you had only been fucking and nothing else. Sure, both of you were very physically attracted to each other, but had yet to really learn anything else about one another besides each other’s sexual needs. He had been struggling within himself to try and get to know you more, not that he didn’t want to, but because he was scared of opening up to someone when everyone else in his life had burned him.

But as he watched you slide your shorts on, he blurted it out before he could take it back. “Do you, uh.. smoke?” He asked, scratching his head. He hadn’t had a normal conversation with a girl since maybe high school, and felt almost embarrassed that he didn’t even remember how to be flirty. He was so use to just bluntly asking a girl to fuck, and not caring about anything else, besides getting pussy, this was going to be hard for him.

You tried your best to hide the shocked look on your face as he asked the question, his normal response after the two of you fucked was usually ‘I’ll text you later.’ You couldn’t help but giggle softly, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I’m not rolling.” You said, watching him let out a genuine laugh. Something that made you feel an overwhelming amount of butterflies.

Sitting on his couch and not fucking was something entirely different for the both of you. You had been wanting to get to know Rafe for a while now, but he seemed so closed off that you knew you’d get rejected. He had been defending you on social media, and making comments to you that you were his angel, and that your pussy was made for his dick, as well as the statement that stuck out to you, which was “What are you doing to me?”

“So, what made you get into the fucked up world of porn?” Rafe asked, blunt between his lips as he lit the end of it. It was a simple question, but something he had been wanting to know.

“Oh.. well. I started an Only Fans, kinda just for fun and to gain followers I started posting on Twitter. One of my videos went viral and I was contacted by an agent, asking if I’d ever considering to professional porn. Maybe it was a little desperate, but I love sex and never been camera shy.” You said with a shrug. It hadn’t exactly been your career goal, and you knew you wanted more one day, such as a husband and kids.

Rafe couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as he blew out a thick cloud of smoke. Your reason was so much more simpler than his, and it made him fucking terrified to even begin to his story. As he handed the blunt that he had rolled to you, his stomach dropped when he heard you ask the same question he had just asked you. Oh great..

“I love to fuck, and knew I had a big dick.” He said, nonchalantly. It was an asshole of an answer, he knew it. He just couldn’t seem to tell you how it started and how it led up to him being the way he was now. He hadn’t opened up to anyone about his past, and that was one big reason he was so brutal, because of the pent up hurt and anger he had. What you didn’t know was his cocaine addiction had gotten so out of control that he had stolen a large amount of money from his father to get more to fuel his fiend. He had gotten into porn industry at first for some quick money, he knew he was attractive, loved pussy and was well hung. It was his first scene filming with a well known female actress that had been in the scene for a long time that kicked off his career. He had completely dominated her, and the addicting feeling he got from treating someone so brutally during sex, was an entirely new high. He had traded one addiction to another, and he got paid real well, especially the more popularity he gained. At one time he didn’t know anything else but living off his wealthy father and once didn’t know what it meant to own things for himself. Now he had everything he could ever want. His own place, a couple nice cars, and a job he really did love. Or so he thought he did, until he met you. He didn’t know you if he was being honest, but knew there was something there than he wanted more of. Maybe even… needed.

No matter how arrogant he was, or how attractive, or how good he fucked, he was still lonely at the end of the day. His family had disowned him, meaning he had lost one person in particular he was very close to and that was his youngest sister, Wheezie. His friends he once had, had gone off to do things better such as become doctors and lawyers. He had lost everyone, and making the step to become close to someone again was very hard for him. He wanted it though, and the more he saw you, the more he kept thinking about retiring his name in the porn world.

You had always been good at reading people and watching Rafe sit there and think, you knew there was more to the story. More than anything, did you want him. Even if you didn’t know him well, you felt a connection that couldn’t be ignored. Handing him back the blunt, you took a small sigh. “I don’t think that’s the entire reason.” You said softly, being honest with him for the first time. “But maybe you’ll tell me more one day.” You hoped he did, because as addicted as you were to the sex, you were begging to break his wall down.

Rafe wasn’t use to someone calling him out, and if it were anyone else he would have probably snapped, but with you it was little boost of confidence he needed to start being more open with you. “Maybe my angel, but in due time.” His tone softer than usual. He was Rafe Cameron though, and a knowing smirk ran across his face. “Keep lookin at me like that, and I’m gonna fuckin rail you again.” He said, and despite the grin you knew he was being serious. Him calling you ‘my angel’ definitely had your pussy fluttering.

He wasn’t perfect, but it was a baby step in the right direction of him finally making you his girl.

[kukustreehouse]

MAYBE ITS FATE?

・❥・Shin Asakura x reader

{VERY SHORT AND VERY AWKWARD >_<}

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Business was slow today.

But to be fair, it was a rainy monday.

Lu was asleep somewhere and Sakamoto stepped out with his family for a bit. So, with no customers coming in and no one to talk to, Shin occupied his time by watching the raindrops race each other. Eventually, that got boring, so he made paper airplanes out of any paper he could find; post-it notes, regular paper, even old flyers.

The more the time ticked, the more he felt his motivation leave his body. He felt like he was a kid again stuck at the lab to do whatever minus the people he could bother. A sigh escaped his mouth before he leaned against the wall behind the cash register, eyes closed.

‘Oh, a convenience store, perfect!’

Swiftly, he opened his eyes and returned to his typical spot. It was about time he got something to actually do. The moment you walked in was the moment he questioned everything about himself, from inside and out. His sight was glued onto your every move. Anyone else would assume you’re stealing something by how much he stared! But honestly, could you blame him? The way how your h/c hair still managed to look flawless in this kind of weather, your sense in fashion, your beautiful s/c skin. Everything about you caught his full attention.

When you finished picking out your items, you approached him with a small smile on your face; greeting him with a soft “Hello!” as you placed the items down on the counter. He blinked before turning red.

“A-Ah, hey! My bad, I uh, spaced out!” he stammered. You laughed gently, reassuring him that you didn't take offense. As he rang up your things, you took a peek at the downpour outside.

“Gloomy day we’re having huh?” you added to the conversation.

He placed his hand on the back of his neck before chuckling.

“Geez, tell me about it…” He sighed, “And it’s a monday too, just horrible!”

You laughed again. ‘I’m glad I stopped by here, this guy is making my day much better…and he’s cute.’ You thought to yourself as you watched him put your things in a bag. Shin became flustered again. Gosh he felt like a pot boiling over! An attractive person- heavensent probably, complimenting him.

“Hopefully your day gets better.” He sputtered out, trying to keep his cool as he slid the bag to you.

“How much do I pay?”

“Ah, right! It’s 10 dollars.”

You huffed out of adoration. As you took out your wallet to hand him the money, you silently cringed at your impulsive thoughts;

‘What if I gave him my phone number then leave? That would be weird…I wouldn’t wanna make him uncomfortable… a guy like him probably has a lover already.’

That was when you remembered.

“Wait, you told me you hoped my day would get better- How’d you know my day was bad?”

Shin gulped. Sweat began racing down his face and he failed to hold eye contact. He was selling! How embarrassing. There's no coming back from this one, huh?

“Your tone kinda gave it away…it sounded as if you were forcing it to be mellow.” he explained off the top of his head (Which was complete bullshit. It was either that or come out as a clairvoyance.)

‘My tone..? Is it really that obvious?’ you shook it off, putting your questions behind you and focusing on the real world; storing your wallet back where it came from and getting ready to say your goodbyes.

Shin went to war with his mind. There was no way he was gonna stand by and let someone like you walk away without his contacts!

“You know, I would love to see you more,” He called out. You turned around to see him writing with a pen on a post it note, before holding it out for you. “Here’s my number, call me sometime, ‘kay?”

Truly, you were at a loss for words. At this point, you had a face of a barbie doll with how long your smile was staying on your face.

“Will do!” You chirped, promptly taking the post it note and putting it in your pocket. After you left, Shin let out an exhale of relief, smirking to himself as he thought about you.

“Man, Sakamoto would be proud.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

[priceinjection]

Body Shots

I woke up in a cold sweat to write this and it went from a short little paragraph to a four part series, please enjoy

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Pt.1 | Pt.2 |

CW: Drinking (duh), drunk sex, (oral male!receiving), exhibition (kinda? In a loose term), mentions of Simon sharing you with the team

The first time you suggested body shots you were in your boyfriend Simon’s apartment drinking with his team. 

Johnny and Gaz sat at the kitchen counter, chatting about something unimportant. You and Simon sat on the couch, but he was turned away from you talking to Price. You were feeling incredibly bored so you spoke, “I think body shots could be fun right now., don’t you boys?” When the words left your lips all conversation ceased and you could see all of their eyes light up, thinking they’re about to not only see you topless but they get to lick you. What nobody excepted; however, was for you to gently push Simon onto his back on the couch. When you asked, Gaz scrambled to find and hand you the supplies without a second thought. The room was silent except for the quiet radio as everyone watched you pull Simon’s shirt up, sprinkle a trail of salt onto his chest, and place a lime wedge between his lips. A strained “fuck” left Johnny’s lips when you moved to straddle Simon. You could have sworn you saw Johnny and Gaz adjust themselves in sync when you leaned down to slowly lick the salt off of Simon’s chest. You threw back the shot of tequila with ease before taking the lime from Simon’s mouth with your own. With a self satisfied smirk on your face and the attention of all four men in the room you sat back up properly. “Anyone else want a turn?” Unfortunately nobody else would get a turn that night, Simon demanding they all get lost. You stood to let him physically push everyone out of the door, laughing at the chorus of ‘boos’ and complaints that you two received. 

When the door finally shut Simon whipped around and grabbed you by the hair, using his grip to push you to your knees with one hand and undo his fly with the other. “Think you’re cheeky huh? Think it’s funny to let ‘em think they get to put their mouths on you, just to be a fuckin’ tease and make ‘em all watch you take the shot instead?” His words surprised you for a moment, he wasn’t mad that you implied his team could put their mouths on you…oh no, he was pissed because you made them think they could and then denied them. The realization sent chills down your spine, but before you could get any words in either to tease him or poke at the idea of him sharing you Simon was forcing your mouth open. “C’mon luv, open up for me. You were so eager to use your mouth earlier. Let’s see you do it again yeah?”

Simon laid his leaking tip on your tongue when you stuck it out for him. You looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes you knew made him crazy as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. The taste of his pre-cum mixing with the aftertaste of the shot you had just taken caused you to let out an involuntary moan. As if acting on some primal instinct Simon pushed your head as far down as you could go, 3/4 of the way his pushing was met with resistance “come on sweet’eart…swallow. Swa-yeah, attagirl.”” You manage to get those last few inches down your throat, your nose brushing against those pretty blonde curls at his base. Your hands reached up to brace yourself on his thighs as he started to move your head, using your mouth like his own personal toy. The gagging and slurping sounds that emitted from you were downright filthy, and your looked matched the sounds. Saliva covering your chin and dripping down onto your chest. After what felt like forever but was probably just a few minutes or so your boyfriend pulled you off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’. Your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath. Simon let go of your hair and moved to sit back on the couch, you didn’t dare move a muscle.  Once he was comfortable he looked you over and patted his lap. The simple non-verbal command and you stripping your bottoms and moving to straddle his lap.

You were already soaked and both of you knew it. “You this fuckin’ wet just from sucking me off dove?” His words were accompanied by the feeling of his finger sliding across your slit, gathering up some of the wetness that leaked from you. The gentle touch alone had you bucking your hips, an action that was quickly halted by Simons free hand gripping your thigh. “Wait” His voice dark and rough and had that ’don’t fuck with me’ tone that made your stomach do backflips. You watched with wide eyes as Simon brought his finger to his lips and sucked your slick off of his finger. “Fuckin’ divine you know that luv?”  Your response came in the form of a desperate whimper and another attempt to grind your aching cunt against his cock. It was right there, so close and still wet from your saliva.

Simon let out a chuckle before lifting your hips a little so he could properly position himself, lining up with your hole in a practiced manner that came from far too much couch sex. He helped you slowly lower yourself down onto him, letting you accommodate to the stretch. “Thats it. Thats a good girl, just like that,” When you were properly sat you both let out a shuddery breath. No matter how many times he fucked you his size was still a shock to your body that you had to adjust to, but once you were ready your hips became an unstoppable force. Not that Simon would want to stop the way you bounced up and down, moved back and forth, greedy walls gripping him and trying to suck him back in every time you pulled up even a little. It was absolute heaven for both of you and it was bringing you closer to your orgasm faster than you cared to admit. 

Your moans raised in pitch the closer you got to your orgasm “Simon..Si..Simons please im-“ He covered your mouth with his hand quickly. “Not yet, please…just a little longer, wanna fuck your cunt for just al little longer. You can wait cant you doll?” You whined in protest but nodded nevertheless, you couldn’t say no to him. Especially when his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut as his hips rammed up into yours, the feeling making you borderline delirious. Simon didn’t tell you that you were allowed to cum yet , at least not verbally. Instead he reached a hand down between your bodies to rub at your poor sensitive and neglected clit, it was too much. The please making your head spin and hips falter. “S’okay dove, let go for me.” Thats all you needed to absolutely fall apart on top of your boyfriend, his own Orgasm following soon after.

One satisfying and much needed shower later Simon was tucking you into bed and pulling you close to him. As you drifted off to sleep you could hear him mutter about how well you did and how good you could be for his boys.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Hello! I know you’re super busy writing “Dark water” which btw I love! I had a request for an Bad batch era Echo x reader, where they kinda have a thing where he calls her mandoa pet names and she called him normal pet names like honey or sweetheart but theyre not together but people keep confusing that they are and it makes them blush. Maybe his brothers get tired of the constant obvious flirting and lock them in a room together until they kiss? Love your work! Xx

“Say It Again, Sweetheart”

Echo x Reader

Echo calls you cyar’ika when he’s tired, when he’s soft, when he thinks no one’s listening.

You call him sweetheart when he’s grumpy, when he fusses, when you want to watch him try not to smile.

You’re not together. You know you’re not.

But no one else seems to believe that.

“Say it again,” Echo muttered under his breath, pausing beside you at the ship’s console, his voice dipped just low enough so you’d hear and no one else would.

“Say what?” you replied innocently, fingers tapping at the screen, not looking at him because you knew exactly what he meant.

“That word,” he said. “Sweetheart.”

Your lips twitched. “Sweetheart?”

He exhaled through his nose. It was barely audible, but you felt it—the way his shoulder brushed yours like gravity was playing favourites.

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured in return, smooth and confident in that way only Mando’a allowed. “Fair’s fair.”

Your ears burned. That word—it always did something to you. The way he said it so naturally, like he wasn’t even trying to flirt. Like it was just fact.

⸻

You weren’t exactly sure when it started. The pet names. The teasing. The long glances across the room like one of you was trying to memorize the other.

But it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tech said one morning, his voice as dry as the datapads he carried. “Echo wants to know if his cyar’ika’s ready to spar.”

You blinked. Wrecker choked on his rations. Crosshair straight up walked out of the room.

“We’re not together,” you mumbled, heat crawling up your neck.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Crosshair called from the hall.

It only got worse from there.

Echo would lean close, hand brushing your back just enough to make you short-circuit for a moment, whispering words like “mesh’la” and “ner runi”, and you’d fumble a reply like “thanks, honey” while your brain tried to reboot.

Eventually, the Batch had enough.

⸻

It was Tech who did it.

Because of course it was.

He calmly rerouted the door controls on the Marauder during a pit stop and, after getting you and Echo into the storage room on some made-up errand, the door snapped shut with a hydraulic hiss.

“What the kriff?” Echo barked, turning sharply.

“Door’s stuck,” Tech’s voice came over the comm. “Oh dear. Might take… an hour. Maybe two.”

“Tech,” you growled.

“Maybe three,” Crosshair added.

“Not helping,” came Hunter’s exasperated sigh.

Wrecker, of course, was giggling somewhere in the background like this was the best day of his life.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

“You know,” you said eventually, “this is kinda their fault.”

Echo arched a brow. “Us being trapped?”

“No. Us… being so obvious, apparently.”

He went quiet. The room felt too small, too still.

“Do you… mind?” he asked suddenly, voice softer. “That they think we’re together?”

Your heart jumped.

You swallowed. “Only if you mind.”

He didn’t speak. Just stepped a little closer, expression unreadable, cybernetic hand twitching slightly like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he could.

“I don’t mind,” he said. Then: “I kinda wish they were right.”

And there it was. All the months of silent glances and soft words and unspoken things hanging between you finally breathed themselves into the open.

You took a shaky breath. “Then do something about it, Echo.”

He didn’t hesitate.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting through a hundred battles just to do this. Gentle but firm, like he was staking a claim he’d never felt brave enough to make before.

You melted.

When the door finally slid open two hours later, you and Echo were seated on the floor, tucked against one another, flushed but shameless.

Wrecker whooped.

Crosshair rolled his eyes.

Tech just nodded, muttering, “Statistically, I predicted this outcome.”

Hunter smiled and clapped Echo on the shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

You glanced at Echo. He smirked and said low enough for only you to hear:

“Cyar’ika.”

And Maker help you—you blushed all over again.

[belovedcloud]

Treats

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! hybrid reader

✎ REQUEST: I love you for your fluffs, literally marry me, I don't really know if it's a dark cw but can you make fluff about hybrid!reader and like an owner Leon but in a sweet way? We warm up to his, just a little slowburn if you squint. Pls pls pls psklsplfpd<3333

✎ synopsis: his mission to alcatraz took way too long for his liking. he couldn't wait to come back to see you - to walk in seeing you all teary eyed, he had to make this reunion perfect.

✎ notes: thank you so much for the request and sorry for taking so long to do it! i hope you like it :) also this isn't proofread so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes! this is so short ffs

➤ WC: 1.3K

➤ CW: kisses, cuddles, basically all fluff, owner leon, reader is sensitive, very sweet tho, baking (kinda)

You didn't understand why Leon was taking so long to come back from wherever he went. He never could tell you what he was doing but he always said it was top secret! No fair. Although you weren't his for that long, you seemed to warm up to him well. Well, at least you thought you did.

Days went by with a simple message from Leon, pinging your phone just to alert you that he was still breathing but it wasn't enough. He brought out a side of you that you thought wasn't even real. The shelter he got you from discarded you away, made you feel inferior to the other hybrids that were accommodated there. With Leon adopting you and becoming your owner, the level of clinginess shot through the roof. Every step he took, you would take it too. If he was making a coffee, you would stare at him with pleading eyes. How come he was paying more attention to that damn coffee machine instead of you?

So now that your irregular but regular routine was disrupted due to his departure. It felt like step one all over again. You would have to slowly warm up to him, trust him, love him.

Leon's time over at Alcatraz was one of pure misery. His main mission being discarded due to the sheer amount of chaos occurring in the four walls that surrounded him and some people he knew long ago. Although it wasn't really a dream reunion seeing Claire or her brother Chris - alongside Jill, it was still nice seeing them all in great shape. Minus the infection but they were all still fine right?

Wrong.

Perhaps physically Leon was fine. The minor cuts and bruises he accumulated was common practice at this point. 'Unavoidable' as he would say. But this was the first mission where he would be coming home to someone. It wasn't an ordinary visit home to drink yourself to sleep like past years. His home had a new essence to it; a new being. His mental state was one of excitement and nervousness.

He left you with enough food right? Or maybe the thing he should be concerned about is your wellbeing.

It pained him that he couldn't tell you what he worked as. Bioweapons would just confuse your pretty little head and he definitely didn't want to make you panic for when he goes out to embark on such tasks.

So the footsteps he took from his car to the front door were heavy. He missed you. He missed his girl so so much. Leon promised to himself he would spoil you rotten these next few days to make up for the time lost. His fingers twitched in his jacket pocket, the smooth leather feel contrasting the calloused pads of his fingers. A slight jingle erupting from the keys as he lassoed them out.

Flicking through the multitude of keys, something caught his eye. It always caught his eye when he looked at the key circuit. A picture. A mini picture of you and him stuck in resin. Your sweet smile with his hand on your head, petting your ears softly. Leon could remember the day vividly in his mind. Your nimble fingers twitching to take the picture on his phone with giggles leaving your soft lips. A fat smile plastered Leon's lips, those blue eyes boring into the image - more or less burning it into his mind.

Snapping out of it, the front door key scratched at the lock, twisting the door open. His hands shaky; matching his breathing pattern as he took a step inside. Leon scanned the hallway, peering his eyes to try and find you somewhere near. Nope, you weren't in the kitchen, living room or downstairs bathroom. His footsteps echoed the silent house as he approached his bedroom.

The silence he once knew faded away as he heard sniffles coming from his room. A frown automatically made way to his lips as he thought about you crying. What could be wrong?

Walking in, all he could see was a fat lump under his duvet - the cover shaking every so often. Leon didn't want to alert you in your cry sesh, so all he could come up with was a hushed whisper with his hand slowly tugging the blanket.

"Sweetheart?" Oh that pet name you oh so loved. Your bunny ears twitched to the sound of his voice whilst your head popped out of the little blanket fort you had made for yourself. Blinking to try and see him properly, clumps of tears fell from your eyes landing onto the cover. Staining it with a deeper colour. No words left your lips, it was impossible to speak after seeing Leon again.

"Why are you crying sweetness?" The rough skin of his fingers wiped the tears from your wet face. All you could do was look up to him with sorry eyes. You felt almost... guilty. Here he was, comforting you and all you could do was sit there silently still moping about.

Leon wanted to know what was wrong. His pretty girl sobbing was not a sight he wanted to come home to. Especially after such a long mission. His relationship with you was more than a pet and an owner. He saw you more important than just some hybrid animal he adopted.

He would make sure you would know that too.

He managed to get you to speak even if it did take 20 minutes and a cuddle. You seemed to look a little happier in his arms - though he had a small feeling you still weren't up in your spirits. Looking down at you, your eyelashes enchanted him. The way they fluttered as you blinked whilst your head laid on his chest.

"Love?" A deep voice rumbled in your ears. Shooting your head up, you managed to smack Leon in the cheek with your fluffy ear. A giggle erupted out of you as you responded, "yeah?" Seeing him chuckle whilst giving you a heartwarming smile made you twitch in excitement. "How about we treat ourselves tonight?" Leon mumbled out, kissing your forehead.

Treat? Treat. Maybe not a treat for Leon but definitely a treat for you. Cookies! Now, yes you would make these with pure love but you wouldn't dare clean up the mass amount of flour on the countertops or on your clothes. That was Leon's treat.

Looking down into your mixing bowl, you grab the chocolate chips on the side. Leon's arms wrap around you, leaving a few pecks on your cheeks. "You're making all this mess on purpose baby, is this my punishment for going away for a long time?" He questioned, watching you mix the dough into a good consistency.

"Well... you shouldn't have left for so long!" You huff out, though your bratty behaviour isn't kept up for long when Leon tickles your sides. "Yeah?" He continues his attack on you, making you giggle and squirm under his touch."

"Stop!" The snickering word escapes your mouth as you gasp out for air. The flour is everywhere at this point. On the floor, counter and on your face.

"Look up at me." He stares down at you, awaiting for your head to turn up. Your nose twitches as you feel something touch it. Looking up at Leon and squinting at the reflection of the window - you see a dollop of wet dough on your nose.

Leon's arms around you leave your sides as he takes a step back, chuckling at the sight and snatching his phone from the countertop. Before you could say anything, a quick snap of his phone alerts your ears. "You look so silly." He laughed hysterically.

"Hey!" Your fingers paw at the pile of flour next to your bowl, without thinking - you throw it on Leon. His eyes widen and blink rapidly whilst he registers what you've done.

"Oh you're so done."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

[videnrambles]

kinda written like a story but really isnt ;-;

AU/short story where Yuuji is slowly beginning to have similar urges to Sukuna. Nanami is the only one to notice.

One day at some party hosted by the school Yuuji becomes overwhelmed by the noise, the constant sneers and disgusted looks thrown at him. He's shaking, just as he feels he's going to do something he might regret, Nanami grabs his arm.

Nanami drags him away from the event back to the empty student dorms and into kitchen. Two balls of dough are dropped onto the table, Nanami pushes one towards him and says "knead."

Nanami grabs the other ball and begins to knead it. Yuuji snaps out of his surprise and quickly follows the instruction.

It helps. The movements are relaxing and let him exert force onto something without hurting anyone.

Nanami keeps doing it. Dragging him away just as he feels he might slip. It isn't always kneading dough, sometimes he is asked to grind spices or whip at cream. But some how Nanami is always there, ready with a task for him to do.

Soon feeling the urges starts to come with the expectation of a task. The few times Nanami isn't there he finds dough balls in the fridge with a note asking Yuuji to finish kneading them.

Sukuna gets quiet too during these tasks. Sometimes Yuuji can feel Sukuna slowly, almost hesitantly reach out, sitting just beneath his skin, gently following along with Yuujis repetitive movements.

Pale tattoos barely visible unless knowingly looked for cover his arms in those moments. Nanami glances at them sometimes but he never says anything. Allowing the vessel and curse to exist together in their unspoken truce.

a/n:

why tf does this always happen, it was supposed to be like 6 sentences of Nanami giving yuji an outlet wtf. Anyway I fully believe that Yuuji could tame Sukuna with food.

For those confused on what happened, Nanami helped Yuuji control his violent urges by giving himself an outlet. Sukuna has felt nothing but violent urges his whole life wanted to try as well. So they did like a shared control type thing, and it helped.

Idk I've just become really obsessed with the idea of Sukuna and Yuuji coming to some mutual understanding like "We are stuck with each other, we may as well try to make it work even if just for a moment"

[strniohoeee]

reader is down bad for matt, like she blushes, giggles, goes mute whenever he's around and he kinda enjoys it and one day he finally asks her to go an a date and it ends super fluffy

She’s Got It Bad

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N was out of her mind in love with Matt, but she was shy. Which left her in awkward silent situations until one day Matt puts his foot down! 🌷

Warnings⚠️: None?? Writing kind of sucks also sorry if there’s grammatical errors I never proof read till two days later after I post lolll😭

Song for imagine: This Is How It Feels- D4vd, Laufey

So this is how it feels

To fall in love with you

To always think of you

To always dreams of you

You know when you’re reading or watching a romance book or movie, and one of those super cheesy slow mo scenes happen? Where an 80s love song is queued and the two love interests stare at each other while their hair oh so dainty blows in the wind? And you’re curling your toes as your heart beats for the next scene to happen? Just thinking “I need more! Give me more!” And then it goes back to reality and they end up walking right past one another….

And it wraps you into this hour and a half or 230 page book/movie about the girl wanting the guy….but the guy not really wanting her or simply seeing her as a sister or painfully shoving her in the friend zone? And you’re itching for more. Tired of this back and forth of who will get one another first?

And if you said yes to any of those questions then you are sure looking at my life right now…stuck painfully stuck in the friend zone. Mainly because I put myself there. Let's face it, I'm deeply afraid of rejection. Why ruin something that is virtually perfect.

I had it bad for Matt and I’m not so sure he felt the same way, but I’d never in a million years ever jump at that. I’d rather rip my ears off and tape them to the concrete and then run them over consistently for an hour… okay a bit graphic and a bit over the top but you get the point. He’s off limits and I’ve got it bad for him…

Most of our interactions consisted of short conversations, me blushing like an idiot and even sometimes going silent..offering a nod here and there. It’s even gotten to the point of having to leave the hangout because I was so nervous around him. I mean what if I said something that he found cringey? What if I embarrassed myself which I tend to do a lot might I add? Or even worse…what if he didn’t find me funny?

All these terrible instances bounced off my brain like a bullet ricocheting off of metal walls. As I sat chewing my lip, suddenly my thoughts were interrupted

“Helloooooo” I heard loudly from the other end of the phone call

Blinking out of my trance I soon realized I had been on the phone.

“I’m sorry Nick I got side tracked” I replied gripping the phone again

“Yeah I can tell you went rogue for like 3 minutes there, did you even hear what I asked you?” He asked laughing

“Uhhh yeah and I think you should go with the yellow shirt” I replied praying I wasn’t so far off from what he was talking about

“That was like 10 minutes ago, I asked are you coming or what?” He said huffing

“I’m sorry? Coming? Where?” I asked again as I furrowed my eyebrows

“This is why I don’t call you, you have the attention span of a fly” he said laughing which caused me to laugh

“I’m sorryyyy I was thinking about something” I replied to him

“Aren’t you always… I was asking if you were coming over tonight for movie night?” He said shuffling around

“Ohhh duhh of course I never miss Saturday nights with you” I said getting up to pack my overnight back

“Even though Matt and Chris are joining us this time?” He asked

This is where I hadn’t been listening previously and I almost choked on my saliva trying to form a proper answer.

“Uh.. *ahem* yes of course they can join us” I replied trying to seem chill

“Wow sooo nonchalant about that” he stated sarcastically

“Oh will you shut up” I replied stuffing my duffle bag

Nick opened his mouth to speak but on the other end it sounded like someone walked in his room

“Matt get the fuck out I’m on the phone” Nick said which made me laugh a bit

“Who are you talking to?” I heard Matt ask his brother

“Your girlfriend now fuck off” he said almost hissing at Matt

“NICK STOP” I squeaked over the phone

“I don’t have a girlfriend you sicko” Matt stated sounding annoyed…. I looked up at my imaginary camera (hmm how do I take that response) I thought.

Shaking that feeling off I returned to the call

“Okayyy bye nickkkk see you in a bit” I replied rushing him off the phone

Hanging up the call I sighed deeply… if I wasn’t already nervous to possibly run into Matt then oh boy was I in for a treat

Usually, Saturday nights were for Nick and I and I rarely ever ran into Matt or Chris. Usually it was Chris and him and I had a cool bond. We’d stop to hug and chat for a bit before Chris left to go out. And if I ever ran into Matt it was him leaving with Chris which prompted me to wave slightly and avoid all hugs. Rambling on about Nick needing me for something upstairs each time and not even giving them the chance to respond.

I usually shut my eyes and shook my head when I turned away from them and even muttered a few unkind words about myself to myself….

But tonight…tonight Matt was joining us which meant I couldn’t be awkward around him or else Nick would for sure point it out.

I had gotten to their house with dinner for all of us which we landed on chilis…. Good thing I was 21 I needed a to go drink…preferably strong!

Sitting in their living room as we all began to eat, Nick scrolled through Max as we sat on the floor with our food on the coffee table.

“We should watch Silver Linings Playbook I heard it was good” I said looking over at the tv as Nick had just passed the movie

“I’m down” Chris said shrugging his shoulders

Nick and I usually watched action movies where we’d see a bunch of sweaty hot men fighting bad guys. And most of those movies we’d just yell out if we’d smash the guys or not. I don’t know that Matt and Chris would want to take part in that so a rom-com was for the win!

Max was playing a few ads before the movie and as I was sipping my margarita in a styrofoam to go cup (how niche) Matt had called my name

Looking over at him I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Do you like rom-coms?” He asked me

I felt my ears getting hot and my face too….good thing I’m drinking and I can just blame it on the alcohol.

“I do, I love them actually” I replied nodding at him

“I love them too” he said smiling at me as he ate a fry

“Nice” I said nodding my head and looking over at the tv…why the fuck were their ads still playing? Squinting I turned back around to face him

“Uhh what’s your favorite?” I asked him clearing my throat

“I’d have to say 10 things I hate about you” he replied wiping his hands

“SHUT UP! Me too” I replied getting really excited and loud (blaming it on the alcohol once again)

“No way” he replied laughing

“No! like I swear! I have all the romance movies I’ve ever seen ranked in my notes app and 10 things I hate about you is number one, look see” I replied rambling as I opened up my app and showed him

His brows raised…an impressed look might I add

“Wow Y/N didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic” he said winning at me

This made my heart flutter and my voice disappear? Sinking into my skin I nodded at him before turning to watch the tv

Throughout the whole movie I kept catching Matt looking at me but he’d look away quickly. This made my skin crawl in a good way though

The movie finished and I found myself emotional. I mean it wasn’t a sad movie but rather beautiful. Nick and Chris had gone to lay on the couch at some point in the movie.

So to no surprise Matt and I turned to find them fast asleep. Shaking our heads we cleaned up the living room and headed to the kitchen to place everything in the trash.

The hallway light illuminating the kitchen as I washed my hands

“I almost feel like Silver Linings Playbook is my number one rom-com” Matt and I both stated at the same time

Laughing I shut the water off and turned towards him

“I guess we really are similar” I said to him as I crossed my arms over my chest

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t know you’re always running away from me” he said quietly

“Am not!” I replied standing up straight

“You’re always running away from me as fast as possible, you don’t hate me do you” he stated as he wiped down the table

“No” I replied watching his every move

“Then why do you run away? Do I stink?” He asked laughing

“No! You just happen to catch me when I’m busy” I say lying through my teeth

“Right…I suppose so, I do know how to get you at the right time though” he stated throwing the paper out

“Do you?” I asked cocking an eyebrow

“Yeah…when I take you on a date and have all your attention so we can really get to know each other”he says

“Well we’re friends so I do know you” I reply rolling my eyes

“No…know me on a different level that’s not…friends” he says smiling at me sweetly

“Not friends?” Was all I could mutter

“Just say yes to the date you loser” he replied shaking his head

“Yes..sorry yes I will go on a date with you” I replied shaking my head and giggling

“You’ve ever seen Notting Hill?” He suddenly asks me

“I actually haven’t” I stated

“Want to watch it?” He asked me

“But Chris and Nick are sleeping” I replied pointing over my shoulder

“You miss queues don’t you?” He asked cocking an eyebrow

“They don’t call me a ditz for nothing” I replied jokingly

He looked at me with adoration in his eyes for a moment before opening his mouth

“I mean with me…just me” he replied with soft eyes

“Oh....yeah” I replied breathlessly as I shook my head…am I that fucking stupid? I thought to myself

We shut off the tv and the hallway light. Matt led me to his room as I followed behind. It felt so foreign being in a room with a new undertone to it….more than friends

“You can sit closer I won’t bite” he says as he looks over at me

“Right, sorry” I say sitting closer to Matt against the headboard

The air felt awkward as we watched the movie, but Matt slid his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in

“I’m not a stranger” he replied as he snuggled me closer against him

Smiling against him I melted into his touch as we fell asleep to a romance movie. I guess being shy does work out in the end and I’ve always had it bad for Matt but after today? You’re for sure thinking

She’s got it bad!

The End

I wasn’t sure how to end this…it’s so HARD TO END A STORY WTFFFF. Anywho we’re almost at 2,600 followers🥹🥹. Yall I could cry this means so much to me I remember when I had hit 100 followers and I never thought I’d make it this far. I’m so eternally grateful for you all😩🖤🖤. I know I don’t update three times a day everyday like I used to, but I’m so glad yall are sticking around till this day when I post once to twice a week every two weeks. I don’t deserve you, thank yall so much🥹💕💕💕. Stay tuned for more work baes

-J💅🏽

[partycatty]

anything with Lord Raiden.... please.... GILF fuckers need something 😞

lord raiden > you unwind me

raiden can't seem to control himself... only when you're around.

warnings: idk it's kinda mushy ig, possibly ooc raiden. i played 8-12 and yet for some reason he's one of the hardest characters to recreate on paper.

notes: not stopping til we can power all of chicago.

[ masterlist ]

• you can't say you didn't notice how touchy he was, i mean, it was considerably obvious considering the distance he kept from the others.

• hands behind his back, posture straight, eyes down and concealed by the width of his hat. he was an enigma, yet you somehow made him twitch like no other.

• he was visibly unsettled around you, falling quiet with tight lips or even stuttering over his words momentarily before forgetting his mortal crowd.

• "if we were to attack from the northern border—" raiden's thick arm stretched past you, just barely brushing against your arm but his towering form sending warmth down your back.

• "excellent observation," his hand would fall to your shoulder, squeezing tight. you've had to pull away before his nails dig in on several occasions.

• "your form is off," the telltale indication of flirting in most men, his large hands on your hips as he corrects your mistakes in the thickest silence you've ever been in. jesus, does he even breathe?

• the smoky air of netherrealm flooded your senses, making you lose your momentum in the siege. raiden would often check on you from a distance as he obliterated demons and the like, but when he noticed a flying creature honing in on your position, he quickly teleported to your side and pulled you in close, teleporting you elsewhere on the battlefield. your body was significantly more... mortal than his. and with his incredible form, you were no more than chest height. the rest of the battle was a hot blur.

• you have also been a victim of electrocutions on multiple occasions, to the point where you almost had to host an intervention. he was so on edge around you, for a reason you couldn't pinpoint.

• "lord raiden," you welcomed yourself into the room with a bow, holding a metallic item he requested you retrieve. "i have the—" as he reaches out to grab whatever it was, the current from his fingertips reaches what felt like your entire nervous system and you jolted, yelping at the sudden shock.

• you'd walk into the surveillance room, hoping for an update on the spy cameras assembled at the black dragon's hideout. while it wasn't even raiden's priority, you observe that he stuck around anyway. you were dressed more down than unusual, relishing in the cool air on a hot summer day with a tank top with your work pants. when raiden locks eyes with you, the surveillance monitors go haywire, eventually blue screening. everyone knows who to blame.

• you can't really say you're opposed to it, either. he was a large man that was good with his hands, well-spoken, mature, what wasn't to like? he was the perfect eye candy during debriefings, though you knew better than to act on your little crush.

• "not sure what sparky's issue is over there," johnny murmured, pointing a thumb in raiden's direction. you both glance over, realizing raiden was quite literally doing nothing but standing there pretending to be useful. "he's short circuited more times than i can count in the last week alone. do you know how many monitors we've had to replace?"

• "it's hard being a protector of an entire realm," you attempt to justify his behavior. "you should talk to him."

• "yeah, because the god of thunder needs a therapist," johnny sarcastically chuckled, crossing his arms. "you give it a shot. he likes you."

• "he likes all of us," you defend yourself. "that's kind of his job." johnny shoots you a knowing look before turning to find cassie. you decide to take the moment of rare silence in the special forces to approach raiden with casual intent.

• "lord raiden," you smile politely, lowering your head for a moment. "on behalf of the special forces, i'd like to have a word with you." he gives you a hum of agreement, yet he's the one that grabs your arm and pulls you aside, out of earshot of others. he locks the door behind him as you two stand in the hallway.

• "er..." you feel yourself beginning to sweat, the seven foot tall man stares blankly at you, jaw clenched and arms crossed as he awaits your words. "i... we... have noticed a significant number of incidents pertaining to you or your powers. we were just wondering if everything is alright, and if you need anything, we—"

• "that is more than enough," raiden holds a hand out at you, and you swallow thickly as he uses your full name. a thunder god is not someone to be in trouble with. he pauses for a long time, eyes darting between yours. his lips part as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. "though i must admit i agree with your observations. i have been... unwound as of late."

• "unwound?" you repeat, perplexed at his wording. "is there something wrong, lord raiden?"

• he hums for a moment, lowering his head. "you will have to forgive me." your heart flutters at his usage of you, rather than the SF.

• "i do," your voice lowers into a more gentle tone and you feel the human urge to place a comforting hand on his arm. when you try, though, you feel your hairs raise up the closer you get. "sorry." as you pull away, a flush to your cheeks, raiden grabs your hand and squeezes it a little too tightly. that funny feeling disappears, and is replaced by a new one.

• "i have been earthrealm's protector for billions of years," he starts after a long pause. "i have seen the horrors afflicted by corrupted gods, i have taken part in the bloodiest battles of mankind. i have gained it all, and lost it all."

• you're stone still, wondering where he's going with this sudden burst.

• "but nothing... nothing," he squeezes even harder. "has torn me apart, piece by piece, more than one... little mortal." the glow of his eyes feels like it burns into yours as your cheeks heat up.

• "i feel as if i have known for since the dawn of time," he confesses, his face eerily still. "you'll have to forgive my bluntness. this is not my strong suit."

• "what isn't?" you had a feeling, but you needed to hear it to be sure.

• "...feelings, i suppose," he averts his gaze, clearly turmoiled by this realization. "it's you. you unwind me."

• "...me?" you reply incredulously. sure, you liked him, but what the hell do you do when a thunder god confesses to you? "you like me?"

• "if that is how you choose to word it, then yes."

• "oh." your eyes focus on his hand enveloping yours so easily. it's a few moments before he tugs ever so slightly, and the static feeling returns to your skin.

• "forgive me," he insists again, a wave of shame overtaking him. "i suppose it was a ridiculous ask of you to return those feelings. i would advise for you to for—"

• "i like you, too," you mutter, never once envisioning the time where you'd have to say such a thing. "i just didn't... expect it from you."

• raiden never smiles, as kind of a man as he is. you had maybe seen it once or twice, but it never quite reached his eyes. this time, however, he was glowing more so than usual as his lips curled upward. at first, it looked strange on him, but it quickly warmed your heart to know that you struck a chord in him.

• "that... brings me joy," he admits, and you can tell he's physically restraining himself from a full-on grin.

• well, what now? you two fall silent for a moment, electricity (for once, not real electricity) coursing through your veins as you relish in the moment. you wonder if he's waiting for a kiss, or for you to say something. these internal questions are answered when he takes a step closer, looming over your figure. his hands can't quite figure out where to land, eventually settling on the sides of your face. he drinks in every detail, every crease and flutter of color in your eyes like he just might forget if he looks away.

• you raise yourself on your tippy toes, eyes flicking between his glowing pupils to his lips. just as you decide to close your eyes and move in for a kiss, you feel him physically pull you away.

• "not here," he gently insists, dropping his hands to slide down your arms and hold yours. "i would rather it be memorable."

• "i'm sure it'll be memorable anywhere," you insist, almost feeling desperate for a kiss from him. you wonder if it'll feel staticky. "if it's with you, i mean."

• "you're too kind," he runs his thumbs over your knuckles. "we have time, my dear. all the time we need."

• raiden wanted to take it slow, you assume. who knows when the last time he had feelings was, or if ever. mutually agreeing to keep things under wraps, you shake your giddy feelings and reenter the room with your coworkers, glancing up at raiden. his lip twitches though his face is stoic as always.

• "did he take it well?" johnny asks in a low voice. "or did he strike you down, or something?"

• "...he's fine," you try to wave it off, sweating at your temples. "peachy, actually."

• your eyes find raiden again, standing across the room. this time, he's not pretending to do anything. he's just staring back with a friendlier glint within the glow.

• "he seems in better spirits," johnny shrugs as he follows your gaze. "told you he liked you."

• "i guess you did."

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday: Tim and Damian Brotherhood

It's time for Tim and Damian! Man these two have had a rocky relationship. Most of the Tim fandom seems stuck on Damian's first appearance when he was homicidal and scathing to everyone and completely ignore his significant character growth. And Damian fans seem to either ignore Tim altogether or make him Bruce's most straight-laced soldier always playing by the rules which, have they even met Tim?! It can be really hard to find fics with these two either improving their relationship or just plain being brothers. So that said, here's ten of my favorite fics featuring these two!

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once

Summary:

‘Drake?’ Tim felt like he was choking. His throat was tight. He couldn’t swallow. ‘Damian?’ He managed. Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And- Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t- How had he been so stupid? Or: Tim comes out to Damian and prepares for the entire family to know by morning. It just so happens that Damian can keep a secret. Multiple, actually.

Momo's Notes: Spicy scene warning on this one between Tim and Kon! Tim is kinda traumatized from when his bio dad's reaction to him liking boys so seeing Damian at the Kent farm in the middle of the night while he's covered in hickeys nearly gave him a heart attack. But all that panic over is family finding out he's bi leads to some honestly really sweet moments of brotherly bonding between Tim and Damian.

an unplanned detour straight down by CarrionCarnival

Summary:

No one here has the right wing type for the sheer dive it would take to reach Damian before he hits the water like it’s concrete. No one here except Tim. - the Bats learn the hard way not to bring an unfledged vigilante to a midair battle

Momo's Notes: I've read this one dozens of times at this point. It's pretty short (under 5k words) but the way the author world builds so effortlessly with so few words is amazing. It's an AU where nearly all non-powered people have wings. On a mid-air mission to stop an alien invasions Damian (who's downy baby wings can't fly yet) falls. Tim is the only person there with the wing shape to maybe survive that kind of high speed dive. Tim and Damian awkwardly bonding at the end is perfection.

Yummy (I'll eat you right up) by iquirms

Summary:

Tim is very busy when the phone rings at work. He's been struggling to take care of Wayne Enterprises and going from Robin to something, it's a working process, and he's swamped in the backlog of work Bruce never did before he... Before. It's the Headmistress at Gotham Academy. A trip to his old school isn't what he wanted, but Damian's done something as as the only legal Wayne, he's got to go get him. Wonderful. or how one phone call changes the direction Tim and Damian are heading, and the aftershocks that come with it.

Momo's Notes: Please don't be thrown off by the title of this one like I was at first. I passed this gem up so many times (like an idiot) because the title made me think it would end up shipping them. It's actually a really good Canon Divergence AU where Lucius tagged Tim into the CEO role of WE before Tim took off to find Bruce. The extra responsibility delays his leaving so he and Damian actually get the chance to get to know each other and bond as brothers during the time Dick and Damian were doing the same as Batman and Robin. Bonus points for the amazing Janet Drake lore in there. I love it when writers make her a cold badass bitch that struggled with human emotions but honestly loved her son.

Hot Dog, French Fries by eggmacguffin

Summary:

Damian was not the sort of boy to mince words; perhaps he could get back to the Manor without alerting Drake to his compromised condition. It would be an exercise in espionage, he decided. or Truth Serum ft. Damian Wayne

Momo's Notes: This is a great one for Tim and Damian having the most normal brotherly relationship in the family even while living the weirdest of lives. Tim is so annoyed by Damian's very existence interrupting his patrol that he misses important signs that all is not right with his little brother. Damian stupidly suffers in silence rather than trust that his older brother won't use all this against him later.

Exit Strategy by smilebackwards

Summary:

Batman needs a Robin and Batman has a Robin. Tim is just extraneous now, vestigial. He’s a bandage over a healed wound. He doesn’t know what he’s hanging on to. Or: Tim didn’t expect his exit strategy from the Batfamily to involve quite so much bonding time with Damian over Wayne Enterprises bureaucracy.

Momo's Notes: Tim is convinced he's unnecessary and unwanted in the Batfamily but in his usual endearingly control freak way he can't stand the idea of leaving a mess behind for the family to clean up (or make worse) when he goes. Along the way he accidentally bonds with Damian (and also Jason). I wish there more fics like this one and Yummy where Tim takes Damian under his wing as a business and high society predator. They're the only two members of the Batfam who were raised to be wealthy princes with family legacies to inherit and I need more authors to explore that!

You'll Change Your Name or Change Your Mind by Samsamiam

Summary:

Tim Drake's journey to setting boundaries, learning to heal, and untangling the trauma Gotham gave him.

Momo's Notes: You wouldn't know it by the summary, but this whole series is full of Tim and Damian bonding. After another blow up with Bruce, and some badly timed commentary from Dick and Jason, Tim decides he needs some space from the family and his very dysfunctional place in it. He leaves Gotham to stay with the Titans but had no real intentions of bucking the status quo forever until it becomes painfully clear that with Tim's absence the role of emotional support/emotional punching bag Robin is falling onto Damian's shoulders. For the first time Tim plants himself in front of Bruce and FORCES him to back off and do better or else. He's determined to be a safe space for Damian to just be a 10 year old for once.

Gossamer Bonds by Solemini

Summary:

Tim hates spiders. Most children of Athena do, and with good reason. Given his druthers, Tim would have been content to simply avoid the little monsters for the rest of his life. Too bad fate – and Damian – had other plans. Or, in which weaving is Serious Business.

Momo's Notes: A Percy Jackson Demigod Au where Bruce is the favorite baby daddy for a lot of Greek gods and thus all of his kids except Damian is a demigod. This particular fic in the series focuses on Tim (child of Athena) and Damian (a human magic user). 10 year old Damian is doing what he did in canon, trying to oust a 14 year old Tim from Robin to take his place because his messed up assassin upbringing makes him believe that's the only way he'll have a place in the family. The fact that Tim is legitimately a blood son of Batman and was raised by him since infancy just adds to Damian's resentment and insecurity. The two end up alone against the homicidal bitterness of the monster Arachne and have to rely on each other to survive. Don't worry if you don't know the Percy Jackson series, it's not really necessary to follow this story. It's mostly just borrowing some of the lore of Demigods and a bit of the characterizations of the gods from it. As long as you know the Batfam and the basics of Greek mythology you're good to go.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by bowditch

Summary:

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around. Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

Momo's Notes: Here's another example of Tim and Damian having the most normal sibling relationship of the family. Tim backs Damian's plea to volunteer at an animal shelter just to get rid of him for a few extra hours of peace and quiet. He's forced to step up and be a better big brother when he eventually realizes something is very wrong with Damian.

Into the Brighter Night by shoalsea

Summary:

When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Momo's Notes: Finally a fic that's almost entirely in Damian's pov! A dangerous alien force threatens to obliterate anyone standing between them and Robin so the Batfamily (minus Bruce and Alfred who are out of town) scramble to keep their youngest safe. They failed to realize until it's too late that the case the enemy is referencing was before Damian's time in uniform. Damian is forced to deal with the fallout of Tim protecting him and the family slowly crumbling at the loss as they wait to see if Tim's insane plan will bring him back to them. Damian's slow realization of Tim's importance to the family, and to him, is handled really well. Bonus points for the sheer chaos and fun that the Young Justice crew bring to this. It's not often a fic is able to capture the unhinged badassery of YJ98!

I’d Mistaken the Truth for a Lie, but You Cared and You Saved Me by Chemical_Processes

Summary:

Tim's been fixing Bruce's mistakes since he became Robin. It only makes sense that he'd step in when it comes to Damian as well.

Momo's Notes: Short but so satisfying! Damian POV of an AU where he and Tim's first meeting goes VERY differently. Damian is new to his father's household and is half indignant and half terrified at how Bruce is treating him (not abusive, just emotionally incompetent as usual). Tim is full swing in his "manage Bruce/Batman to ensure his failure at being human/grief-fueled crashout doesn't destroy anything or anyone" era and isn't going to sit by while Bruce speedruns burning down another father-son relationship.

[harmonic-intervention]

And your sad blue eyes, like mine

When the call came, Buck was already staring at his phone.

He was also about two months pregnant, but that was beside the point.

Got another fix-it. I am joining the mpreg train.

Word count: 11,104 - getting back together, double mpreg, helicopter crash

Excerpt:

When the call came, Buck was staring at his phone. He knew that Eddie and Hen were throwing disapproving glances his way, but that hardly deterred him. He'd gotten worse about this in the last couple of weeks.

But who could blame him? After the news, the desire to reach out to Tommy had increased tenfold.

Pregnant. About two months, now. He'd found out just last week, after he had felt sick and on a hair trigger with his emotions. He'd gone to the doctor, and she had told him that there was no doubt - he was pregnant.

Which caused a whole new set of problems. Namely, he and the baby's other father were broken up! Had been for pretty much the duration of the pregnancy.

Because Buck could guess when it'd happened - the last time they'd had sex, because they'd had it all night, multiple times, and it fit with the timeline.

Buck had known he had the carrier gene, but he'd been on birth control. Only when he'd told his doctor which one, she'd told him that these had recently been proven to fail after a short while of use.

So, here Buck was. Single, miserable, and pregnant. Staring at his ex-boyfriend's contact as if that would give him the strength to make the call. And he did have to make it. Tommy deserved to know, and the kid deserved to have two parents. And if Tommy didn't want to get involved, well then ... Buck had enough love for five parents.

He was going through what to say when he finally did get the courage to call, like perhaps hey guess what, my birth control failed. Or I'm pregnant and it's yours. Or guess I'm not the only one who's gonna call you daddy now.

Only before he could make a choice, his screen changed.

TOMMY flashed on the screen. Buck had removed the little heart he'd put next to his name and had to force himself not to put it back.

He stared at it. For a moment, he couldn't move. For a moment, he was tempted to let it ring.

He'd been waiting for this for two months. He'd been agonizing over having to call Tommy for the past week. And, let's be real, before that.

He accepted the call. Raised the phone to his ear.

"Hey?" he rasped, and really? Hey?

"Buck."

Buck's hair stood on end. His blood felt frozen in his veins. That was Tommy, alright, but he sounded- there was something wrong, and not just because the word Buck sounded wrong coming from him. He was breathing heavily, and his voice was faint. There was a cough, and it sounded wet and painful.

"Tommy? He-hey, hey what's going on?"

What if he's in trouble and needs my help? Buck had said that to Eddie a couple of weeks ago.

"I-uh, I'm kinda not doing too well," Tommy said, laughed a bit but it turned into another cough, then a pained groan. "Dropped. I- I'm stuck here, I think. Can't really move."

"What do you mean, where are you?"

"I don't really know. Not where I'm supposed to be. Also kinda- think I'm bleeding out a bit."

[continue on ao3]