#band of brothers scenario

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

can't hate on david webster because i promised to love myself❤️

[sparkle9510]

No literally! There's little to no content that my imagination's going wild on how they met, interact, personality, etc.

But no content from the movie is good >:3 it means tons of headcanons

As much as I love Brozone there's so little to none Kismet content, other than bandmates, what's Branch's relationship with them? Did they started the band when they Branch's brothers left? Or did the band already existed while Brozone haven't disbanded yet. Whose the leader? The vocals? The choreographer?

Istg they're going to worm inside my brain like a parasite

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

pillow talk

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1K

warnings: this is post activities, so its safe. just sweet sweet fluff

summary: post sex discussions

A/N: used the prompt sweet after sex by @jasminesfury *not proofread, i’m confusing myself so badly looking at one specific sentence*

masterlist / steve harrington

the sun was setting. orange and yellow hues sparkled through the windows that the curtains let peek through. the room was quiet, the only noises coming from the shared breathing and the rustling of the bedding. the room felt hot with the door closed and the previous activity that had you and steve just laying in bed with the sheets up to your naked, sweaty chests.

steve rolled over and changed from laying on his back to his stomach, staring at his ceiling while adjusted his body so his head lay on your stomach. he had one leg in and the other out, your right leg in between. steve managed to wiggle an arm under your back as his free hand drew whatever came to mind onto your sticky belly.

a tilt to your head as it lay on the pillow, a lovesick smile tugging the seams of your lips. a hand fell on steve’s head and you began running the digits through his thick head of brown hair with a few lighter parts popping out from his time in the sun. nails scratching at his scalp to pull vibrating groans or fingers twirling strands of ruly hair around.

steve rubbed his open palm over your waist and down to your thighs before trailing up again. his wonderful lips plant wet, open-mouth kisses over your stomach and the imperfections scattered over your lower half. his nose would glide over your belly button before setting his chin just above it to peer at your with lidded eyes.

“yes, handsome?” you hummed as you pushed hair behind his ear.

“i love you.”

three words, eight letters.

the two of you have said them for years. at first just surface level meaning, friendly-familia meaning, something you say in passing to your parents as you leave the house in a hurry or friends when they do a favor for you. but eventually, the words held a different meaning for the two of you. it would be lingering touches and eye contact maintained longer that was acceptable. staring at steve’s side profile as he talked, letting your thoughts run away from you with imaginary scenarios before shaking them away and landing back to reality.

and now the words held all those meanings, silver bands wrapped around ring fingers showing the world.

“i love you too, stevie.” thumb straightening his left brow into place.

steve rubbed his thumb up and down at your hip bone. more kisses pressed to your stomach, some quick and open, some more lingering, and some with heat as he gave little bites at the skin. you would giggle or squirm, a moan pulled from your throat when the feel of his lips felt tantalizing. fingers would curl and pull steve’s hair in response, you would feel the smile as he continued his loving assault.

“you know,” lingering kisses to your lower stomach, “i can’t wait to have kids with you.”

“oh, yeah?” top teeth biting into your bottom lip to stop a smile.

steve stopped the kisses (much to your disappointment) to once again rest his chin on your stomach. it was slightly discomforting but you didn’t push him away.

“yeah. i know you don’t want many if we were to have our own. so i want an older girl so she can help keep her younger brother in line.”

you let your index finger run down the slope of steve’s nose bridge, “how long have you been thinking about this?”

the quick dart of steve’s eyes piqued your interest. he only did that when he was embarrassed by the information he was about to lay out. you didn't push him, just observed him as you waited.

you felt steve’s voice but didn’t hear it. he spoke his words into your skin and it took you a moment before you realized he said anything. you asked him to repeat it politely.

he cleared his throat. “since our third date.”

“why our third date? if this was a romance anything, you would’ve said our first date.” you weren’t criticizing, just curious. you just remember it as a fun roller rink date.

your simple question sparked a twinkle in steve’s pupils. “i know what you're thinking.” “what am i thinking?”

“that it was just a roller rink date. why is that so special to start thinking about kids? right?” a shrug was your answer. steve continued his version of the story.

“okay. well, i was getting us food and you stayed in our booth. after i placed our order i leaned against the wall so i could continue to watch you-“ “stalker.”

steve tickled at your sides, breaking you into fits of laughs and tears before you conceded. “anyway. i was staring at you, my mind just constantly saying, “you got your girl”. and then you stood up and walked to a claw game. i was gonna rush over so i could impress you, but stopped when i saw you crouch down and start talking to a little boy. then you started to play the game and after many, many, many-“ you shoved his shoulder and the both of you chuckled, “many tries. you got the boy a stuffed animal. and in his excitement, he hugged you. and just seeing the way you froze before holding him tightly with your eyes closed…”

steve trailed off and you could feel the tears wishing to fall. hands grabbing for steve’s cheeks and giving a slight tug to signal him to climb up your body. his hands sat by the sides of your chest as you planted kiss after kiss over his face. a kiss to the side of his lip and you move his head back.

“here’s a potential plan. we wait another year or two, getting more marriage on the plate and getting used to our grown-up jobs. and then from there, we could start having a bit more carefree sex and just… see what happens. what d’you think?”

steve’s eyes went side to side then to your lips and back to your eyes. “i say…” he leaned closer, lips ghosting each other as he whispered, “that’s a good plan, honey.” and he kissed you until you couldn’t remember your name, only steve’s.

-

[elliesgaythoughts]

I saw that…

bbf trans!ellie x dom (kinda) reader

a/n: yes you may have saw this before on another account, I shared some of my work on theirs but I prefer to have it here now.

warnings: masturbation e! & r!, use of mama for Ellie and r!, sliiight teasing.

the sweat treacled down your forehead in the dark room, only the faint moonlight breaking through the space in your curtains as Ellie “fuck, ellie” littered your brain with scenarios.

your fingertips dancing along your pussy as you huffed through your pout, trying not to wake anyone else in your house, especially not the goddess that your brother called a mere friend that layed in his room, her pretty auburn hair was probably splayed against the pillow she layed on her bed on the floor, your body grew hot at the thought of her, tears hanging on your lashes as you pushed a finger inside yourself, wishing it was her and pushing a second in, just trying to mimic the feelings you know you’d feel if she were to ever lay a finger on your skin.

the sound of squelching and low groans filled the room, memories of Ellie’s length brushing against your hip as she’d yawn and reach past you for a colourful box of cereal, memories of how she fucking teased you today, strutting around your house in her grey sweatpants, her eyes lighting up whenever she’d noticed your teeth buried in your bottom lip and the plush of your thighs pressed together, just as they are now, enclosing on your wrist as you imagined her filling you up, stretching you out.

your tears streamed your face as you whispered her name, like an almost silent mantra, your back arching off the bed as your toes curled, your air caught in your throat as you leaked around your fingers, the band in your belly so so close to snapping “fffuu-ELLIE?!” your heart practically stopped in your chest as you caught Ellie’s eyes, rolling over and hiding under the fluff of your covers “please” you begged mindlessly “please oh my god” embarrassment swallowing you.

ellie, looking more concerned than you, fearing that she made you horribly uncomfortable “no uh- I’m so sorry” her hand gripped the cold gold of your handle as she covered her body with the door “I heard…” she pauses in contemplation “..noises.”

you pause, only coming to reality when you notice the blush in her cheeks, how her eyes darted around the room, how her small breasts raised and fell with each of her shallow breaths as she tried to hide herself behind your door “yeah…um” you dip your head, growing shy “c’mere” you whisper, having a good idea of what is going on behind that door as you see the subtle movements of Ellie’s hand “n-no” her voice raising in pitch “I can’t…” she ends the sentence with a light flutter of her lashes, trying to keep her eyes open, she knows you know.

and with her light huffs through her pout and her pupils blown out her head, she instantly switches the power dynamic as you softly pull down the plush of your covers, revealing the smooth flesh that adorned your chest, the soft skin of your belly as you revealed your entire body, you lay there bare for her eyes to eat greedily at every inch of your bare skin, all but what she craved most.

her palm slapping over her mouth as you watched her hand move feverently, her eyes locked onto your fingertips as they met your clit through your soaked panties, a daring whine of “ellie” rang through your room in the dark.

she was so fucking greedy “pleasee” her knees buckling as she leans back against your doorframe, shamelessly reavealing her fist gliding up and down her fucking pretty dick and the auburn trail leading down to it “hmm?” you giggled, dipping into your panties and pulling your soaked fingers out, swirling your tongue around it, your eyes never leaving hers as you bobbed your head, moaning at the taste of yourself.

her gaze ate you up “please, please mama” she gasps under her breath, her opposite hand coming up, sliding under her white tee and twisting on her nipple “aww you wanna cum, baby?”

her blushed face nods as she sighs a weak “yess” through her pout as you squeeze your legs together, finding it hard to focus as you watch her tip leak, the way a thick vein that ran stiff up the side of her beating as her belly caved “yeah?” “uh huh” she squeaks.

“so pretty” you hum “ could keep you like this forever”

“baby please” she begs.

“are you a good girl ellie?”

she’s practically cumming already as her thumb comes up and makes soft curls onto her tip “y-” cut off by her own whimpers.

“be a good girl and cum on your fucking hands” you say, sickly sweet and her body instantly curls in on itself, a line of drool slipping past her lips as she grunts to herself, before strings of cum covers her and and your name leaves her throat, her hands finally slowing and breath steadying as you step off your bed, your breasts bouncing subtly while you watch you watch her weak frame.

you stand practically bare infront of her, yet she’s the one shying away, eyes low and lips parted slightly still in shock.

your hand reaches forward and connects with her dick as you slip her back into her boxers and place a kiss on her cheek “you did so good for me mama” and your heart flutters at the bashful grin her lips curve into at the nickname, she kisses your cheek this time “thank you” her praises land in a shaky breath against you face.

“now be a good girl and go get some sleep f’me” and without a word she nods and begins to turn on her heels..

only to be interrupted by you.

she gasps in surprise as you press her against your bedroom wall, giving her a soft kiss, the feeling of bliss consuming you and her as you both sigh softly against eachother before you pull back, a shit eating grin on your face and butterflies in your belly “goodnight ellie” you grab your handle for her to leave before she leans forward “goodnight mama” she coos softly into your ear, making your heartbeat fall to your clit as her cockiness returns, mirroring your previous smirk and leaving your room silently, only giving you a quick glance over her shoulder as her eyes light up meeting yours then tip toeing into her room.

You watch her and miss her the second your door clicks, back landing against your door as you cover your mouth and squeal in excitement into your palm, giggling to yourself as you climb back into bed..

@williamellieslilho @yourelliewillms @bready101 @moonalumi @heygrimace @pascals-doll @infiniteinquiries @aouiaa

[narcissistshandler]

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘, 𝗕𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧

and here we go again in more smuts I write in 40 minutes randomly overnight. the choso part in the trailer keeps popping up for me all over my social media, so that's for everyone who has this man as husband! top!amab! reader and bottom!choso below. this was written to be read as gn, so if anything is wrong please let me know!

Choso always made the cutest sounds during sex. He was a very domestic and simple man, most of the time he would ask you in a soft voice to turn off the lights before continuing what you were doing, (even though you two knew the darkness of the room did little to hide the flush in his face, his open mouth in an involuntary movement or how his cock twitched at the smallest of compliments). He usually liked looking at your face during sex and blushed like a virgin when you tried anything in daylight. And after one of the neighbors complained about the noise, Choso not only started to avoid them, he also started to have a habit that you hated:

He started trying to be as quiet as possible in bed.

You weren't happy about it. It was hard to actually hear any of the moans or whimpers your husband made when you fucked him exactly like he had wanted all day during which he tried to show you with the eyes - it was never a difficult task, considering you were always itching to have him under you, anytime.

What sounded like a snarl reached your ears, muffled by the pillow Choso was hugging to his face, your pillow.

Your fingers dug into his lean hips, ring sunk into his skin in a way that should hurt and thumbs pressing hard over the knobby bones you pulled him back against you with each thrust, so hard that every time your thighs and his ass met, the twinge of pain shot through your senses.

In the low light, his long hair blended into the darkness and your shadow fell over his torso. You two were completely naked, skin to skin, and even condom use had been discarded when you entered into a relationship.

You liked having him like this, with no barriers between you, raw and messy and wet. Choso liked it too, as much as he never said it out loud, you knew.

He also liked it when you came inside him. It left him feeling used and dirty and belonging to you. It was another one of those things that would be hard to get him to admit, but that was okay too.

"I am close." Your voice filled the stuffy air in the room.

All the windows were closed and the curtains drawn, both the front door and the bedroom door were locked, making it difficult for air to circulate. The idea of getting caught during sex by anyone was mortifying to Choso to the point where he didn't even like you using the scenario as dirty talk.

Big brother thing, you concluded, even if today only you and choso were home.

Choso's knuckles turned white where he gripped the pillow, so hard that the ripping sound rang out, the golden band of the wedding ring shining even in the dark on his finger. His hole tightened around you, helping the boiling sensation of pleasure just build in your stomach.

Your hips reacted on their own, shooting forward, back into your husband's relaxed, wet hole.

"Where should I come?" you questioned, wheezing occasionally interrupting your speech. "Should I take it off?"

It was a mere tease, as you knew how possessive Choso was when it came to your cum, he hated it being wasted, but in his delusional pleasure mind, that should have sounded more like an threat.

He seemed to mutter an irritated reply that was once again muffled by the pillow.

"I can't understand what you're talking, darling," you said as you started to back away, leaving Choso's warmth. You had to fight the immediate urge to just shove back in him and fuck him until you came.

The response was immediate, Choso's hole tightening so hard it looked like it wanted to suck your cock. He pushed the pillow away, allowing you to see the trace of tears on his face and the mess of saliva on his chin.

Beautiful.

"D-don't take it off," he pleaded sweetly. Maybe because he'd been fucked for so long his voice sounded loud, almost like a scream he didn't seem aware of. "In-inside... C-come in me." He repeated, sounding desperate: "Come in me."

And who were you to deny him anything?

Using your grip on his hips, you began to fuck him, eagerly, almost violently. Your cock eased in and out of him, being engulfed by the heat of his tight walls.

Choso's lips were trembling, his whole body was trembling - you noticed right away - and you wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him. But you forced yourself to just watch as his eyes rolled back, his arms hugging the pillow to his chest as the husky, sweet moans you loved most fell from his mouth.

Your nails pressed into his skin and you came, hard, hips swaying in erratic thrusts to enjoy the pleasure coursing through you. Your cock twitched and spurted inside him, marking his entrails with your belongings.

Choso gasped for air, body writhing on the sheets and you saw the exact moment he came all over his stomach and your pillow. Coming into him was enough to send him into his own orgasm.

Now you kissed him, grabbing the pillow between your chests and throwing it towards the floor. You swallowed each of his sighs; sweat and semen forming a mess between your bodies and before the memory of the inconvenient neighbor and the anxiety of being heard by strangers during sex returned, you rotated your hips in slow circles still inside him, extracting every reaction and every ounce of pleasure from him and gently led him on for a second round, then a third...

Then, you made Choso so loud that none of the neighbors had the nerve to come and complain the next day. Inflamed by it, after being fucked to the point he limped the next day and his throat got hoarse, he never tried to hide his moans from you ever again, even at the risk of being heard by his younger brothers.

[mediumsizedpidegon]

Another avenue I want to explore in an Amity Park is Weird scenario is all the niche sub-cultures going on.

There is absolutely NO WAY there isn't a thriving goth community in Amity Park. They're holding picnics every full moon. They're holding crafting sessions in their friends' basements. They're adopting ghost animals left and right: eight-legged dogs and blob-cats, skeletal fish and neon bearded dragons.

There's a young man called Raphael who performs live music every week at a dance club with his band: he's got a myriad of shiny piercings, and a phone camera roll full of his rabbits, Morningstar and Salem. Perhaps those ghosts are bad business like the Fentons say, but the club's never felt more alive.

The scene and emo kids are multiplying at a rapid rate. The punks and grunge folks are doing shit with textiles that makes every quilting grandmother in a five mile radius swoop in to pass on their skills. Josie and Betty, old friends who periodically upload photos online of their handmade lace, suddenly gain an influx of young folks who want to learn how to make their own ghoulish patterns.

There's a new group peeling off from the goths that dress like the embodiment of Halloween– all bones, pumpkin orange and lengths of costume jewelry.

The historical costuming community is alive and well in these times, and they fall upon the few ghosts from times past willing to share knowledge like starving wolves. Their minds are full of patterning-math and fabric prices, and their excitement is, quite literally, infectious.

A revolution starts up in food service: a great many restaurants closed or moved to follow the many people who left Amity after the ghosts first came. A pair of brothers open a restaurant that has the best Polish food around: people politely don't comment on how the owners are dressed in clothes a century out of date or how their eyes gleam. Two cat cafes open, one space themed and another with loose definitions of what counts as a "cat." Assorted coffee and tea shops dot the landscape: some serve donuts, some have cupcakes, and others have breakfast wraps, sandwiches or savory hand pies.

People that can't afford to open a restaurant sell food out of their homes, advertised by cardboard signs with phrases like CAKES FOR $10, and BARBEQUE RIBS FOR SALE painted on them in gigantic bright letters. High school students bring in bags of cookies they made the night before and completely sell out of stock before the day is done. One woman's house has no signage and yet is known by word of mouth to be a herbalist, selling tins of homemade tea blends, flowers, assorted plant clippings, and cough drops.

Someone down the street of Casper High sells small batches of eco-friendly soap at a nearby corner store.

During summer time, lemonade stands are everywhere. Some of the lemonade is made with the strange fruits from one of the parks: no one dies, so it's fine.

The Farmer's Market has gotten... intense.

[wrishwrosh]

would like to share my excerpts from ch 5 “the corpse” but i would have to just post the entire chapter and it would be really embarrassing to get copyright struck by u chicago press for a tumblr post

here we fuckin GO boys

[ms-demeanor]

Also I have to say "but bands are using AI art for their album covers" is not a winning argument.

That band wasn't going to pay you. That band was going to beg somebody's artist brother for a freebie or they were going to have the people in the band who can kind of draw draw something or they were going to use a moody photo someone took with their cellphone. Best possible scenario is "they were going to trade for something from someone in the scene," and this is still the most likely scenario for bands that *give a shit* about that kind of thing.

And I've been the one doing freebie artwork for my musician friends; I've made album covers and done promo shoots, I've drawn logos and I've got a standing offer to make buttons for the cost of materials for every band I've ever played a show with. The people who give a shit in the scene are already doing this because everybody knows that everybody's broke.

I'm certain that there's not *zero* overlap between "bands that can afford to pay artists and photographers to create album artwork" and "bands that are using AI art for their album covers" but if you think "indie musician" is a demographic that has money to spare on commissioned artwork, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken.

Like. Okay, I mean my *big* argument is that AI image generation is fair use, full stop.

But the secondary argument that I've got is that I'm not sure there's a market to have the bottom fall out of.

The person making shitty covers for their amazon romance novel was not going to pay you. They were going to pay someone on fiverr eight dollars *at best* and that's only if they couldn't find a way to DIY.

That band that's trying desperately to sell ten tickets so they can play a show at the cool venue was not going to pay you to do their cover art. Their last fifty bucks just went to covering those tickets because their friends aren't even coming to their free shows. They were going to stage a photoshoot with a cellphone and a timer and someone's sister's selfie stick.

That person who made an AI avatar was not going to pay you for a custom avatar they were going to take a screenshot of your work and use that.

The people who are able to afford to pay artists and who are interested in paying artists are not the people who are replacing artists with AI. The t-shirt dropshippers, the shitty book cover designers, the bland corporate artists, and the art reposting instagram pages were the ones who undercut your market.

If you're concerned that someone is going to use AI to make art that is materially similar to yours and sell it, you're just concerned that someone is going to make art that is materially similar to yours to sell. The concerns about AI doing it are functionally exactly the same as what happens when someone says "wow, I want that on a t-shirt" under your drawing. If someone were to draw a character similar to but distinct from yours with words similar to but distinct from yours and put a link to that on a reblog of your post, that person is not actually infringing on you. They're a shithead, but that's not actually art theft. If they used your character and your words, or if they directly copy the image, that's art theft and you can try to get their post taken down. It's the exact same thing with AI.

The people who care about art and can afford to pay for it are always going to pay for it. Your problem isn't with AI, your problem is with the fact that people don't value art and that's as true now as it was a decade ago.

You are trying to sell a complicated, crocheted sundress made with 100% hand-dyed alpaca wool on Etsy and are complaining that the loose knit acrylic sundress from walmart is undercutting your market. Some people are always going to make the effort to save up and pay for your work because they value the craftsmanship, but those people didn't want to shop at WalMart in the first place. And the ones who value your craftsmanship but just plain can't afford it were going to dig through the bins at a thrift store until they found a crocheted swim cover from the seventies that they could pass off as a dress with a few alterations.

[naffeclipse]

Speakeasy

Reader x Mob Bosses!Sun and Moon

Commission Info

Many thanks to Anonymous for letting me go ham with the mob boss brothers and making them absolutely dastardly! I love the scenario for this one and just how sinister but sweet Sun and Moon can be when they have their favorite little thing sitting in their laps. The boys just love to show off what's theirs.

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You are anxious, to say the least. Two large hands escort you. One rests on your shoulder, the animatronic’s off-white and yellow thumb sliding slightly underneath the neckline of your dress to stroke the bare skin of your shoulder. The other is on your waist, dark blue and silver, keeping you close despite your urge to race straight out of the speakeasy.

The mob bosses smile down at you with the wicked, wide smiles of sharks. In no uncertain terms, they are keeping you with them.

Swallowing your visible nervousness becomes hazardous as you realize that the illegal venue is very much open for business. Instead of a nightlife of posh people prepared to spend exuberant amounts of money on smoking and drinks, then swing away on the dance floor open before a small stage for a band, there are gangsters everywhere. They line the bar stools, sit in the plush, rich leather couches and seats, and musicians play low, soft jazz as if to not disturb the entrance of the crime lords of the Celestial Gang.

Your throat becomes thick as you smell cigarettes and alcohol and sharp, overapplied cologne. Low lights burn yellow and cast thick, clogging shadows around the open room. Several animatronics already flank a center sitting room away from the bar and dance floor. Human men dressed in sleazy suits quickly move towards the mob bosses. 

The small swarm settles when Sun and Moon escort you to a fine, black leather couch big enough for just the three of you. You bow your head under the scorching attention, all eyes seemingly upon the outsider their bosses brought along to the business meeting. Your hair falls into your face as a brief curtain to the overwhelming atmosphere. 

How did you get here? One moment, you’re researching the famed Celestial Gang for a column in the newspaper which pays you well to find the best, most reliable information, and the next, you were ‘borrowed’ by none other than Sun and Moon. The crime lords have done dark and dirty deeds to keep themselves high in the underground. Why kidnap you for a few days just to put you in a red dress and take you into the heart of their illegal dealings?

“Take a seat, love.” Sun presses close to your ear, warming your face when his faceplate touches the corner of your cheekbone.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Moon’s rough voice touches you. He lifts a hand and removes the shield of your hair and sweeps it behind your face, exposing your freckles and wide, green eyes. “What would you like? A drink, perhaps, my dear?”

You recoil, revealed by force once more to the many eyes, but the real danger is the ones with their hands on you, refusing to allow you to escape. A stutter begins in your throat. Swallowing it down, you force yourself to say in a tiny, demure voice, “No, thank you.”

“Later then.” Sun nods his sharp sun rays towards a man behind the bar. He moves swiftly, his hands flying out of sight. 

Sun and Moon promptly set you down on the couch, and you can’t help but wonder if this is what a minnow feels when crowded by two sharks as they take their seats on either side of you. Caging you with their bodies, your eyes widen at how they press their legs against yours. 

Sun leans forward in the slightest to take your hand between his own and unfurl the anxious fist you made. Moon leans deeper against the backrest and slides his arm behind you, cradling your waist. Stiffening, you hold as still as a doe deer in the sights of a hunter. All the while, every last goon stares down the three of you but not a word nor electric breath leaves those who await their bosses’ command.

The man behind the bar emerges carrying a silver tray with one lowball glass filled with a rich amber liquid. Close beside it is a dark blue pack of cigarettes.

You shift in your red dress as the bartender approaches. The fabric of your gown is rich and built to flare out when dancing. You didn’t want to put this on—no matter how lovely—but Sun and Moon cowed you with firm reminders. While they’re ‘borrowing’ you, they intend to dress you as they please. 

The checkered shrug was all you could manage. It took much to convince them to allow you to wear it but you pleaded, and they seem to enjoy it, much to your embarrassment.

The bartender bows and offers the tray to Sun first. Strangely, the animatronic accepts the glass while containing your hand in his other grasp. The amber liquid swirls between his nimble fingers. The bartender crosses to the other side of the couch. Moon tilts his head. His red eyes glance at the offering in approval before plucking the pack and immediately opening it.

Your mind spins with how they might indulge in the very human vices, but to your amazement, it seems to be a sort of ritual. There’s something ceremonial about the presentation. The enjoyment of something refined and toxic without partaking.

You watch the liquor glimmer in the crystalline cup. Sun pale eyes, sharp and dagger-like, pierce you with a glance.

“It’s bourbon, dollface.” He tips the glass closer, offering it to your lips. “You couldn’t imagine how much blood and money went into acquiring this one small glass. Would you like a taste?”

You flick your gaze up. He leans over you, crowding you, dwarfing you until you’re almost sliding onto Moon’s lap. His brother eagerly keeps you in place as Sun studies you. His smile holds an edge while he squeezes your hand in the slightest.

“I shouldn’t,” you murmur, but you shrink as you speak.

Sun’s eyes flash like the tip of a blade. He lowers the glass closer still to your mouth until a rich aroma spills upward and invades your senses. 

“Oh, but I say you should.” His grin bears down upon you. “No one touches my bourbon but I do want to know if it’s as worthwhile as the bottle says. One sip, turtle dove.”

You hold his gaze, almost trembling. It won’t kill you, certainly, but this is more than the pressure of a drink.

“Okay,” you concede meekly.

Sun’s smile is lethal as he presents it to you. Gazing into the amber liquid, you lean forward, unable to even hold the glass as Sun carefully presses it to your mouth and gently tilts it. A sweet spiciness spills over your tongue, reminding you of the solar crime lord. You merely wet your lips before it smoothly slides down your throat before you turn your head away. Sun allows it, satisfied with a sharp electric click of his tongue.

“How does it taste?” he purrs, catching your chin and lifting it higher as he admires you. A flutter overtakes your middle.

“Expensive,” you manage, “and strong.”

Tilting his head, Sun’s grin widens as his voice enters a growl so sweet it matches the bourbon’s flavor, “Good. It’s earned all the blood and money I spent on it.”

A few bodies shift from foot to foot and animatronics blink a few optics. Mercifully, Sun releases your chin. Again, you duck your face to hide as the liquor cools your stomach. Only a few drops and you already feel strange and tiny like a trapped rat.

Moon flicks a lighter. The sharp spark of it catching causes you to jump, and Moon chuckles a dark, rolling sound deep within his chassis.

“Relax, baby.” His red eyes search through the curtain of your hair. “You’re in good hands.”

You take a long strand of hair hanging in your face and begin twirling it around your finger. Twisting and twisting the lock, you watch Moon methodically pick a cigarette from the pack using one hand. Slowly, he slides his arm out from behind you. A dark pulse to his gaze washes down you until he reaches for your face and sweeps back the hair dangling in front of you.

“Look me in the eyes. You’re too pretty to hide from me,” he says in both warning and affection, and it chills you to the bone. “Don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” you breathe. Every function within you shrivels under the intensity of his red eyes holding you captive.

His fingertips slide over your cheekbones, lingering for a moment as if he might count every freckle dusting your skin. You tremble inwardly. Moon shifts the cigarette dexterously to his fingers. Holding it steady, he leans forward.

“Be a doll,” Moon rasps. He’s not asking.

“I—” you take a deep breath, your heart pumping hard. “I don’t smoke.”

“I know, my dear,” Moon chuckles sinisterly. You do not doubt that he does. “You’re going to help me light it, nothing more.”

A part of you writhes but you can do little but part your lips. Your fingers twitch as if you had a hope of taking it yourself, but Sun’s firm grasp on your hand is thick as shackles and Moon is as unyielding as a cold night.

He sets it softly on your lips. Unfamiliar with such a ritual, you freeze as Moon holds out the pale flame. He cups it, looming over you while he sets the end aglow with red-hot heat, and all the while, his eyes are devouring you whole.

“Hold still,” Moon commands. 

He lights it, and on instinct, you inhale. A poor choice, considering the flood of smoke that quickly sets fire to your lungs with a singing flavor of anise. A fierce cough overtakes you. Moon takes the cigarette from your lips as Sun tuts his tongue. 

“Naughty thing,” Moon chastises as he allows you to finish your fit, but he draws the cigarette away from you, holding it perfectly between his fingers while his other hand roams your back, hitting softly until you, at last, expel the last of the forsaking tobacco now staining you fiercely.

“You need to be good, love,” Sun reminds close to your ear. His digit plays with the dangling jewelry hanging from your earlobe. A shiny, silver sword. “What are we to do with you if you can’t behave?”

You choke but for a far different reason.

“I’ll be good,” you say, unable to get out anything else but whatever might please them.

“That’s all we ask, baby.” Moon’s hand slips under your chin to turn you towards him. Your lips part as he squeezes in the slightest, and you feel like a fish with your lips puffed into a pout. “Business will only take a moment, then we’ll get back to you.”

You bleed a fierce blush at how he holds you, his eyes commanding you without restraint. You utter a pathetic sound of agreement before the crime lords share a look.

They keep you firmly in place all the while they conduct the mafia meeting. Throughout, Sun’s and Moon’s hands are constantly upon you. Sun speaks of numbers, how well the handling of merchandise such as alcohol has transpired and Moon focuses on conflict, the safety of the gang and the casualties suffered, and how to strike back against those who crossed the line against them. You listen, feeling little more than a plaything in their palms. Moon rubs your side gently. Sun traces his thumb over your knuckles. You endure their forced closeness, unable to even hide behind the curtain of your hair as per their warning.

Then, at last, Sun and Moon lean back with a sort of finality. The goons relax in the slightest, able to ease off from their strict attentiveness before a slow murmur of talk stirs the air. The music picks up a touch louder. A slow, smooth sound of jazz that fills you to the brim. You can hardly unclench your jaw before Sun and Moon share a look so devilish, you fear for your soul.

“We worked hard today, Sun,” Moon drawls out sinisterly.

“We have. We need a reward,” Sun hums, pleased and dastardly. 

“What are you talking about?” you ask, your heart racing within you.

“A dance, of course, dollface.” Sun takes your hand and lifts it high. Moon captures your other before you register how they lift you from the couch in one swift motion.

You reel as they escort you to the dance floor. One flick of Moon’s hand commands the musicians to turn up the music, and the gangsters’ eyes follow you as you’re pulled onto the last place you want to be. The dance floor. 

In one sure motion, Sun begins to remove the shrug from your shoulders. Any resistance you might have made is cut by Moon holding you in place by your chin until Sun carelessly tosses the checkered cloth off to the side. 

“Beautiful,” Moon announces. His thumb finds the tattoo of a quill on your right bicep and strokes it adoringly. You shiver under the caress.

You freeze when another presence falls into your shadow.

“Lovely little thing,” Sun says as he traces a finger along the line of your bare shoulder. Another shudder rolls down your spine.

You turn as if you might escape but Sun seizes you by the hip and lifts your arm high, twirling you until the world is a blur of low light and smoky haze, and dips you. You gasp. The same nefarious hands catch you by the waist, bowing so close to your face, the sharp crown framing Sun’s head in sharp, yellow rays takes over your vision. A blush fills you to the brim.

“There’s nothing to fear, love. We’ll lead,” Sun reassures you with a laugh that flips your heart. “Won’t we, Moon?”

“We will.” Moon answers by stealing you away into a swift step that leaves you dizzy and with a head rush. He half drags, half carries you with a tight grip on your hands. You can barely catch up. 

You flush, trying to protest that you want to leave, now, and stop being a shining new toy to show off to their underlings, but there’s no denying the crime lords. Moon sweeps your feet off the ground as he grabs your waist and lifts you in a half circle. The red fabric of your dress flares out. Your stomach drops and your heart soars.

Then you’re back on your feet. Breathless, left spinning after Sun’s dip and Moon’s twist, you can hardly register the closeness until both mob bosses are upon you. At your back, Sun clasps your hand, holding it behind your waist as if he intends to pin you against his brother. Moon likewise captures your other hand, holding it shoulder-level. Two palms fall to your hips, and in a strange, electrifying motion, Sun and Moon force you to dance with both of them.

“How do you know how to do this?” is all you can gasp. It’s too perfect. Too prepared. Sun looms over your shoulder with a lethal warmth while you turn your cheek as if you might keep both of them in your vision. Moon presses closer to you, hanging over you like the cool threat of a storm.

“We have thought long and hard about what we might do with a troublemaker like you,” Sun speaks low into your ear. “You’ve been learning too much, turtle dove.”

You stiffen in the slightest. Despite this, your feet are caught in their rhythm, slowly spinning in time to the romantic tune floating in the air.

“What?” you breathe. “How did you—”

“We have our ways,” Moon reminds. He tilts his head, his fedora covering the lowlight and shadowing his face even deeper. 

They know. You found out their relation to their elder brother. The police chief.

You also found that they haven’t spoken to each other in years.

Your pulse picks up in horror. This is what this has been about. This whole time, the cat-and-mouse game, is because they’re going to kill you.

“Please,” you say, trembling. Their hands squeeze your own. 

“Hm? Speak up, love,” Sun laughs, taunting you. “I can’t hear you.”

“Don’t kill me,” you say it starkly, quietly. Your eyes are wide. There is nowhere to hide while they trap you between their chassis. 

Moon stares at you, his red eyes darkening into crimson before he releases your waist and slowly leans down. He captures your face between his palms. With Sun holding you in place, there is nowhere to run. You close your eyes.

A brush of something cool and tasting of anise falls against your lips. You start under the lunar crime lord’s kiss. When you open your eyes, his grin is pleased, wicked. He holds you a moment longer under his sharp teeth.

“That would be a waste, don’t you think?” he rasps.

Sun grunts something before he spins you around by the hips. Moon allows him, and he takes you by the waist to keep you on your feet while Sun looks upon you with desire so fiery, that you fear it will engulf you. His pale eyes gnaw away at your every edge.

“I thought…” you murmur senselessly. 

“You thought wrong.” Sun presses a finger to your lips with a wicked grin. “I need to take a bite out of you too.”

This time, your eyes are wide open when he bends down to press his faceplate to your lips, and you gasp underneath his hungry kiss. He pushes and pulls, and you almost sway were it not for the Moon stabilizing you. Sun releases you slowly, greedily.

“That’s right, dollface,” Sun purrs as Moon presses close and kisses the back of your neck. “We have plans for you.”

[veronicaphoenix]

talk some sense to me | n.s.

Summary: Everybody thinks Noah is a Casanova. The truth is, that's just a façade to keep his romance with his best friend's sister a secret.

"Nicholas' sister was off-limits. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away."

one shot ✨ word count: 2.9k pairing: noah sebastian x reader (nicholas' sister) tags and trigger warnings: 'forbidden' romance', reader is nicholas ruffilo's younger sister, reader is a uni student, long-distance relationship (sort of), fluff, angst, implied and mentioned sexual scenarios (but not described in detail), open ending (sorry).

author's note: i wrote this in a couple of hours and i did some minimal editing after. i had this random story cross my mind yesterday and thought i could turn it into a short fic, but with so many wips, i decided it to keep it a one shot <3 maybe one day it'll turn into a fic, who knows. For now, I hope you like it! 💕

“This is wrong,” Noah whispers as he kisses her, his mouth trailing down her jaw and neck. 

            The way she tilts her head to give him more access makes him feel dizzy and lucky at the same time. 

            “So wrong,” his voice vibrates against her pulse. 

            Her hands tangle in his hair, and he revels in the way she occasionally pulls at it, sending a jolt of ecstasy down his spine. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

            “Then stop,” she murmurs, her voice equally breathless, consumed by a sensation she can’t quite name. 

            But she can; it’s called Noah, her brother’s best friend. 

            “I don’t want to,” he replies, sucking at a spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy. 

            He hasn’t wanted to stop for over two years. 

            They know they’re playing with fire, especially tonight.

            Nick is in the living room, the ongoing party keeping him oblivious to the fact that his childhood best friend, Noah, has taken his little sister to an adjacent room at the back of the house to devour her mouth and touch her in ways no other man ever has. 

            It’s not the first time. 

            Noah has been captivated by her long enough to be her first. If Nick ever found out, he would surely kill him. 

            His sister was off-limits. Always had been. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away. 

            He’d seen her grow up, transform from a shy teenager into an independent, confident woman. He saw her reject boys and girls who weren’t enough for her, saw her move away to pursue her studies at Harvard. She was away for an entire year, only coming home for the holidays. Noah didn’t see her for over 365 days, missing every chance he had to see her. After so long without seeing her, he grasped why he felt so miserable, why he’d felt like something was missing from the moment she said goodbye at a party and he stood there stupidly waving his hand, wishing her a safe flight and a good time at Harvard. Pathetic, he thought.

            Two summers later, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she joined the band to watch his brother and friends make music or play at nearby venues. She was no longer a teenager. Her hair was trimmed shorter, she had gained some weight and looked healthier, and the color in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes whenever she stared at something that fascinated her didn’t go unnoticed. 

            Noah thought he was out of his mind when he saw that spark every time she looked at him. 

            When the 4th of July came and the group was at a bonfire party by the beach, watching the fireworks, his hand had brushed hers as they stood looking up at the sky. She turned her head to look at him, and the smile she wore lit up his entire world. 

            She was the missing piece in his life, the muse behind all his writings, dreams, and songs.

            Two hours later, as everyone dispersed, he found her alone, sitting by the shore, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. He was the first to notice something wasn’t right. She confided in him: it had been a hard year at school. She wasn’t sure she was good enough or if she wanted to continue her studies. She questioned whether it was truly her path, what she was meant to do. 

            The insecurity wasn’t unfamiliar to Noah. He reassured her it was just a phase, a cloud of self-doubt that had settled over her. 

            “But it’ll soon pass,” he told her, sitting down next to her. “I know how much you love what you’re doing, even if you don’t feel like it right now. You’ve been interested in that field since you were a kid, right?” 

            How did he know that? 

            “Nick,” he said, “he used to mention it a lot.” 

            That was a lie, of course. Noah had been paying attention to her interests since she was barely a teenager, always captivated by her enthusiasm and eagerness to learn new things. 

            By midnight, he let her cry against his shoulder, her face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie, holding on to him with eyes full of tears. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, then quickly moved away, expecting him to leave, horrified that she had crossed the line. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him, kissing her back. Not much later, he had her pinned against a street wall after offering to walk her home, his mouth pressing down on hers, one hand cradling her face and the other holding her waist. She kissed him with the same intensity, as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

            That’s when she said the same words he was uttering two years later: “This is wrong.”

            It was, but neither of them cared, and so they met again the next day, alone, for a walk on the beach. Noah bought them ice cream and held her hand as they walked barefoot on the sand, the waves lapping at their feet with the Californian sun setting on the horizon. They talked about her studies, about the band, about Nick. They decided to keep this (him and her) a secret. After the evening spent together, he kissed her goodbye and chuckled when she said she wanted to see him again, like this; that she wanted to have him all to herself. 

            He wanted the same.

            It wasn’t the thrill of danger that brought them together; they learned that very quickly. It was a pull that had always been there, perhaps even before she turned eighteen. Noah had only ever had eyes for her, no matter how many other girls came and went. She had always been the girl from his dreams, and he made sure he was in hers from that moment onwards.

            Two years later, she finds herself perched on a piece of furniture at someone’s house. She doesn’t even know the host’s name. Noah doesn’t either. But it’s her last day in California before returning to Boston to complete her degree, and damn it if he’s not going to spend every last minute with her, kissing her.

            The problem?

            Nick is also there.

            For the past two years, they had been meeting in places where Nick wasn’t, at times when he wouldn’t wonder why Noah and his little sister were missing at the same time. It had been hard. The opportunities were few, and even though they never labeled themselves a couple, they behaved like one, even in the dark. Noah would call her right when he knew she was about to sleep, and she would text him updates on her studies and daily life, letting him know she wished he were there with her in Boston. She dreamed of going to cafés together and taking walks along the coast.

            Noah had hoped to make that dream come true more than once, and that one time he took a flight to Boston to surprise her was well worth it. Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and Bad Omens had just returned from an overseas tour. He didn’t hesitate before hopping on another plane just to see her.

            The most memorable moment of that weekend was probably Nick’s unexpected and ill-timed phone call. Noah and she had been lazily lounging on her bed, tangled in each other’s limbs, sharing stories, tender kisses, and innocent touches. When her iPhone’s screen lit up and they read Nick’s name, their hearts skipped a beat.

            “Shit, he said he would call me to discuss our parents’ anniversary,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, cursing her brother for such bad timing. She didn’t want to miss a second with Noah.

            “Pick up, it’s fine,” Noah said, lying on his side with an arm draped across her stomach.

            “What? No. What if he hears you?”

            “I’ll stay as still as a statue.”

            She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was just pretending to behave. “You promise?”

            He lifted his pinky finger to her.

            With a resigned sigh, she hooked hers with his and a moment later answered Nick’s call.

            Of course, Noah didn’t stay still.

            The moment she sat upright on the bed and greeted her brother, Noah started tickling her. At first, it was just a little, making her squirm and swat at his hand. She was still able to have a normal conversation, but then Noah’s ministrations increased and her laughter couldn’t be contained.

            “What’s going on?” Nick asked from the other side of the phone.

            “Nothing,” she said, trying to kick Noah, but instead, he grabbed her foot and took her sock off before pretending to want to bite her toes.

            “I thought you were in your room.”

            “I am,” she said firmly, sending a stern look to Noah, who lifted his arms and pretended to retreat.

            Pretended. 

            Just when she thought he was finally going to behave, he undid the button of her jeans, eyeing her wickedly as her eyes widened. She mouthed a “no,” but it fell on deaf ears. Noah took off her jeans and removed her underwear. A moment later, he was settled between her legs, his nose brushing her most sensitive area.

            She sucked in a deep breath, thinking she was going to die for more than one reason.

            It was Nick who disconnected the call. The moment he realized she was with a boy, he shouted, “Ugh! You could’ve told me! This is disgusting!” and without a goodbye, he ended the call.

            She was already lost in pleasure. Her iPhone dropped to the floor, and soon enough, all she could utter was Noah’s name over and over again. 

But things weren’t always this beautiful and fun.

            It got hard sometimes. Some nights she cried, and other times Noah was sure she would find someone else—probably another student her age who could take her out on dates and introduce her to his family.

            It had been a struggle, but they fought to make it work. Every time she returned to California, Noah was the one to pick her up at the airport. Nick thought she always took an Uber, completely unaware that his sister had arrived hours earlier and was already in Noah’s bed, savoring the weight of his body on hers, or maybe his tongue between her legs, or the weight of his length in her mouth and his words of praise flooding her senses.

            Despite their deep feelings for each other, maintaining a relationship that they refused to label grew increasingly difficult.

            That’s why tonight they had abandoned all the rules and locked themselves in a room, mere feet away from the rest of the party—and from Nick.

            “I don’t want to go,” she whispers as Noah’s lips trail across her chest. She’s wearing a thin V-neck tank top, and he can’t help but kiss the valley of her breasts.

            “We have to tell Nick,” he murmurs back. “I’m fucking tired of this—of not being able to kiss you in front of everyone, of not being able to follow you wherever you go, of not being able to take you on dates in town.”

            “He’s not going to like it...” she’s half-gone, half-present. She can’t think straight when Noah’s lips and hands are on her. But she’s faintly aware of what he’s saying, of what he’s proposing.

            “Not my fucking problem,” he says, sucking at her sweet spot and making her moan. “I want to be there when you graduate,” he continues, nibbling at her shoulder, “to take pictures of my girl and use them as my wallpaper. I want to take you back to your dorm afterward and give you graduation sex.”

            She snorts, then grabs his face to pull him away from her chest so she can look into his eyes.

            “Graduation sex? Is that even a thing?”

            “I don’t know,” he admits, smiling with eyes full of adoration, “but I’m willing to make it a thing.”

            After a moment of staring at each other, their eyes soften.

            “I want you to be there more than anything,” she admits.

            “Then we have to tell him,” he concludes. “It’s time.”

            She can do nothing but agree. He’s right. At some point, Nick needs to know, and so do the rest of their friends and family.

            Noah hasn’t said he loves her yet, and neither has she, but isn’t it obvious? At least, that’s what she likes to think. She knows she’s been in love with him for years but hasn’t mustered the courage to tell him. A devil on her shoulder keeps whispering that he’s an artist, a rockstar. What if he eventually gets tired of her? They’re on very different career paths. What if he chooses to let her go?

            If Noah senses her sudden distress, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans down again to capture her lips, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath the black skirt she’s wearing. His tongue is about to dance with hers when the door swings open.

            “Noah, have you seen my sister?” 

            It’s Nick. 

            The room is dark, but it’s obvious he’s going to find out in the next two seconds. “She’s been missing since...”

            As they pull away from each other, her face comes into view. Nick’s eyes widen, but he’s frozen in place. She jumps down from where she’s seated, and Noah steps back, putting some distance between them.

            “Nick...” Noah starts, lifting an arm.

            For a moment, no one says anything. The heavy music from the party thumps in the background.     Nick’s hand is still on the doorknob, and he suddenly looks paler.

            It doesn’t take much for him to understand. It’s the aura of comfort surrounding his best friend and his sister, the confidence exuding from them the moment he caught them, the shared look they exchanged a moment ago. This has been going on for a long time, right? They’ve been seeing each other behind his back. Who knows what things Noah has done to her?

            Nick’s throat tightens. When he’s able to react, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

            “Fuck,” Noah mutters, making a move to go after him, but she stops him.

            “Let me,” she says. “He’s my brother. I’ll handle him.”

            She searches for Nick for five minutes until she finds him outside, sitting on the pavement with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t care about her apologies, her stories, her feelings for his best friend, or the fact that they were planning to tell him soon. He doesn’t want to listen.

            It shouldn’t be like this. It should have never been like this. Not Noah and her. Not ever. They lied to him, deceived him to his face, kept it a secret. How many times had they laughed behind his back?

            He’s never going to forgive them.

   ��        “Please, listen to me,” she begs.

            He continues with his back to her, refusing to face her, to see her expression of guilt—or perhaps the lack thereof. Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty, which just makes it worse. 

            “I hope you’ve enjoyed this game,” he says, a cloud of smoking leaving his lips.

            She’s confused for a second, then she understands: Nick is not going to believe whatever she says about her feelings. He also thinks that Noah is not the kind of guy to have just one girl. Nick has had to deal with the version of Noah that she and he had decided he would show in front of others: one totally uninterested in the little sister and completely into every girl they met at the club. 

            Nick thinks Noah is a bad influence on her, that he’s going to break her heart.

            “It’s not a fucking game,” a voice says from behind them. She turns around and finds Noah approaching. She wants to tell him to stay away, to let her handle it, but she knows Noah is more stubborn than she is and won’t let her deal with this alone. “It’s never been.”

            That elicits a reaction from Nick. He chuckles, a sarcastic sound, and stands up to face them both, letting his unfinished cigarette fall on the ground.

            “You’re a fucking Casanova, Noah. Playing with girls is all you do.”

            “I’m not that kind of man,” he says, sternly, maintaining his cool.

            She was about to let panic take over, but Noah was keeping his composure on check, even though they’d both been scared of this moment for weeks, months, years. 

            “You’re not?” Nick’s voice drips with cynicism. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that you’re not using her?! That you didn’t get into her head and are playing with her?! That you’re not going to break her heart the moment you get what you fucking want?!”

            His words sting her, as they do Noah. He wants to tell Nick that he’s completely wrong, but it’s not his fault. He and she had made her brother believe that he was that exact type of man to avoid him finding out about them, but now the consequences are showing. 

            Instead of trying to explain or justify himself in any way, Noah just says what he should have said long ago, what he should have told her. He’s honest and raw. He’s admitting what he should’ve admitted even before he had her naked under him for the first time. 

            When she hears him, all the fear she’s ever had about the boy she loves disappears, because finally, she knows he feels the same, that all that connection they’ve had and built for years has been real.

            “I’m in love with her.”

            It just a sentence, but it changes everything. 

Taglist: @crossedxoceans | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel <3

[sarawritestories]

hiii i cant get ur fics out of my head so i thought i'd request one! i came across this vid on tiktok and i'd love to see your take on a cassian x reader fic w this vibe HAHAHA i dont mind whoever would be character a or b in this scenario so i leave it in your capable hands! my only specific request is that they're both in the IC hihi

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFay7B7J/

This was a lot of fun to write! I hope I did this request justice for you!

I Won't Say I'm In Love

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: You are toe to toe in a sparring match with Cassian when he eventually has you pinned to the ground. After some banter Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie confront you about your feelings for him and it's later that night when the four of you are having a girls night do you realize what your feelings truly are.

Content Warnings: None

Word Count 1.7K

A/N: This song was stuck in my head as I wrote this.

ACOTAR Masterlist

You were sparring with Cassian, sweat trickling down your back as the sun unleashed the cruel heat of summer upon you. Opting to take off your leathers and kept the band around your chest and leggings just to keep your cool.  “Don’t give up on me now, Sweetheart.” He lunged an attack that you easily dodge.

“Who said anything about giving up, I’m just getting started.” You swiped your leg to the back of his knee, his hand gripping your calf.

Your eyes widened as he gave me a playful grin, both of us realizing my error. In a quick sweep Cassian maneuvered you to where your chest pressed against the mat and his chest was pressed against your back. His legs wrapped around yours locking you in place. You squirmed under him as he grazed his fingers lightly up your bare torso and you sucked in a breath as his calloused hands reached your arms where he pinned your wrist. You tried to break his grip as heat blasted to your cheeks. Cassian flared his wings and shade consumed the two of you, a reprieve from the unyielding sun. You continued to wiggle under his grip, He leaned in and whispered, “Stop wiggling.”

You scowled and continued your writhing, “You’re not the boss of me, you prick.”

Cassian chuckled, “I’m your general, Sweetheart. That does in fact make me the boss of you.” He gripped your wrist tighter, “I order you to stop wiggling.”  You rolled your eyes, and wiggled anyway and he growls low in your ear, heat pooling in your belly. “I will put you in Az’s dungeon for insubordination if you keep it up. Let the Shadowsinger remind you how to act around your superiors.”

You turned your head and batted your eyelashes at him, “Is that a promise, General?”  You emphasized his title and suddenly the pressure of his body is on you.  You turned on your back to sit up and saw him stalking back into the House of Wind, his wings ruffling. Nesta stepped forward offering you a hand, Gwyn and Emerie not far to follow.

“When are you going to put that insufferable bat out of his misery?” Nesta questioned with a quizzical brow.

You frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gwyn rolled her eyes and looped her arms through yours, “Everyone knows that he is in love with you. I mean the way he looks at you and touches you.”

You laughed, “Gwyn, I think those romance novels are going to your head. We’re just friends, he’s just a flirt. Besides, I don’t even like him like that. He’s like my brother.”

That much was true Rhys had met you in Hewn City when you were both teenagers. You were about to get married off and taking the steps down the aisle when Cassian and Azriel came in and swooped you out of the city and into Velaris. Rhysand then placed you in charge of working with the citizens of the city of Starlight to help with any repairs or issues that needed to be taken care of. And had been a part of the Inner Circle ever since, it was helping train Nesta and the Valkyries that brought you true joy the three girls bringing you such a light in your life.

Nesta rolled her eyes as we all headed into the House. “Whatever, you say, but he never calls anyone else, Sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and kept quiet as the four of you walked through the dining room where Azriel sat. “Hello, ladies, how was training?” He addressed the group, but his eyes lingered on the red head on my arm.”

Gwyn just smirked, “Fantastic, Cassian was about to devour his Sweetheart on the mat today. It was romantic.” You glared at her, and her Teal eyes twinkled with mischief.

Azriel chuckled drawing my gaze to the spymaster as he looked at me, “Did he now?”

You crossed my arms, “No he didn’t, all he did was pinned me down and threatened to throw me in your dungeons. Also, Gwyn didn’t even”

Az looked to Gwyn, “You have a strange idea of Romance did you know that?”

Gwyn winked at him, and his shadows swirled in response. “Oh, you have no idea, Shadowsinger.”

Feeling the tension in the room, I announced, “Okay well now that we established that Cassan was not coming on to me, and whatever the Hel is going on with you two,” Both Az and Gwyn blush and avert the other one’s gazes, “I’m in need of a bath I’ll see you later tonight.” You walked over and kissed Az’s cheek. “Shadowsinger.”

“Sweetheart.” Az teased, you flipped him off and headed to your room. Cleaning off the sweat and grime of the day, the cold bite of the chilled bath cooling your overheated skin.

Everyone knows that he’s in love with you.

Gwyn’s words reverberated in your mind. Up until you walked into the library where your friends were waiting for you later that night, pajamas on and books in hand. “Ready for book club?” You asked, taking a seat next to Emerie, her hair in her regular braid.

“Yes, let’s begin.” Nesta said pointed stare looking you up and down with a smirk on her face. Looking down at the black silk shorts and top your eyes widened where the red lace was peeking through. You tugged down your shirt as Nesta began reading some of her favorite passages.

“Didn’t you just adore when the knight, came in to help the maiden with her nightmare, even though he has claimed time and again he doesn’t care about her.” Gwyn swooned and your mind drifted.

“Sweetheart, wake up!”

You opened your eyes and met with Cassian’s hazel ones. His hands cupped your cheeks, wiping the stray tears from your face. Cassian’s face held worry there. “What’s going on?” You whispered, voice hoarse and strained.

“You were screaming, calling for help. I came in you were thrashing about in your bed. Scratched me good,” You noticed then that his cheek had a slight gash that was already healing. “Nightmare?”

Your lip wobbled and you gave him a nod. He wiped the sweat soaked strands of hair out of my face. “Stay with me?” you whimpered.

Cassian pressed his forehead to yours and your eyes fluttered close, “Of course, Sweetheart.” And Cassian wrapped you in his arms wings covering you as if his wing could protect you from any impending nightmare to come your way.

Emerie’s voice broke you from your reverie, “I am particularly fond of when the knight dances with her at the ball.

Another memory flashed forward:

You dropped your bag and fought the tears; nothing was more embarrassing than having a date stand you up. A hand gripped your wrist, and the familiar scent of sandalwood told you who it was. You turned and found Cassian there his hair down and stubble grazing his cheeks, “I thought you were on a date tonight?”

I shrugged, “Someone has to show up for it to be considered a date.” His face fell and he gripped your hand, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” He paused and glanced at you clad in a blue striped sundress. “Come here.” He pulled you close to him, his large hand splayed across your back as he pressed your chest your head reached his chest.

“What are you doing?” You asked, placing your own hand on his arm as he gripped your other hand, as he began to sway his wings tucked in.

“I’m dancing with a beautiful female,” Cassian grinned as he turned you both around the room. His grin was contagious and instantly the tears threatening to spill were gone and instead you began to laugh as he twirled you around until you both had exhausted yourselves and he simply held you close and swayed late into the evening.

Nesta’s snapping your face brought you back to the group, “Sorry, I guess my head isn’t here.”

Nesta smirked, “We were just wanting to know. Your favorite part of the book.”

You looked down and grazed your fingers over the cover of the book, “Um I enjoyed the scene, where Cassian-” You blinked and looked up at the girls all three smirking back at you. Then as though a ton of bricks had crashed down on you of memories flashing through of all the times Cassian has interacted with you, and your feelings came flooding to the surface you bolted up from my seat, “OH WHAT THE FUCK! OH GOD.”

Gwyn smiled and crossed her legs, Resting her head on her palm, “What’s the matter, Y/N?”

Not responding to them you bolted from the library and descended the stairs, the plush carpet squishing the bottom of your feet as you barged into Cassian’s room not bothering to knock.

Cassian jolted from his bed, dropping the book he was reading, replacing it with a knife ready, a general ready for battle. His face softened when he realized it was you, his hair was in a bun, a few strands falling down his face, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his chiseled body, and tattoos on full display. His brow furrowed as he noticed your rapid breathing, “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

Shutting the door, you leaned against it, “I love you.” You murmured looking down at your feet.

“Come again?” You looked up and Cassian had put the knife down, his chest still as though he wasn’t breathing.

You took a step forward, “I love you, Cassian.”

Cassian closed the distance between the two of you, your heart began to quicken as he gripped your waist “Say it one more time for me, Sweetheart.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I. Love. You.”

He growled, “Finally.” He pressed his lips to yours the warmth of his bare chest seeping into your bones as pulled him closer deepening the kiss.

He pulled away his thumbs grazing your hip bones, “I have loved you for so long.” He whispered against Your lips.

“I’m sorry it took so long.” you whispered back. “I’m here now and I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Cassian smiles. “Mine.” He pecked your lips, as he slapped your ass eliciting a moan. “All fucking mine.” He kissed you again before pulling away, and kissing your nose, “Now be a good girl and take off your clothes for me.”

You smile as you grip the hem of your top, “Yes, General.”

Part 2 can be found here

[pauli-writes]

warning: fluff, gepard and reader are already in a relationship, gepard is a down bad for reader (i am not sorry)

pairing: gepard x reader; serval is also there

author’s note: i promise i’m working on requests, in the meantime take this, because wow i’m very behind on requests— (also definitely not proof read)

serval watched in amusement as gepard paced up and down in her shop. the reason for his troubles was you, poor innocent you.

the story between you and gepard was nothing short out of a book. him, the son of a noble family and you, the child of a simple shopkeeper. the two of you became friends when you were young children, and eventually started dating as teens and then stayed together through everything, even the stellaron crisis and the entire aftermath.

serval has watched this relationship grow since its first day, and has been rooting for the two of you since the beginning as well. and now here she was listening to her brother’s nervously telling her about his plan to propose to you now that everything has settled on belobog and thing were going well.

“serval, what would i even say?” he murmured as he paced. “what if they say no?”

the older landau chuckled, “you worry too much. i’m sure they won’t. they adore you.”

gepard sighed. “i know, i know. i just don’t want to get this wrong.”

“get what wrong?”

both serval and gepard jumped at the sound of your voice. how did you enter the shop with either of them noticing?

“nothing.” they replied simultaneously. you raised your eyebrows in suspicion, but dropped asking further questions. instead you walked closer and went to stand next to gepard. he looked a little nervous, which was unbefitting of him. serval meanwhile was watching him with an amused smile, which was very in character for her.

“okay… anyways, are we still going to dinner tonight?” you asked and gepard, almost automatically, nodded his head.

“yes, of course!”

“great, i’ll be ready at seven.” you got on to your tippy toes and pressed a kiss on his cheek, before leaving the shop with a wave. gepard watched you as you left and serval could see the smitten expression on her baby brother’s face. all of you had grown older and matured in your own ways, but this expression of pure unadulterated adoration was as unchanging as the ice and snow on belobog.

“geppie, you need to propose to them tonight.”

“serval-“

“don’t worry it will be fine.” and she said it with such conviction and confidence that gepard believed her if only for a moment.

later that day gepard picked you up from your home and walked you the restaurant you had a reservation at. he was the perfect gentleman throughout the night, what you didn’t know was the ring sitting idly in his pocket, making him more nervous by the second.

he was so concerned about trying to find the right moment, only for dinner to be over before you knew it. he mentally cursed himself as the two of you walked out the restaurant, if he didn’t propose now, he would never propose.

you, completely unaware of his inner turmoil, kept talking about your work and your daily life. then you heard the familiar melody of a guitar. “oh, look. serval is playing on the street. let’s go see.”

gepard could barely register your words before he was pulled along to where his sister was giving a small performance. a number of people were already crowding around her, but she easily spotted her baby brother and his partner. the two landaus locked eyes and serval gave her brother a look that said, “have you done it?” to which he shook his head with an almost ashamed expression.

it was time for plan b then, serval cut her current song short and started playing a song she knew you liked because of you visiting when she was practicing with her band. it was a bit slower than her usual work, but just perfect for this scenario

“oh, i like this song,” you said, humming along to the melody.

gepard chuckled at your adorable behaviour, “i know you do…” he locked eyes with serval again, and she nodded her head at him with a confident smile. “listen, reader, i’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

you turned your full attention to him as he took a deep breath. “we have been together for a while. i still remember when i first saw you in your parents shop as children, and now here we are, grown up and belobog is starting to rebuild itself too. what I’m trying to say is, i would like to spend the rest of my life with you, so will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

“yes, of course!” you replied without hesitation, jumping into his arms and hugging him tightly. gepard was a bit startled, and so were the people who were standing next to the two of you. after a few seconds you pulled away again, but a giddy smile remained, “i was wondering why you were so nervous the entire week. i’m glad it’s because of this and not some work related thing.”

“i’m just glad you said yes,” he said, taking your hand and slipping the ring on it. “i don’t know what i would have done if you hadn’t.”

you smiled at him, not even concerned about the expensive ring. “there is no universe in the world where i would ever say no to you, gepard.”

“noted.” he said with a flustered expression, his cheeks turning a little red.

serval watched from where she was playing her guitar with a smile. she stopped playing for a moment and shouted, “hey, congratulations you two lovebirds!”

everyone turned to look at you and gepard and you both blushed deeply in embarrassment.

as you all grow older some things may change and evolve, other things are constant, like gepard’s love for you… or serval’s teasing.

[sailoryooons]

Maybe suga x reader where they watch a scary movie together. One of them is scared and the other pretends to be scared, I don’t care who 😊 just a cute fluffy mess. Friends to crushes, they can confess or not (whatever you want to do) but I just wanna giggle and kick my feet LOL 🥺

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x gn reader 

☾ Summary: Yoongi hates scary movies. He’ll never tell you that of course, content to suffer through your October scary movie marathon if it means getting to snuggle up to you on the couch. 

☾ Word Count: 1,254

☾ Genre: Humor, Fluff, Mutual Crushes

☾ Rating: SFW 

☾ Warnings: Mentions of being afraid of movies/clowns, Yoongi has Trauma from IT lmao, mentions of movie deaths, unconfessed feelings, a little bit of pining, really nothing else 0 this is short and sweet. 

☾ Published: Sunday, September 15 2024

☾ A/N: I actually love the idea of Yoongi who is afraid of scary movies but watches them because it makes reader happy :) I hope you enjoy it!! 

☾ A/N 2: There are no gendered terms or references to this reader, so I have labeled it as general neutral for the purposes of this fic. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Haliween 

Yoongi has never liked scary movies. He remembers the first time he saw one, having snuck into the living room when his older brother wasn’t watching to curl in the armchair, eyes fixated on the screen. He remembers the way his fear became deep rooted, eyes wide as a killer clown murdered everyone in Derry, dragging them down to the sewers.

He’s hated scary movies since then - especially ones with clowns. 

Yet he can’t help but let you drag him into your annual month-long marathon of Halloween movies. Some of them aren’t so bad - your marathoning isn’t exclusive to things that terrify him and keep him staring up at the ceiling at night with the bathroom door open and lights on. Like Hocus Pocus - that was a great film and he’d slept soundly afterward. 

Tonight is not going to be like that. You’ve primed him for days leading up to tonight, gushing about how Scream is your favorite and you want him to try and guess who the killer is before the big reveal. He’s not very good at guessing, but the way your eyes light up when you open your apartment door to find him with popcorn and soda in hand make it worth it.

A lot of things are worth it with you. Like going to the farmer’s market on a really busy day, or going to some pretentious coffee shop forty minutes away because their rose latte is your favorite, or being dragged to a very crowded bar to see a band that you like. 

Your friendship with Yoongi shouldn’t make sense. You like bright sunny days and going outside on walks, venturing into crowded places to watch people, introducing yourself to new friends and chatting with people at the bar. Yoongi likes cold and rainy days and staying inside, keeping to himself at the few places he’s familiar with, and tucking away in a corner with his headphones. 

He likes to say you adopted him as a joke, but it’s not really a joke. You have adopted him into your friends circle, bringing the quiet boy from your freshman algebra class into the fold. Years later, you still greet him with the same oozing excitement as the first time you introduced yourself, bursting at the seams with kindness. 

“You didn’t cheat and look up anything, right?” you demand, suddenly serious as you sit down on your couch and fold your legs. He smirks and shakes his head, brushing the dark hair out of his eyes as he sits in the middle. “Good. You need to make honest guesses.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know the rules.”

Your grin is blinding and for a second, the world is nothing but the beat of Yoongi’s thundering heart and your smile. He blinks and shakes it off, watching you from the corner of his eye as you settle into the blankets, throwing the corner toward him to keep him warm. 

Tentatively, he pulls the covers over his knees as he pulls them up onto the couch. The blankets are from your bed so they smell like you, vanilla and cinnamon. Hitting the lights on the back of the couch, you douse your apartment into darkness as the TV flickers to life, opening up the movie’s beginning.

Yoongi’s heart is already pounding. Both at how close you are and at the anticipation for what’s going to come on screen. Slasher movies aren’t his favorite, a little too realistic for him to comfortably watch them. 

Still, he watches with muted interest as Casey answers an old school phone, leaning on a counter while the world’s most unsettling voice talks to her through the receiver. 

“That voice would freak me out,” Yoongi admits. “What’s that one we watched with the you’re gonna die in seven days?” 

“The Ring.”

“Yeah. People need to stop answering phones.”

“You gonna stop answering my phone calls?”

He pouts. “No.” 

Your laugh is like tinkling silver. He grins, pleased as you lean toward him, shifting so that your arms are pressed together and your head is resting on his shoulder. He lets you snuggle him despite the fact that for the next five minutes, he can barely follow what’s happening on screen because his heart is slamming and his thoughts are dizzy. 

Yoongi has no idea if you know how he feels. He doesn’t think you do - there’s no way you’d cuddle up to him and make him flustered and confused if you did. You’re not the kind of person to lead him on, which leaves him stranded in a sea of do you or don’t you like him. 

It’s a puzzle he keeps trying to solve himself without asking you, which has resulted in zero solves or answers. 

Yoongi flinches the first time Ghostface comes on screen, mouth tilting downward. You peer up at him, eyes wide. The TV light reflects in your eyes as you watch him, a question in your gaze. He clears his throat. “Caught me off guard.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Yoongi feels his heart race when Casey begins running across the field on screen. He can almost imagine what it must be like to run for your life, chased by some crazy person in a mask and - 

The movie pauses. He blinks and looks at where you’re watching him, smirking. “What? He asks, eyes wide. “Why’d you pause it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you don’t like scary movies?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Yoongi, you’re squeezing my thigh.”

He becomes hyper aware that his hand is on your thigh, squeezing tightly as his anxiety increases. He feels warmth spread up his neck and he lets you go, turning away to hide the way his ears and cheeks turn red. You giggle and he squirms under the embarrassment, looking anywhere but you.

“Come on,” you urge. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You like scary movies.”

“So?”

“So,” he emphasizes, pouting. He won’t look at you, suddenly interested in his nail beds as you continue to stare at him. It’s dark in your apartment and you still sit close to him, thigh pressed against his. “I enjoy doing what you enjoy.” 

“We can watch something else.” 

He shakes his head. “Really, it’s okay. I want to find out who the killer is.” 

You chew on your lower lip, the silence heavy for a minute. “Would it help if I held your hand?” His eyes shoot up to look at you, checking if you’re serious. It seems you are, all the humor vanishing from your face as you stare at him with an earnest expression. “Only if you want to.”

“Maybe.”

Your lips twitch in a smile. “What if I told you it would help me if we held hands?”

“Then definitely.” 

When you smile, Yoongi knows you’re onto him. He feels his stomach flip when you lean in close, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon making his head swim as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He feels warm all over, fingers and toes buzzing as you settle back into the couch much closer to him. 

He stretches his hand toward you and you link your fingers with his. He grins at the warmth of your palms and the way you tug your laced fingers into your lap, leaning into his shoulder again. Hiding his smile, he relaxes into the back of the couch, ready to take on any scary movie in the world if it means having whatever this is with you.

“Press play,” he urges, leaning his head on yours. “I can definitely do this now.” 

-

TAG LIST

@wobblewobble822 @idkjustlovingbts @teddytae @veronawrites

@bts-ruu @tumeperds @ashtonkeller @ivyrosewater @secfir

@hoseokshobagi @warren-thedarkangel @poptartsandpopstars @itsmina29

@valhallawhispers @yoongiofmine @sumzysworld @vanishingboots

@astroodledream @myynameisbuckyy

If you don't see your tag here, Tumblr would not let me tag you.

[rexscanonwife]

'Are we allies or enemies?

This will be the death of me

All is fair in love and war but I can't fight with you anymore

This will be the death of me'

I've been wanting to talk more about Crosshair and Brea's relationship for a WHILE now, but I never really found the 'right' time (in my silly brain) I guess you can say they...know each other very well! As you can imagine it's filled with drama, romantic tension, and lots and lots of angst! 0u0 a little more info + textless illustrations under the cut ♡♡♡

Sooooo, I tend to think of this as sort of an AU! If I'm being SUPER duper canon-compliant with my self ship lore it's not really the focus, but if I play around with timeline a little bit I can come up with this. Brea is a newly knighted Jedi, having just passed the trials, and despite holding rank in the Clone Wars she's not a general because she has no battalion. HOWEVER, there is a band of misfits that have been sort of running around doing their own thing, going where needed, sort of the way she does. The idea is what if for a short time she was the BAD BATCH'S Jedi?

In this scenario, the boys are a bit reluctant to take orders from her because they don't believe they NEED a Jedi. They're not really about rules and protocol and mandates...but they soon find out that neither is Brea! She's perfect for them, she matches their energy and allows them to make decisions the way they want. They all become very close...except for Crosshair, who still doesn't trust her. He only trusts his brothers, everyone else is an outsider.

I'll probably talk about it more later, but she does something or other that proves her care for them as individuals and one thing leads to another, Crosshair and Brea are something of an item. Not a couple per se, but FAMILIAR if you know what I mean. However, it's because of Crosshair's emotional constipation that it doesn't really go further than that, and it's ALSO because of his emotional constipation that things start to change between them! And when you bring Brea's new Padawan Kepler into the mix, things go very sour very quickly.

To make a long story short, Crosshair burns his bridge with Brea long before he joins the empire and he didn't even know it. By the time he does, she's moved on and is in love with a certain other clone! All of that is more stuff to talk about another time though ^ 0 ^ if you've read all this thank you so much and ilysm! 🫶🫶🫶

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @miutonium @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @sunflawyer @in-true-blue-love @tropicalgothships @little-miss-selfships @hotrodharts @cupiidzbow @frozenhi-chews @limey-self-inserts @candyheartedchy

[tkaulitzlvr]

Help I love your writing so much I get so excited when you post 💗 can you do a “one bed” scenario please where reader and Tom are like ‘enemies’ but not really 🤭

🛐🙏 I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR STORIES THANK YOU!!!

ONE BED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when there is a mixup in the amount of hotel rooms the band were meant to book, you and tom are forced to get a lot closer than you have ever before - much to your annoyance.

content: angst

a/n: thank you so much i’m so glad you enjoy my writing, it really means a lot!! and thank u for the request i hope u like it!

“hi, um we have five rooms booked under the name kaulitz.” bill says, leaning against the receptionist’s desk as she nods slightly, beginning to type something on her computer.

we had been travelling all day, looking forward to getting some rest, the boys performing in two days, their tour coming to an end. i wasn’t part of the band, but i came with them on tour, having known them all my life, it had just become routine that i would join them, no matter where they went. they were my family, and i loved them all like brothers, well, apart from one of them. tom.

he had never warmed up to me, our personalities always clashing for some reason. and, even though we had grown up, maturity supposedly coming with age, we still despised each other just as much as we did all those years ago, the tension never really easing, tolerating him being all i could do - and even that proved difficult sometimes.

“sorry, what was your name again?” the receptionist asks, peering upwards from her computer and looking at bill briefly, taking a quick peek behind him as we all stand tiredly, wanting to go to bed, the delay only irritating us more.

“kaulitz, k-a-u-l-i-t-z.” bill says, spelling his last name out, turning to face us for a second, a puzzled expression on his face as i send one back his way, confused on what is taking this long.

i hear tom tut behind me as he drops his bags down on the ground with a thud, my eyes meeting his as i send him an annoyed look, him pulling a face back and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“okay, we have you booked in, but you’ve only paid for two rooms.” the woman behind the desk says, looking upwards once more.

“oh that’s not a problem.” bill begins, pulling his wallet out and searching for his card. “i must’ve made a mistake, i can just pay for three more.”

“i’m sorry sir, we’re fully booked. that won’t be possible.” she says, standing up from her desk and finding the keys to the two rooms bill had somehow booked.

my eyes widen, gustav and georg doing the same as we share confused glances, wondering how we are going to fit into two rooms, when we had planned to all have our own as we did every time we stayed somewhere. sure, we would usually all hang out in someone’s room together, but we each needed our space when we went to bed, none of us keen on the idea of sharing.

“but, there’s five of us, we can’t fit into two rooms.” bill says, panicking a little as he tries to reason with the receptionist, desperate for a solution.

meanwhile, tom rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘fucking great’ under his breath, thinking that none of us hear. but, i am far too tired to scold him for it, too focused on thinking of a way to fix this.

“i apologise sir, but there’s really nothing i can do.” the lady sits back at the desk as bill begins to walk away, the five of us standing in the middle of the lobby, wondering what the fuck we were going to do.

“bill how the fuck did you manage to book two rooms instead of five?” tom breaks the silence, massaging his temples and glaring at bill.

“maybe if you did something for us all once, instead of leaving it all to me whilst you sit on your ass then this wouldn’t have happened!” bill shoots back, georg, gustav and i rolling our eyes, not wanting to hear another one of the twins’ arguments - especially not right now.

“guys this isn’t the time for your bickering, let’s just see how many beds the rooms have, and we can figure it out from there, okay?” georg says, tom and bill reluctantly nodding their heads as we all squeeze into the small elevator, next to no room between us as we try to fit five people, plus our luggage into it.

we all make it inside, my side pressed against tom’s back. he groans in frustration, trying to move me off of him. “jesus christ you wanna get any closer? might as well climb on my fucking back.” tom scoffs.

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed but this isn’t exactly a spacious elevator. shut up whining and deal with it.” i reply as the doors open, all of us pouring out of it, thankful to have some personal space and fresh air. we walk to our rooms - 401 and 402, praying that there are five beds between the two rooms, and none of us will have to share.

we walk into room 401, the decor minimalistic and clean, seeing a small living room with a decent sized couch that someone could sleep on. the bedroom is a few steps away, bill and tom walking ahead, the rest of us walking in and seeing two single beds.

“thank god.” bill sighs in relief. “three of us can stay in here, the other room should be the same. let’s go check to make sure.”

we all nod, walking to 402 as bill uses the keycard to unlock the door. we walk in, the room completely different to the one next door.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” tom mutters, rolling his eyes as he looks at the room, knowing that there is now a pretty big problem.

it is much smaller, a double bed placed in the middle of the room, glass doors leading out onto the balcony and an en-suite bathroom at one side of the bedroom. somebody would have to share.

“no way am i sleeping here.” gustav says, bill quickly nodding in agreement, georg running into the other room as they both follow, leaving tom and i alone in the smaller room.

“no! absolutely not, no way.” tom quickly says as he realises the situation, storming into the other room and shaking his head, catching the other guys’ attention as i follow behind him. “there is no way i’m sharing a bed with her.”

he turns around to face me, pointing an angry finger in my direction as he spews out his frustration, making it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. i stand silently, rolling my eyes at his childishness, not at all keen on the idea either, but i refrain from making a scene as he just did.

“tom you don’t have a choice, it’s just one night, grow a pair.” bill says, earning a quiet laugh from georg behind him.

“please bill, i can’t share with him. i’ll do literally anything.” i beg, feeling nauseous at the thought of having to sleep in the same bed as tom.

“sorry guys, it’s only for a night. i’m sure you’ll be fine.” he shrugs, flopping into his bed, his luggage sprawled out on the floor, nobody caring about the mess. “goodnight, try not to kill each other.”

i scoff at his comment, exiting their bedroom and waving to gustav, who is laying on the couch. tom follows behind him, gustav’s eyes widening as he realises the situation, mouthing a quick ‘good luck’ before i leave, letting tom close the door behind him. none of us say a word walking to our hotel room, my hand reaching for the keycard as i open the door, leaving it open for him to walk in, though it is tempting to slam it in his face and let him sleep in the hallways.

i lift my luggage onto the bed, opening the suitcase and looking for a pair of pyjamas, pulling out a small white crop top and plaid pants. i scramble for the bag that has all my skincare inside it, about to pull it out before my suitcase is tossed aside, looking upwards and seeing tom glaring down at me.

“can you move? your suitcase is taking up all the room.”

i tut, shaking my head and grabbing my bag, zipping the suitcase back up and putting it in the corner of the room, staying silent as i make my way to the bathroom, tom sprawled out on the bed the last thing i see before i close the door.

my comfy clothes on and makeup off, i open the door, seeing tom laid shirtless on the bed, some basketball shorts covering his lower half, cap off and dreads in a ponytail, laid back as he searches through the channels on the tv, which is turned on at an unnecessarily loud volume.

“jesus christ are you trying to get us a noise warning? turn that shit down.” i say, snatching the remote from his hands and lowering the volume, harshly shoving it back into his lap.

he sniggers slightly, enjoying the way he can frustrate me by doing the smallest of things, my mind sometimes questioning wether he does it on purpose, wanting to get a reaction out of me.

i climb into bed at the opposite side, getting under the covers and switching off the lamp at my side, yawning as i realise how tired i really am, tom seeming to be wide awake as the tv continues to blare around the room, the bright light emitting from it stopping me from falling asleep.

“can you turn it off? i want to go to sleep.” i ask, already frustrated, his presence alone enough to anger me.

to my surprise, he doesn’t fight me on it, no rude remark coming out of his mouth, the room being taken over by darkness as he turns it off, an uncomfortable silence taking over as i lay on my side at the edge of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

his breathing is heavy as he lays flat, his legs stretched out as he clearly doesn’t care about our proximity as much as i do, his leg slightly touching mine. i physically can’t move it any further away, my limbs almost hanging off the edge of the bed as it is. instead of telling him to move, i kick his leg slightly, pushing it away.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he says looking over at me as i turn to face him, his features only just distinguishable in the dark.

“you’re hogging the entire bed, move!” i shoot back, rolling my eyes.

“you’re not using the space, so why shouldn’t i? you’re getting all pissy because our legs touched, i cant fucking help it, we’re sharing a bed.” he says, stating the obvious.

“i can’t take this.” i mutter, grabbing my pillow and a spare blanket from the cupboard, setting it up on the floor next to the bed.

“what are you doing?” tom asks, sitting up and peering over the bed as i lay down on the floor, moving around to try and get comfy, the surface hard and uneven, much unlike the bed above me, which was actually comfortable.

“the fuck does it look like i’m doing? i’m sleeping on the floor since you’re being such an ass.” i respond, shutting my eyes and trying to fall asleep, but i can still feel tom’s gaze burning into me.

“don’t be ridiculous. get into bed.” tom says, moving over and giving me a little more space.

“no.”

“why not?”

“because you’re pissing me off, okay? you’re just so fucking irritating. shut up, just shut up for once in your fucking life tom!”

silence. i expect another clever comeback, or a witty insult from him, but he stays silent, causing me to open my eyes in confusion. i sit up, looking in tom’s direction and seeing him laid down, staring at the ceiling with his jaw clenched. he looks strangely hurt, like my words had actually impacted him. they never had before, the both of us able to hurl the harshest of insults at each other and brush it off, but this time it seemed different.

“what, did i hit a nerve?” i scoff, genuinely in disbelief of the way he has switched up so fast, his usual heartless demeanour far gone as he lies in silence. “you know it’s the truth tom, you’re always out to get me and i’m sick of it. you’re the most annoying-”

“yeah, i think i got it.” he mumbles, shaking his head and turning around onto his side so he is facing away from me.

“the fuck is up with you?” i say, standing up and moving onto the bed, sitting cross-legged as i try to take a glance at his face, this proving impossible.

“you’ve made your point. just stop it, leave me alone.” he mutters, his voice tired, a little upset too.

“jesus, you can’t seriously be hurt by me saying that! you’ve said all sorts of shit to me, why are you getting so pissy?” i ask, laughing a little, struggling to understand where his change in attitude has come from.

he stays quiet, his body still as it still faces away from me. i give up, accepting defeat and realising that i wont get a response out of him, feeling a little guilty for some reason, although he has said way worse to me and felt no remorse.

i grab my pillow from the floor, putting it back onto the bed as i slip under the covers once again, knowing that i would have gotten zero sleep if i had spent the night on the floor. i lay down, my back flat against the mattress, eyes falling shut as lethargy soon takes over. sleep is seconds away from consuming me, my mind almost falling into a slumber, until i feel a warm hand touch mine, stretching outwards so that it is fully covering it, the certainty of its movement way too strong for it to be an accident.

my eyes shoot open, seeing tom already looking in my direction. he doesn’t move his hand, quickly ruling out his touch being an accident. i don’t pull away, i don’t ask what he thinks he is doing, i don’t call him some childish name. instead, all i can do it look into his eyes, my body still and breathing heavy.

he stays silent too, his body slowly moving closer to mine, my stomach dropping as nerves take over, too intrigued to stop him. he hesitates, before bringing his hand upwards, his other still holding mine, and moving the loose strands of hair out of my face.

“you know i never hated you, right?” he whispers, positioning his hand next to my face once he has moved the hairs covering my features.

“what?” is all i can say, having no idea what the fuck is happening right now, wondering wether this is all some crazy dream.

“why do we act so cold towards each other?” he asks, not moving away from me, his head resting on the pillows, just a few inches away from mine.

“it’s always been a pretty mutual thing tom.” i say, unsure of what else to respond with, unable to remember a time that tom and i hadn’t constantly been at each other’s throats.

“you’re the most oblivious person i’ve ever met, you know that?” he says, breathing out heavily. for a second, i swear i see a smile on his face, but i blame it on the darkness, convincing myself that it is making me hallucinate.

“what do you mean?” i ask, genuinely confused.

he pauses for a second, almost like he is contemplating something, his mind and heart arguing with each other as they fight against acting rashly. i await his response, about to speak again, but i am stripped of the choice, feeling his warm lips quickly collide with mine.

i am stunned, unable to kiss back as i slowly process that his lips are on mine. but, i don’t pull away either, strangely liking it, feeling as if a part of me that has always been missing is finally fulfilled. after a few seconds, i feel tom try to pull away.

“i’m sorry, shit i-”

i cut off his rambling, swiftly reconnecting our lips once more, wrapping my hands around his neck and pulling him closer to me, his taking my waist and moving me so that i am now on top of him, not breaking the kiss. his lips mould perfectly with mine, fitting together as if they were always meant to be like this, moving against each other in sync.

everything is a blur, from him kissing down my body, our clothes being thrown carelessly on the floor, bodies moving against each other, both of us crying out in pleasure, to our release, the entire moment happening so fast that it seems like a dream, something i had made up as a result of my tired state.

“what the fuck? guys, come look at this.”

“did they not hate each other ten minutes ago?”

“oh my god! look at tom, i’ve never seen him hold a girl so close before.”

“jesus christ, are they naked? is that her bra?”

“thank god the sheets are on them, i don’t even wanna know what’s underneath.”

i begin to stir, the sound of muffled voices slowly waking me up, my eyes fluttering open. i am greeted by three boys at the foot of my bed, their eyes widened in shock, small giggles escaping their mouths. i look downwards, seeing that my clothes are gone, my body covered by the sheets. i turn to my side, tom fast asleep, his arms draped around my waist, body also bare with his torso on show, lower half thankfully covered, the memories of last night flooding back.

“did you have fun?” bill smirks, georg and gustav bursting into fits of laughter, the sudden noise waking tom up as he opens his eyes, seeing the situation in front of him, his hands scrambling for the sheets to fully cover us both.

“guys what the fuck? get out of here! leave!” he shouts, frantically waving his arms about, reaching for a pillow and throwing it at them as they rush out, making exaggerated kissing sounds until the door closes, both tom and i sighing in relief.

“assholes.” tom mutters under his breath, stretching before bringing my body closer to his, our legs tangled together.

“do you regret it?” he asks, his voice more serious now.

“what? of course not. do you?” i say, worried that he thinks it was a mistake, acting out on pure lust, using me for a quick fuck.

he laughs, watching the way my face drops.

“what’s so funny?” i ask, confused on how he can find my concern so hilarious.

“nothing, nothing. no- i don’t regret it either, why would i?” he says, gently stroking the bare skin of my waist, planting a short kiss on my forehead.

“and here i was thinking you hated me this whole time.” i laugh.

“how about i show you how i really feel again, hm?” he smirks, flipping us over so he is on top of me, placing open mouthed kisses to my jaw and neck as i squeal, my hands moving to his hair as he smiles against my skin.

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