#my eardrums will survive. maybe.

[aropride]

are those loop earbuds actually any good?

#text #genq im thinking of getting them for sleep #but alsoi think sleeping with earbuds in is bad for u #eehhhh its fine #or like if u know of any good headphones for sleeping. but im a side sleeper and i move around a lot. so idk. but anything would be good #anything to not hear one of my roommates on the phone w his partner on the phone 24/7 i'm about to turn into the fucking joker #my eardrums will survive. maybe.

[s-4pphics]

click! 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 7.4k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black :3, crack, light smut [masturbation], sexual tension… it’s starting, light angst, weed, brief mention of suicide, pretty cute tbh

one. two. four.

A/N: hi stinks :3 i’m obsessed with them….. taking my time with these two hope yall like it LOL bye

Butterflies are fluttering, birds are chirping, and the crops are watered when you wake. You slept through the entire night, and the beast inside you is satisfied. 

But the gorgeous scenery in your mind dies in an instant when you recall what the fuck you did last night. Maybe you are a low-down, dirty whore, just like your roomie said. She has the audacity to terrorize your subconscious enough to actually feature in one of your meat-beat sessions. Not only that, but you busted in two minutes to the thought of her demanding you to fix a window that isn’t even broken. 

You… are a hoe. How awkward. You just wanted to fight her days ago, and now your pussy’s got a crush. Not you, your pussy. You accepted that you and your cunt are two separate entities a long time ago. 

You lay in your bed, eyes melting holes into the ceiling; What the fuck is going on?

Ellie… sex… her asking for head… you asking for head from her… The math isn’t mathing. Ellie’s gay as a bitch, you know that for a fact, but why her? The math has never mathed, actually. You’re going to fail statistics, speaking of… Is statistics considered math? 

It’s still freezing in your apartment. Is Ellie still not back yet? Your shared space is never this silent or cold; A rat could be crawling around in search of cheese and you would hear it like a hounddog. 

You throw your blankets off and instantly regret it; You’re shocked snow isn’t falling from inside your fucking apartment. It has to be negative thirty in this bitch. If Ellie’s asleep, you don’t know how she survived the night. 

Your knees crack as you quietly pull your door open, light creaks from the hardwood sounding your walk to Ellie’s bedroom. You can’t imagine how crazy you look, ear pressed against her door, listening for any movement to prove that she’s alive and not a fucking block of ice. 

Either you’re hallucinating, or she’s mumbling in her sleep. Her voice is hushed and croaky, supposedly asking if Spider-man stole her fucking lunch money to pay the Pope back for stealing… something; You can’t pick up what she said from out here. Your hand flies over your mouth to hide a laugh. She must be exhausted; When did she get back last night? 

You let her sleep-talk in peace and head to the kitchen to brew your coffee. You really beat off to that bonehead. Go figure. 

For the first time since Ellie moved in, you’re gone before her. 

You’re strolling the icy streets, strutting to your heart’s content, Tina Snow vibrating your eardrums. Last night’s nut really did something incredible to your spirit; You’ve never felt lighter. One more unsuspecting gust of wind and you’re taking flight, for sure. Your brain gives subconscious Ellie knuckles. 

You burst through the coffee shop like you own it, silently celebrating when you realize there’s no line. You order and receive your dark drink in record time, taking a seat by the large window at the back of the shop. What gorgeous scenery! 

Your cup is almost empty when your phone vibrates on the table. It’s Maymay! You answer with the brightest smile. “My babyyy— “

“Bitch, cut the shit! Fuck you! Why haven’t you called?” She yells through the line. 

“Well, uh…” You almost committed arson in your building! “Just… just school stuff! You wouldn’t know about that, Ms. Celebrity!” 

Your best friend giggles, “Shut up! I’m a D-lister at most!” You shake your head in denial; That internship program doesn’t understand the blessing that Amaya holds. Her ear is godsend and she comprehends sound like no other. 

“How’s the roomie thing going? I haven’t heard much!” 

Oh, fuck. “… Fine.” 

She’s silent for a second, “The fuck does that mean?” 

Your fingernail snaps between your teeth. “I mean it’s fine, just like I said.” 

Amaya hums, clearly suspicious, “… Whatever you say, then.” 

“Yup.” 

She snorts. “Anyway… what’re you doing for Chri— “

“Ellie made me bust with her telepathy.” This is not the conversation you should be having in a coffee shop, but if people heard you, fuck it. 

“… Bitch… What?” 

“I didn’t wanna tell you, okay? I didn't! Incel made her way into my fucking brain and I busted! Sue me!” 

Silence passes, and then there’s laughter from the other line. “Are you high right now?” 

“No, it’s fucking nine in the morning— “

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a lil’ wake-and-bake— “

“I just told you I mentally fucked my roomie and that’s what you say?” 

She sighs, “I mean… I saw the picture you sent me. She's not ugly. Doesn’t seem like your type, though.” 

“She’s not my type! I thought about her for two seconds on accident and I came! Abby couldn’t even get me there and she—” 

“Woah, woah, pause… Abby couldn’t get you where?” 

“Not a location, bitch. I couldn’t bust!” A sharp gasp from her. Your brows furrow, “What?” 

“Oh, bitch…”

“What, Maya?” 

You hear the smile in her tone, “You gotta crush?” 

You gag, “Fuck no! Have you lost your mind! My…” You pause and check to see if anyone’s near. Nobody. You whisper-shout into the speaker, “My pussy’s crushing!” 

Amaya sucks her teeth in annoyance, “Girl…”

“It’s true! You know she gotta mind of her own! I can’t do anything about that!” 

Your bestie’s snickering to herself, “Whatever you say, mama. But for someone that thinks with her clit… you might wanna have a conversation with her. You know her better than anybody.” 

You’re stunned to say the least. You love Amaya to death, but she’s batshit crazy to suggest that you’re crushing on someone like Ellie. She called you a worthless tramp in broad daylight, for fucks sake. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but it still stung a little. 

You sip your coffee, “I love you… I gotta go.” 

“Mhm…” You hate how sure she sounds. “Love you, too.” 

You nervously twiddle your fingers until your first class, the day dragging even more than usual. Mainly due to the fact that you’re wondering if Amaya was right. Your lectures feel like a blur; All you can think about is Ellie. The spot-covered hermit. Squash-loving loser with a decent nose… and decent hands… and decently toned arms. 

Your pussy squeezes in the middle of class when you briefly envision them wrapped around you, and it sends a shockwave to your brain. 

Oh, shit. 

Raja was sweet enough to cover your shift for you; You can’t focus on credit card sales today. 

The second you enter your freezing apartment, you hear quiet sobs. Ellie sits at the small table as she scrolls through her phone, forms scattered all over the glass. She’s sniffling and wiping her face with her hoodie sleeve, and your brows crease. 

You shut the door behind you before making your way over to her. Not too close, though. 

“Uhh… you good?” 

“Yeah.” Her voice breaks, and something shifts in you. Somewhere in your chest. Why’re her cheeks so red?

“… You sure?” You cringe. 

“I said yeah.” 

She clearly doesn’t want to chat. Whatever’s going on, she can handle on her own. She doesn’t need coddling, especially from you. Why’re you still standing here?

“I, uh… I found a Snicker’s.” You slip. 

Ellie finally faces you, clearly confused. Why can’t you just shut the hell up for once? Another shift from your chest at her teary eyes. 

“What?” 

“I mean, uh, I bought a Snicker’s. Like, candy.” You pull said bar from your puffer pocket. You did buy it for Abby for when you see her to study, but it looks like your roomie needs it more. 

“… Okay?” 

You pull out and hand the wrapped chocolate out to her, “You’re not you when you’re hungry.” 

Her eyes switch between your face and the candy bar; She doesn’t look impressed. Maybe she’s allergic to nuts! You knew you should’ve got the fucking Sour Straws—

“Thanks.” 

You barely register her taking the bar, her cold fingers brushing against yours. Another zap in your brain. She rips it open and eats it in silence. An awkward chuckle from you, “Is it yummy?” You expect her to tell you to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She just nods and chews. 

Your nosiness gets the best of you, discreetly inspecting the forms on the table. A bunch of random names are crossed out in her notebook, a couple of signed forms crumpled up and raggedy. You don’t know what any of this means. 

“You’re not slick.” Ellie talks with her mouth full.

“Hm?” 

“You’re really gonna read my shit like that?” 

You take a seat next to her, “… I didn’t.” 

“Okay,” She mumbles. “Remember…” She scratches at her ear, “Remember that booking that got canceled because of the storm?” You nod. She swallows the last bits of her candy. “I was supposed to take pictures of this couple before their wedding, but…” 

“They, uh… They don’t wanna reschedule. Said it’s too hectic because of the holidays and there’s not enough time.” 

You hum, “Okay… So, what does that mean?” 

“I can’t submit my portfolio without those pictures. And it fucked my money up.” 

“Damn… how much were they paying?” 

She scoffs, “A lot. I don’t even wanna think about how much I lost trying to get the setup right.” 

You ponder for a second, “I mean, I’m sure there’s other people who want nice pics. You’ve been hustling this whole time— “

She interrupts, “I don’t wanna hustle anymore. I’m… I’m tired. It’s fucking exhausting doing promotions by yourself.” 

You hear the stress in her voice, and you feel for her. Being a full-time creative can be pretty shitty at times. Most times. The amount of attempts you’ve had in commissioning in your lifetime is astronomical; Some pick-ups, lots of disappointment. 

“What was the shoot about? Like… the scene, I guess.” 

Ellie nibbles at her lip, “Romance.” 

“Boooring,” You joke. Ellie doesn’t laugh, so you cough awkwardly. “You gotta come up with a new plan, I guess. It’s all about the grind mentality.” 

“You sound like a misogynist with a podcast.” 

You chuckle and she continues, “There’s no new plan. The portfolio I’m submitting is based on emotion. It’s not… complete if love isn’t somewhere in there. That’s how I see it.” 

“Speaking of see, can I?” You arch your brow, “Your portfolio, I mean.” 

“No.” She says plainly. 

“Wha— why not? You saw my paintings!” 

“They’re on the wall… in the living room. There’s no other choice but to look at them.” 

“Bro, what the fuck. You’re not the only visualist in this house! I might have some pointers you could use!” 

“I don’t need pointers from you.” Aggravation clouds her pupils. You try not to take offense to that, but it doesn’t work. 

“Why the fuck not?” You glare. 

Her tone gets louder, “Because you wouldn’t understand it! Why do you wanna help so badly, anyway!”

“I’m—“ But you don’t know what to say. Why do you want to help? Ellie squints, awaiting your answer, but nothing comes out. You’re uncomfortable; It’s suddenly not that cold in here. 

“Whatever. Forget I asked!” You rise and march to your room. Another slammed door, another pending noise complaint. 

Ellie hasn’t talked to you in days, and you’re not sure why it’s bothering you. You’ve been sending her looks throughout the entire stats lecture, but she hasn’t acknowledged you once. She’s just scribbling and tapping her ballpoint on her notebook. Her notetaking seems very intense from where you sit, her eyes scanning the board. 

Does Ellie like math? Or logistics? Or whatever statistics is considered? Curiosity pokes at you; You don’t know much about your roommate. You’ve been living together for nearly a month, and you haven’t had one valuable conversation yet. What about photography interests Ellie so much? Why does she enjoy disgusting vegetables? When did she get her tattoo? Is she actually gay or are you a dickhead for assuming? 

Your venturing thoughts makes class fly by; Another successful day of not taking useful notes! 

Ellie’s packing her run-down backpack and you watch. She’s meticulously placing her books on top of each, at least from what you can see from the big hole on the side. Her headphones are thrown on, and in one swift motion, her bag is on her shoulder and she’s heading towards the door, holding it open for everyone leaving. 

You swiftly pack and walk towards the exit. Ellie’s too distracted by her phone to notice you turn the corner to watch her. All the students vacant the room, and she lets the door shut. You follow from a distance as she moves towards the staircase, down the steps, out into the quad and onto the open field. She pauses, so you do too. 

You follow her line of vision, right at the sky. It’s pretty today: the sun’s peeking out, just barely, from underneath the dark gray clouds, rays of light highlighting various sections of the quad. 

Ellie unzips and digs in her bag, retrieving the olive-green polaroid before setting her bag down on the frosted grass. She maneuvers around the grass, trying to avoid obstruction from the trees, adjusting her stance, picking the best angle before holding her camera up. One quick flash, and she’s holding a photo of the sky. 

She shakes the picture a bit before squatting to search through her bag, pulling out a large binder and placing the photo in a laminated encasing. You can’t see any of the pictures in detail, but there must be a lot in there. That binder is thick as fuck. 

And just like that, she’s off into the cold. 

You wonder what else is in that binder. 

You’re starving. The second you get that direct deposit, you’re whipping up something fierce. Shrimp and eggplant have been calling your name for weeks; You’re ravenous for it. 

You run up to the apartment to snag a granola bar, Ellie already in the kitchen, propped against the counter eating Kraft mac and cheese. 

You shut the door behind you, “Wonderful weather we’re having, isn’t it?” 

Ellie stops chewing, eyes large and soft cheeks filled with creamy noodles. “Hm?” 

You walk to the cupboards, mouthwatering for Nature Valley, “It’s just beautiful outside! The trees, the sky! Almost pretty enough to paint, ain’t it!” 

More chewing. She just shrugs, but you’re not having it, “I wish I gotta picture!” 

“… Go take one.” 

“Oh, my fucking god,” you mutter to yourself, “Can I see the picture you took earlier?” 

“… How’d you know— “

“The details aren’t important! I was thinkiiing,” you rip open the wrapping, “if I can’t see your portfolio, I can see that giant photo book you have!” 

She glances around awkwardly, “Were you watching me earlier?” 

“… Well, yes— “

“What the fu— why?” 

“I like seeing people do shit they enjoy.” You shrug and bite your bar. Ellie isn’t looking at you, but her cheeks tint, and it makes you grin. Interesting. 

You chew and swallow, “Especially talented people.” You inch closer, just barely. “You should show me some pictures sometime… I’ll show you some of my secret creations, too. A little exchange, if you will.” 

Her fingers clench around her plastic spoon, and her breathing changes, cheeks even brighter. Her hands are very nice… They look so soft. 

“Think about it,” you say, quieter, just between the two of you, “Call it… roommate bonding.” You crunch and adjust your bag before walking towards the door. “I think it’s overdue!” You throw over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you. 

You’re not sure if Ellie likes or hates compliments. 

Closing was so hectic; you don’t make it home until one in the morning. Training rookies is probably the worst part about working in hardware; They never know where shit goes. 

You don’t feel tired, though. The drive back home is usually when your exhaustion takes over, but this ride was smooth. Sleep is going to be difficult to come by tonight. 

You unlock your front door and… push. And push. And push again. What the fuck. Something’s blocking the door. You fight with the wood until the crack is wide enough to slip through. The smell in the air is very telling as to why there’s a pile of hoodies blocking the slim opening at the bottom of the door. 

Your mouth gapes at the sight of Ellie on the couch with no pants on, blunt in her hand… blowing O’s. Her eyes are glistening and lazy when she opens them. You quickly shut the door and kick the hoodies in their original position before the scent escapes. 

“Hey,” she mutters. Goosebumps rise on your arms at her voice. 

“… Why the fuck are you chiefing in this no smoke building.” 

She stares like you’re stupid. “De-stressing.”

“Deez-fucking nuts! Ellie, we’re not gonna have a place to sleep if we get caught. Bitch ass Carol doesn’t play that shit.” You hate your landlord with every fiber of your being. The second anyone accidentally breaks a rule, she’s on their ass like grass. You can’t imagine how she’s going to react if she sees Ellie being disobedient on purpose. You’ll both be living out of your car. Fucking hag. 

Your roommate sighs and crosses her legs, boxer shorts riding up her taut thighs. Alright, okay. She pats the empty cushion next to her. 

“I'm bored.” 

“Okay, what about it.” 

She taps the cushion again. Your heartbeat spikes for some reason. “Roommate bonding.” 

You gawk. Ellie’s never been this relaxed in your presence. Her posture is incredibly comfortable, leaning back against the propped pillows, manspreading. Why is it attractive?

So, you drop your bag and unzip your puffer before plopping down next to her. She says nothing, just extends the lit herb to you. You look between her and the big B. “That’s a fat doinker.” 

“… Right.” Ellie puffs once more before attempting to share. 

You push her cold hand back softly, “I don’t smoke.” 

“Okay.” One last long pull from her, and she’s putting out the grass on the ashtray. “Do you wanna play checkers?” She exhales around smoke clouds, cold air blowing in from the barely cracked window. 

“… What.” 

“I said do you wanna play checke— “ 

“Are you a lesbian?” 

Your eyes widen at your own question. Interrogation? Fuck. Ellie’s looking around the warm space blankly as if she’s trying to register what the fuck you just said. You’re a fucking asshole. 

“E-Ellie, I’m sorry, I dunno why I asked— “

“Can you not tell.” 

“Well, yeah.” You stutter, “… But I thought it was like… fucked up to assume based on uh, appearances, or whatever. I don’t have good gay-dar, so.” 

“I’ve been called a carpet muncher since I was eight.” 

“… Fuck, really?” She nods, face flat. Your fist extends, silently asking for knuckles, “Me too! That’s what’s up.” 

“I almost killed myself.”

Your fist drops with your expression. “Oh… uh, damn… Sorry… I’m glad you didn’t, though, real shit.” 

“What does love feel like?” 

This conversation is giving you whiplash. “Are you one of those fake-deep potheads? Like, you believe in flat earth and all that other bullshit?” 

Ellie blinks dumbly, “Uhh… I don’t think so…” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Ellie points at the wall, at one of your paintings. Two women laying on a bed of grass, completely at peace, surrounded by colorful flowers and butterflies. A small smile spreads across your face, recalling how excited you were to show your first girlfriend what you made for her birthday. 

“Love feels like you're getting shot… but not in a bad way.” You ramble. “It’s like… like, fuck I’m really gonna die without this person next to me type shit.” You think back to when you made the painting on the wall, the memories of your younger self so deeply infatuated with another person for the first time. It felt eternal back then, souls interconnected. 

But then your eyes travel to the next painting, right below the latter. Complete void, no color, no life, just darkness, and your expression falls. The faceless girl trapped in the center of madness is calm, though, accepting her doom with grace. 

“That makes it worse, though…” You think of Dina and how you fought. How nasty it got. How disgusted she seemed with your presence. You almost want to cry as you relive it. “When they leave… something inside you really does die. That space never really gets filled again. You’re just kinda… stuck with a hole until you croak over.” 

“What if they don’t leave?” 

They all leave. “… I’m not sure yet.” 

Ellie hums and it goes quiet for a moment. You wonder what she’s thinking about. 

“Are you a lesbian?” Your roommate throws back at you. You laugh, “Are you asking if I eat coochie?” 

Ellie nods with a giggle. You stiffen; This is the first time you’ve heard her laugh. The hairs on your arms stand upright at the sound. 

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Ellie laughs harder, head resting against the back of the couch. You watch the apple of her cheeks heighten. But then the wind blows harder than normal and they drop. She's blank again. “The heater…” 

“What about it?” 

“It’s broken…” 

Fuck. “Did you put in a maintenance request?” Her head shakes. 

“Uh… why not?” 

“Because I heard you masturbating and forgot.” 

Your heart, stomach, pride is at your feet, “… What did you just say.” 

Ellie finally looks at you, eyes doe-like, guilt swimming in them. “I’m… I’m sorry! I was sleeping and I woke up to pee but I couldn’t because you were— “

“Ellie— “

“It kept… buzzing, and I couldn’t move! I kept asking

myself how is her stamina this fucking good! It didn’t turn off until like… an hour later! I almost pissed in my bed— “

Your body heats at her confession; She thought about your stamina? You place a hand on her shoulder to ease her, and she stops. “It’s okay. I just… Yeah, this is awkward… We gotta submit that request before that next blizzard or we’re fucked.” 

Ellie mutters in agreement, but she’s not listening. She’s eyeing your fingers, the ones resting on her shirt. If you move your thumb an inch, you’ll touch her collarbone. 

“We, um… We can send it in the morning…” She whispers okay, and your fingers curl around the fabric. A sharp inhale from her, and you sigh. Her warm breath is hitting your wrist and you’re trying not to squirm. You watch her chest rise and fall at a steady pace, eyes flicking between yours and your hand. 

You watch her and she watches you, hand inching up until you’re tracing the warm skin under her tee. Your nail scratches her collarbone, just barely, and the muscles in her thigh jerk. Nope. Not happening. You pull away and stand. 

“This was… you’re funny.” You stare at your feet; You never took your shoes off. “Uh… bye.” 

“Bye.” Her voice is flat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you fucked up. 

Your shoes go flying and you rush to your room. You’re not sure if you slammed the door or not; The pounding in your ears is too loud. 

Ellie fucked up. She knows she did. 

I heard you masturbating and forgot? You left over an hour ago, and she’s still replaying that moment in her mind. What the fuck was she thinking? She wants to peel her skin off and her stomach is in knots. The ghost of your hand is still on her. She was freezing before you came home, and now she’s overheating. 

Ellie thinks she’s done a good job of acting normally around you after that night. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about it. All the time. 

She hates how, every night since it happened, she listens for you. When you come home in the wee hours of the night, the devil convinces her that you’re aching and desperate, dripping and ready to get yourself to the peak you crave. You’ve been working so hard; You deserve to wind down. 

It’s sick, she knows. She masks it well, but every time you're home, she’s hot. Roommate bonding, you’d said. Why did you say it like that, though? You sounded so alluring, like a siren preparing for a kill. 

Maybe she’s reading into it too much. You're a flirt and you’re good at it… 

It’s either hot or cold with you. Compliments, or cursing. Admiration or judgment. There’s no middle ground, and it’s driving her crazy. 

Why did you have to touch her? You could’ve kept your distance like you’ve been doing, like you did in the kitchen. You gave her a chance to run at arm's length. 

Ellie’s thoughts are racing; She needs to smoke again, but she’s too distracted to spark. That ache between her thighs is overpowering. 

Her eyes travel over the painting that captured her attention a few weeks ago. A small self portrait of you. She commends your attention to detail, but still, you’re so gorgeous in person; There’s no comparison. 

Two deep breaths, and her hand is shoved in her boxers, fingers slippery in seconds. She keeps her eyes glued to the painting as she rubs her clit in quick circles, the bud increasing her sensitivity. 

It’s like the painting moves with every squeeze of her walls: she can almost see your animated eyes rolling into your skull, your pink tongue out, drool dripping down your chin. And your voice… It’s tantalizing when you want something. She can almost hear you now: it’s so good, right there, I love when you touch me like that. 

Fuck, she wants your hands on her. Everywhere. Anywhere you want. She’s breathing so loud; She hopes you dozed off by now, even in your noticeably restless state. 

But what if you’re not? What if you forgot something in the living room, or need a drink of water before bed, and you walk in and see the mess you make her? Her hand moves faster at the thought of you angry, disappointed that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She’ll never say, but something wicked happens in her underwear when you're fuming. She likes how expressive your eyes are. 

Her free hand flies over her mouth as her stomach tightens, the beats in her clit and heart synced. She's so close. A few seconds, and she groans into her hand, the walls melting around her when it finally crashes. Tears jerk in her eyes as she rubs herself through it, riding it out for as long as she can. 

The hand on her mouth slides under her shirt, cold fingers prodding her nipple as her orgasm descends. She gasps into the cold air, trying to catch her breath. She palms her clit and her walls twitch. She tiredly plops onto the couch, hand still in her underwear, eyes glued to your portrait, scaling the wall until she revisits the depiction of you and your first girlfriend. 

The idea Ellie’s been sitting on for the last few days crashes down on her again. You’re soft, despite what others may say. You seem like a lover. 

It’s Friday. Rent is due. Fuck. 

You just got paid, and now more than half of your earnings is in your landlord's pocket. You haven’t even been grocery shopping yet. 

Ellie has, apparently. It smells so good in the kitchen. You take back whatever you said about her and her cheffing skills. That soup was delicious; You secretly hope she cooks more. She can get down… a little bit. 

You wipe the tired from your eyes and make way to the kitchen, and your jaw drops, stunned in your spot by the fridge. Empty grocery bags are stacked on the counter, and Ellie’s frying shrimp and eggplant. 

“Hi… you didn’t eat last night. I heard you talking about egg— “

Your whimper, followed by several guttural sobs interrupt her greeting, hand flying over your mouth. Ellie simply stands by the counter with wide eyes, fork in hand. 

Ellie thinks you’ve stopped crying, “Uh… I just wante— “

More loud sobs from you. Snot dribbles down from your nose and Ellie cringes, tearing a piece of paper towel and handing it to you. You take it graciously and blow your nose. 

“This is,” sob “the best thing a-anyone,” sniffle… sob “has ever done f-for me.”

Ellie just nods and flips the eggplant. You can’t control yourself, arms wrapping around her waist, sobbing into her back. 

“I, um… Consider it a peace offering, I guess.” 

“I take back,” heave “I take back whatever dumb shit I said about you before you moved in,” heave “You’re so… fuck you, Ellie!” You hug her tighter. 

“Queers gotta stick together.” She mumbles. 

“Like wet pussy lips!” You wail, fat tears seeping into her t-shirt. She snickers to herself, “Get a plate.” 

You sniffle all the way to the cupboards and set the tiny table. 

Chef Butch. That’s Ellie’s new name around these parts. 

For someone who supposedly “hates eggplant”, she seasoned and fried the fuck out of it. Get this bitch on the Food Network!

You’re full and energized before leaving the house for once. You don’t even need your morning coffee. 

“Hey, uh… can I ask you something?” Ellie calls from the table.

You pause dish scrubbing to look at her, “Mhm.” 

“It’s kinda… a big deal.” She mutters, eyes flickering nervously. 

“… Should I sit down, or?”

“It’s not bad. It’s just… I don’t know.” 

You rinse your hands and set the last plate on the rack to dry. You grab a clean towelette and sit across from her. Ellie can’t meet your eyes and her cheeks are fiery. You smirk. 

“Need help with something?” 

Her head bobs, eyes glued to the table. 

“Then ask me.” You lean closer. Ellie whispers your name. A deep sigh from her, lips parting around her question. 

“Do you wanna model for my portfolio— “

“Of course I’ll help you send nudes— “

Confusion paints her face, “What.”

“…What.” 

“What did you just say.” 

“Nothing.” You shrug, face burning. 

“You can say no. It’s not that serious.” That guarded twinge in Ellie’s voice has returned. You don’t like it. 

“You think I’m pretty?” You tease with a pout. 

“What.” 

“You think I’m sooo hot and sexy that you’re gonna make me the star of your— “

Ellie blushes, “You’re not the… star of anyth— “

Your hands wave excitedly, “I’m so honored! I’d love to! When do we start!” 

Ellie sighs, massaging her temples, “Do you have work on Sunday?” 

“Not anymore!” You do a little dance in your seat, “What am I gonna be doing in the pics, o ye camera master?” Her ears are so red. Why is she so fucking nervous? You’ve already accepted! 

“Just look like you’re in love.” 

“… Oh.” 

Ellie grimaces at your tone, “Listen, I only have two weeks to finish this submission. I haven’t had any luck finding people to help me out!” 

You pause, “Is this why you buttered me up with a buss down plate?” 

“… Would you hate me if I said yes?” 

“Fuck, Ellie— “

“I’m desperate!” She exclaims, “But I also don’t wanna just ask anybody! I need the photos to be believable! And you kinda… you kinda get it!” Ellie points to the painting of you and your first love. 

The silence is thick as you explore her face. Her forestry-filled eyes are nervous, but there’s a glimmer of hope in her pupils. You like it; Her orbs look brighter. Greener somehow.

“I wanna see it, then.” 

“See what?” 

“Your big ass binder… and your portfolio!” 

Her eyes roll. “Pick one.” 

“Wooow, you’re really gonna ruin another opportunity for roommate bonding? That’s wild. Alright.” 

“Pick one.” She’s stern with her demand… You like that, too. 

You smirk. “Show me your portfolio.” 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You see it when it’s finished. After the pictures are done. Take it or leave it.” 

“Okay, damn,” You give up, “So… what do I gotta do for prep?” 

“Not much right now. I have to set up my equipment and all that…” She glances around the living room, “we’ll talk about the rest later.” 

“‘Kay.” You twiddle your fingers together before the biggest light bulb shines over your head. 

“I also get 40% of the earnings— “

“Fuck no.” She says with a small grin. You pout. 

You knew something was wrong when Abby randomly invited you over to study… on a Saturday night. You don’t know how she’s a STEM major; You haven’t seen her with a book since you’ve met her! 

The second she opened her door, something was off. It’s been days since you’ve seen her and she barely reacted to the grilled cheese you brought. Her answers have been curt and she’s not laughing at any of your jokes. Your Cheetos are doing a great job at soothing your anxiety. You want to comfort your friend with whatever’s bothering her, but you’re not sure how. 

So, you talk. And talk. And talk about Ellie.

“I’m not gonna lie,” You crunch, comfortable on Abby’s beanbag. “I’m kinda excited! I’ve never done a photoshoot before.” 

Abby shrugs from her work desk, voice monotone, “I mean, just be mindful. It’s obviously not a game for her so you needa take it seriously.” 

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?” 

“Your roommate slash crush— “

Your head shakes, “I don’t have a crush— “

“Slash crush,” Your friend emphasizes, “asked you to be a part of probably one of the biggest creations of her life. If that photo book or whatever is as important as you say, it’s not just a “photoshoot” for her.” 

… Nah, you’re still confused. 

Abby scoffs, “A photoshoot about romance and you’re her only model, making you breakfast, and whatever else she’s done! How much does she have to spell it out for you?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re yelling!”

“I’m not fucking yelling! I’m watching out for you before you do something you regret!” 

You sit up straighter, “And what does that mean!”

“What have you been saying this entire time? I don’t wanna live with someone I fucked!” She mocks, “It seems like y’all are pretty close to that.” 

You stare pensively, “We haven’t fucked and we’re not going to! You’re doing the fucking most!” 

“Yeah, whatever.” She continues to scribble. 

“Abby… what’s wrong?” You clumsily stand from the bean bag. “I’m so con— “

“You wanna know what’s wrong?” She snaps, pen slamming on the desk. “Every time we see each other, you talk about her! I’m sick of hearing about… whatever the fuck you have going on at home, quite frankly! We can’t even joke around because you’re so pressed about someone you don’t even like!” 

You’re going to cry; You can feel it. Abby’s never been this upset with you, “Why did you wait so long to tell me this? I would’ve stopped coming to you a long time ago!” 

“Because I cared and didn’t want you to feel by yourself while Maya’s away! That’s why! But now, it’s like…” 

A tired sigh from her and she gives up, hand waving dismissively, “Talking about this shit is pointless. I’m going to bed. Shut the door behind you.” Abby rises and brushes past you, switching her lamp off and climbing into her warm bed. You allow your tears to fall as you gather your belongings, gently shutting her door behind you and attacking your face with your sleeve. You hate crying in public. 

The elevator ride feels much longer than it should’ve been as you weep. The doors shutter open, and you can see the weather is not on your side. It’s pelting bullets outside; You knew you shouldn’t have walked. 

“You got a ride?” 

You look over at the security guard perched behind the front desk. Fuck all feds, but Stanley’s cool. You shake your head. 

“You can’t walk home in that. Driving is also dangerous but,” He shrugs, and you sigh. You pull your phone out of your pocket. 

“Hey, Siri… Call Chef Butch…” 

“CALLING CHEF BUTCH.” 

Stanley’s warm laughter eases your shoulders. 

DING!

You unlock your phone and smile at Ellie’s text, rising from your chair. 

“Alright, Stan. Pray I don’t turn into Frosty out there,” You throw over your shoulder. 

He laughs, opening the heavy door for you, “I will! Get home safely!” You throw your hood over your beanie, easing past him and nearly being blown away by the fucking wind. How did Ellie drive in this shit!

You somehow manage to follow the view of your car, pounding on the passenger window to get Ellie to unlock it. You miss your step on the curb and fall face first into the seat. You hear Ellie’s laughter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yup! Fucking peachy, thanks!” You stumble in and slam the door with the wind, out of breath, body melting from the heat. “You couldn’t have parked a little closer?” 

“… No.” 

You stare at her through the snow in your lashes, “Ellie, take us home, please. I’m annoyed and going through a fucking breakdown, like I can’t be outside right now. I’m gonna pass out!”

“… You wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” You spit. 

“Alright.” She puts the car in drive, but her foot is still pressed on the brake. 

“I just can’t believe this shit right now!” You ramble anyway. “You think you know a person, like, fuck! This is stupid!” You punch the glove compartment. 

“… What happ— “

“Like, fuck! Fuuuck! Like what the fuck!” 

You’re screaming your head off and Ellie’s just watching, face flat as ever. It makes you scream louder. But your wails pause when your eyes flicker downward. Veiny hands clenched around the steering wheel. Your screams suddenly sound like whimpers. When’s the last time you had sex?

Is it sad that the thought of Ellie choking you out is easing your meltdown? This is the worst day ever! 

“I’m gonna rip my fucking face off— “

“Why're you staring at my hands like that?”

“What the fuck, I’m not staring. Be quiet.” 

Your roommate grins like a fox, “Okay.” 

The car’s moving and so are your eyes, all over Ellie, wherever they can reach. You’re pissed and horny and you need a shot. 

“You ever get the urge to strangle the fuck outta someone?”

“Mhm.” 

You ponder, “How does it feel to smoke weed?” 

She shrugs, “It feels good.”

“How good? Scale of one to ten.” 

“… Thirteen.”

“Better than sex?” You ask quietly. Your brain is elsewhere, locked on the bulging blue veins in her hand, following the lines through her hoodie. 

She ponders, “… Yes.” 

“You’re biased, though. I can’t trust you.” 

“Stop staring at my hands like that.” Her low voice is like a kick in your back, spine slightly arching in your chair. You’re glad she’s looking at the road; She’s making you go into heat and she doesn’t need to see it. Maybe Abby was right about you being a fucking hypocrite. 

“Or what?” Your tone is icy, and she licks her lips. 

“I’ll pull over.” 

You shudder at her boldness, “Pull over.” 

Your car jerks to a stop and you jolt forward, eyes still glued onto Ellie’s mouth. One kiss… It isn’t sex. It’s just kissing; Who doesn’t love kissing? You’re alone and warm and it’s gorgeous outside. It would be just a kiss. Just one, just one. 

Ellie’s staring at you, eyes reminiscent of the storm outside. Flurrying and dark. Her tongue swipes over her lips again, and your gut swirls. “Stop staring at my hands.” You suck your bottom lip in your mouth when her breath hits it. She’s leaning forward and so are you. Just one kiss, that’s all you need. 

Your pussy’s talking and she’s loud… Literally meowing for her. 

“Is that a fucking cat?” Ellie whispers, nose brushing yours… She can hear that? How horny are you? 

“Dude, that’s a cat! There’s a cat right there!” Her gasps shock you, and you peer out the window, finding a small, dark spot in gusts of white snow. There is a cat! 

“Oh, my fucking god! Ellie, what the fuck—“ You’re pushing the door open and she grabs your arm. 

“Wait, you’re gonna fucking fall— “

“We can’t leave her, she’s gonna die out here!” You rush out in seconds and you’re slipping like a cartoon character on a banana. You’re kissing the air to lure the kitty over, but she just cries. She’s probably starving! 

“C’mere, baby, c’mon!” You hear Ellie muttering curses from behind you. After almost busting your face on icy concrete, you’re finally close enough to scoop up the shivering ball of fur, and you’re sobbing as you wrap your scarf around her tiny body. 

“Ellie,” you choke, “We ca—can’t leave h-her— “

“Okay, okay, stop crying, where is she?” You hold up the bundled fabric and Ellie gently takes her, shoving her in her hoodie before grabbing your wrist and guiding you to the car. Ellie hops in the driver's seat, the car filled with desperate meows and your hysterical sobs. 

Ellie cranks the heat and holds the wrapped furball, softly cooing at her. 

“Where’s your mama, hm?” 

Meow! 

“No mama?” 

Meow! Meow!

You’re wailing, “She’s a fucking or—orphan— “

“Can you be quiet.” Ellie snaps. 

“O—“you sniffle harshly, “Ok—okay— “

“Hold her, I gotta drive. We’re going to Petco.” Ellie’s zooming down the street, whipping and swerving. You’re almost positive she ran a red light. 

“I know you don’t like small animals, but c-can we keep her, please— “

Ellie’s lip curls, “It’s not that I don’t… not like them—” She rambles on, but you’re so focused on the baby in front of you. Poor thing looks so tired. What if she’s sick? Oh God, she would’ve froze to death if you didn’t stop—

You blabber to her between choked whimpers, “I love you so much, we’re gonna get you safe, don’t worry— “

“Oh, my fucking god,” Ellie sighs softly beside you. 

Pheromones will have to wait. You’re a mother now. 

After your emergency pet escapade, you and Ellie sneak the cat past the complex security and into your apartment. If anyone finds out — if Carol finds out — you’re fucked… and unhoused. 

Small meows are filling your ears. Your baby’s full, at least. Poor thing was horking down minced tuna in the car. Her teeth are so small and cute. She looks like she’s going to doze off soon. 

You watch as Ellie sets up her little area in the living room… Right next to her fucking photography set up when the fuck did she do that—

The corner of the living room is fully decked with maroon and ebony backdrops, Ellie’s sticker-littered camera resting proudly on its stand. There’s a… big ass umbrella-looking thing towering over the setup and a stool on the dark floor cover. There’s a small, white briefcase on it, tied down with a padlock. It’s either a gun or her portfolio. 

“Bring her over here.” 

Your gawking gets cut short as you cradle kitty over to Ellie, handing her over so she can lay her on the small, paw-shaped bed. She’s purring; Your heart’s melting. 

“I see you haven’t changed your mind.” 

Ellie’s tucking your baby in, “About?” She hums.

“The shoot.” You whisper. 

“Why would I?” She faces you and stands. You shrug nonchalantly, but your mind’s racing. You probably found someone worthy of doing it. 

Ellie inches closer, looking down at you. “Consider it roommate bonding… Featuring adopted cat child.” 

You giggle. She's staring at your smile, all over your face. Into your eyes. Yours flicker down to her mouth. Either you're hallucinating, or she’s leaning closer. One kiss won’t hurt. 

“Um…” She whispers, gaze dropping to the floor. “Earlier I was gonna… say something.” 

“What is it?” 

She shrugs, “… I forgot.” 

“Okay.” You’re whispering now. She’s staring at your mouth. Her eyes are hypnotizing; There's a universe in them. A forest with trees that grow for eternities, miles and miles of green meadows. 

“You’re staring.” She mutters. 

“So are you.” 

Ellie wants to say something. You can see it. But she doesn’t, and neither do you. “Gotta get up early… I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her voice cracks. 

You’re cheesing and your hearts in your throat. “Yes. See you tomorrow.” 

One last toothy grin, she’s gone into her room, door shutting softly for the first time. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath, already missing her presence. 

You’re giddy when you finally climb into bed. You can’t help but think that Ellie is, too. 

longest taglist ive ever had i am very sorry if i forgot somebody pls dont hate me i am neurodivergent : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧ #ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x you #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

[ratstwond]

Smiling Critters? As if the cartoon show?

Disclaimer: This is made for fun, there's no specific lore to them.

Warning: Bad English.

MC will be a Red Panda, since i did research about these little fellas and immediately fall inlove with them. But that doesn't mean i won't write for Lamb!Reader or Other animal!Reader.

Reblogs and comments are encouraged! Any kind of interaction are appreciated!

Pervious || Next

Confusion plastered on your face when you rolled to the side, expect to feel the hard, unforgiving cold floor. You were met with the soft patches of grass, tickling your skin, swaying slightly to the cool wind. Colorful flowers surrounded you as if they're concerned. The smell of fresh air assaulting your nostrils, lacing with a tint of newly baked pie. Sounds of laughters and happy squeals filled your eardrums instead of off-putting silence or screams that get you traumatized for days. Your body is light, relaxed, the backpack's absence seems to

Is this heaven? Or a dream? Was everything in Playtime.co just a nightmare? So many questions running through your mind.

Bird's chriping snap you out, you brush it off. More distracted by the newly surroundings, warmth envelopes like a weighted blanket as you squint in surprise when the sun light grazed your eyes. Unfamiliar with the sudden change of environment. Being in the dark for so long with makeshift lights and sunny sky had your body unconsciously adapted, naturals make you recoiled.

You feel like crying. You don't know when was the last time you bother to think about the outside when all you focused was trying to survive. Reality hit you like a truck and left you broken.

"Oh no no! Don't cry!"

In the midst of moment, hands reaching out to cup both sides of your face, tilting you chin upward gently. You can't help but jolt, quickly get on your feet and stood with your arms raised, tail puffed up and claws out.

You got a good look at the foolish soul that dared to touch you so suddenly and immediately you recognize the familar mascot. A bear. Who's equally as spooked as you, debating whether back off or calm you down. Red fur with some lighter tone of red, heart necklace dangling on its neck, signature blackened eyes with white pupils, and a stretched out smile. She is nervous, and you're too. Both of you had a stare off for what seems to lasted 3 minutes before the bear decided to cut the tense string.

"Hi-! My name is Bobby Bearhug."

You stared, Bobby took it as a sign to continue.

"I'm really sorry.. For touching you so suddenly like that. It wasn't a wise choice-"

"No-nono! It's okay! It's not your fault, i wasn't in my right mind!"

Now it's her turn to stare at you, unexpected as you fumbled, fiddling with your fingers nervously. Now it's her turn to jolted when you let out a short scream after you took a good look at your hands- er paws? Colored fur instead of normal human skin you once had. Panicked, you ran to a nearby river, glancing at your reflection just to be met with a whole new body. Built exactly like the critters, black conjunctiva with white pupils, unsual big mouth. A red panda. And oh you smell like old books-

You grabbed your own ear.

"Wah- hey!"

It was a bit stupid to tug it so harshly like that, the painful ache on your head is enough for you to know that this is real. You groaned in pain, sitting on the grass then get spooked by seeing your tail tucked beside you. Bobby, upon watching you - couldn't help but snort while you're busy freaking out by your own tail.

She shook her head, taking her seat beside you - who had done with their silly antics and is too tired to move - as she only smiled. You're still confused why all of the sudden you woke up in another- word? Yet, weird shits happened all of the time so you maybe will just go along with whatever came to you.

You told Bobby your name, which, the bear immediately brightened, smiling happily. She shakes your hand when you held out,

"You're silly." She added.

"Thank you."

#smiling critters #reader insert #x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smilling critters x reader #fanfic

[tiredfox64]

Since my identity as an anon have been exposed for that fic I did request,,,,

Can you make Pipsqueak pt. 2,,,,

*looks at u with my big eyes*

(I need to know the stupid shenanigans,,,,)

(Sorry got gay)

Little Bitty Pretty One

Yip notes: in my best Italian accent Don't say I neva did anything for ya. You are in debt to me.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: Haha you still small!

It seems when you need Liu Kang the most he is not there to answer. He could at least leave a message.

Well, you’re still small, unfortunately. Or maybe you like this situation. You’ve been stuck this way for two days now. Just as Bi-Han thought, you are incapable of doing many things. You’ve been depending on him for everything. You truly had no choice but to obey your grandmaster. Cause when you are the size of a Norway rat but lack the abilities of one your survivability is at a low possibility. So do him a favor and act good.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Bi-Han tries his best not to wake you up in the morning. He’s been keeping you in his room so he can keep an eye on you and prevent you from getting hurt. He has to tiptoe around or else he will wake you up. Little does he know you’ve been waking up when he does because he always groans when he wakes up. What a loudmouth. You stir in your makeshift bed made of soft cloth material and a sponge before pretending to still be asleep. He doesn’t know that you like to peek at him when he is getting ready for the day. He doesn’t sleep with a shirt on…need I say more? It’s enjoyable to watch him tie his hair into a bun, he looks so pretty. But you can’t watch him change fully he puts a bowl over you to prevent you from seeing. No worries there are holes at the top to allow you to breathe. Alright, now he will wake you up.

He pokes your back viciously but not enough to possibly break your spine. You smack his finger which does nothing, go figures. Then he scolds you lightly for hitting your grandmaster. Again, he can’t yell or else he will risk bursting your eardrums.

Breakfast time! What do you want? Trick question, you have no choice. Whatever Bi-Han gives you is what you get. He purposely leaves some of the food big to make it seem like you are a rat nibbling on it. As he eats his breakfast he’ll occasionally look to his side to see you nibbling on a slice of carrot, your teeth leaving little marks. Now you’re whining, saying you need much more than that.

“You are acting very greedy. Have I not done enough for you already?” Bi-Han asked but you know he is being petty. When is he not.

Fine, he gave you a proper meal. Though the slice of cucumber he provided was still too big for you so you had to munch on it for a bit. He found it entertaining to see you stuff my cheeks full of food like a hamster. You did look silly that way. Especially with that glare you gave him.

Time for practice! Not for you, you’re too tiny for that. You’re gonna be staying in the palm of Bi-Han’s hand where he will proceed to pet your back with his finger. He starts from the top of your head before sliding down to your lower back. For some reason, you immediately relax when he does that. You fight a little because you know he likes finding people’s weak spots and exploiting them. But you stood little chance since even when you were big you still couldn’t fight him off. So you are forced to partake in this wonderful torment where he slowly watches you melt in his hands.

Bi-Han was so distracted by tormenting you he forgot to give orders to the rest of his clan. They waited with confused expressions. Kuai Liang had to tap on his brother to get his attention, only to be glared at by him as he quickly cupped you in his hands. He thought someone was trying to snatch you away from him. He can’t have that happening.

“What do you want, Kuai Liang?” he asked in annoyance.

Kuai Liang craned his neck in the direction of the clan to show that they were waiting. Bi-Han groaned as usual and gave them an order. Something mundane because he couldn’t care less in that moment. He was more preoccupied with you which you were trying to squeeze out of his hands again because you didn’t appreciate him leaving you in darkness.

Your little hands were trying to scratch their way between his fingers before he realized what you were doing. He uncapped his hands and you looked up at him like he just committed the ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t give me that face.”

He had you sit on his hand while looking out to the clan so you could watch them. His pointer finger and thumb were constantly squishing your face or rubbing below your chin. At this point anything he is doing to you is subconscious. He doesn’t know that he is doing it but it feels right to do, like twirling a pen while writing. It is necessary to squish something so small and fragile. You’re not having it. You’re out of here! Plan your escape!

You started walking on his arm, occasionally having to grab onto his arm guards to prevent yourself from plummeting to the ground. He sees your efforts and he does not like it. He tried to grab you but you kept swerving out of the way. Soon enough you were at his clothes and used them as a way to get down. You heard him saying words such as ‘stop’, ‘no’, and the occasional ‘obey your grandmaster’. You’re your own person, you can handle yourself! You can survive without your grandmaster’s assistance.

Never mind there was a giant golden orb weaver on the ground. It’s a female unfortunately so it’s humongous. You are not ready to handle that.

Bi-Han!!!

He froze the weaver in a matter of seconds before shattering it into millions of pieces. You were hugging his boot with your eyes closed, wondering if he demolished the arachnid. He picked you up by your uniform and you screamed thinking it was the spider before realizing it was Bi-Han.

“Will you listen to me now?” he asked with his usual grumpy tone.

“Yes, grandmaster.” You replied with your head lowered.

You obeyed him for the rest of the time, thank the elder gods. I would say that it made everything easier but you were still left being poked, petted, and squished by Bi-Han. At least when dinner time rolled around you were able to breathe. You got to munch on a nice, fat dumpling. Took a while before you got to the filling but it was so worth it when you did. That dinner could have knocked you out immediately after. You almost did but you were startled when Bi-Han picked you up and brought you to his office.

Escape plan part two!

Forget it, he already knew what you were planning. You tried to run around on his deck but he quickly pulled you back before placing you at one end of a hand towel. In one fell swoop he rolled you up like sushi. There, now you will stay in one place.

“Hey! You can’t do this! I’m a human being!” You yelled in a shrilled voice.

“A human being who drank a potion when I told you not to.” He got you there.

You could be angry all you want but you did get yourself into this mess. So just lay there and take your medicine.

You were forced to lay there silently as Bi-Han worked for about half an hour before the door opened. Finally, Liu Kang is here to help you. But for some reason, Bi-Han didn’t seem to be thrilled about this.

“I have been informed that there was a little incident,” Pun intended, “Let me assist in making things righ—oh.”

Liu Kang saw you wrapped in the hand towel with your eyebrows furrowed in anger. He gave a questioning look towards Bi-Han but at the same time, he could understand if your grandmaster had a hard time keeping you under control. Liu Kang had to hold himself back from chuckling as he reached towards you. He was going to unravel you to help get you back to normal but Bi-Han snatched you away. It nearly gave you whiplash.

“Bi-Han, I need them to get them back to normal.” Liu Kang informed him but Bi-Han walked out of the room with you in hand.

You were shouting at him and asking what he was doing and saying that this was what he wanted. You may think this whole situation was a hassle for Bi-Han. You would be slightly wrong. He finds this situation very entertaining and even, though he would never admit, adorable. It’s like having his own personal pet. A pet that has to depend on him because they don’t have any animal-like skills.

He will have you return back to normal one of these days. But this day won’t be it. Liu Kang was trying to get an answer from him but he wouldn’t say a word. He walked right into his bedroom, made a wall of ice to prevent anyone from getting in, and sat right on his bed.

He unraveled you before carefully placing you in your makeshift bed. He didn’t want you asking any more questions so he started to pet your back again. It’s too easy. With the food in your belly, the tight wrap from the towel, and the feeling of Bi-Han petting and rubbing your back you were out like a light. You were even drooling a little.

Bi-Han hasn’t felt this much joy from something in a long, long time. He wasn’t even allowed to have a pet when he was young. So let him enjoy this for a little longer then he will bring you back to normal.

But when you are back to normal you better not drink another strange potion he swears to the elder gods!

Now he can get ready for bed. He needs to mentally prepare himself for the next day. Who knows what you could do then.

Are you peeking at him taking his shirt off again? Turn your head! Damn rodent…

Yap notes: Last time I wrote for you that spine-eating goofball payed me a visit. He better not come around again just cause I did this for you. Also I hope you are feeling better I saw that you said you were sick get some Vic’s vaporub, ginger ale, and an egg to cleanse yourself. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #bi han #bi han x you #bi han x reader #bi han mk #bi han sub zero #bi han mortal kombat #mortal kombat bi han #sub zero x you #sub zero x reader #sub zero mk1 #sub zero

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

A Drunk Mind Speaks A Sober Heart Part 2

Summary: Reader and Buck wake up hungover but manage to make it family breakfast with the team and their families. The videos from the previous night are exchanged between the two and everyone is excited that they’re finally together 

TW/CW: Evan “Buck” Buckley x Reader, (Y/N) = Your Name, best friends to lovers finally made official, alcohol consumption mentioned, gets kind of spicy toward the end, swtiches POVs so look out for that. 

Requested?: No 

Word Count: 3,062 

A/N: If anyone wants a spicy third part lmk. I’m kinda down to write it lol. Not sure how good it would be tho. Again I say, I’m so proud of this. 

Prompts: None 

A/N: Absolutely gorgeous he is.

Part 1 Here

(Y/N)’s POV 

The sun coming through the curtains wakes me from my slumber but upon opening my eyes, I immediately shut them again because the sun is so much brighter than it should be. I roll over to find a bottle of water, some Asprin, a note, and my phone on charge. I don’t half remember last night to be honest. I know I got shitfaced in Maddie’s livingroom and look around me to find myself in one of her spare bedrooms. I reach over and pick up the note and read it, “Take two and chug. Don’t forget about breakfast at Athena and Bobby’s -Maddie” I do as directed and then check my phone to find a text from Hen that reads, “’A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ -Jean-Jaques Rousseau” there’s a video attatched so I make sure my volume is low so that it doesn’t burst my eardrums before opening it. I watch myself confess my feelings for Buck and flop back over to my back groaning once it’s over. I take a few deep breaths before getting up from the bed. 

I mentally thank Maddie upon finding my duffle bag and shoes at the foot of the bed. I struggle out of last night’s clothes and into clean ones, yank on my shoes, and venture downstairs in hopes of finding my keys and slipping out without waking Maddie, Chim, or the kiddo. Unfortunately, no such luck as they have already beat me out of bed. I tip toe around the corner into the kitchen only to find Maddie standing at the counter sipping coffee as she lovingly watches Chim play with Jee-Yun. I sigh in defeat as she notices my entry and picks up my keys from the counter beside her, “How’re you feeling?” she asks as she tosses them to me.  

“Like I got ran over by a train,” I laugh, “And embarassed,” I blush. 

She smiles, knowing exactly what I’m referring to, “It’s alright. We all knew, we were just waiting for you to figure it out,” she winks. 

It’s now that oblivious Chimney joins us with his adorable daughter perched on his hip, “Are we ready to head out?” Maddie and I nod so the four of us depart for the Grant-Nash residence. The entire way there I am contemplating just going home to avoid knowing and teasing looks from Maddie, Athena, Hen, and Karen all day but force myself to stay en-route because this has become a long standing tradition. One Sunday a month, the whole fireteam, their significant others, and their children gather at Bobby and Athena’s for a good old fashioned family breakfast. I ponder if I’ll even survive this one as I pull into the drive way and put my car in park but am quickly dragged out of my safety zone by Athena’s waving hand at the front door. 

Buck’s POV 

I shouldn’t have drank so much last night, I realize as I roll off the couch with a loud thump. From the kitchen, Christopher and Eddie giggle before Eddie cheers, “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Better get your ass up and get some Asprin in you and clean clothes on or we’re gonna be late to family breakfast.” I groan but know he’s right. I swipe my phone off the coffee table before making my way to the kitchen for Asprin and then to the bathroom to change clothes. I have a text from Eddie that reads, “Maybe just show her this since you can’t ever figure out how to tell her yourself,” attatched is a video so I press play to listen as I change clothes. By the time the video ends, I have my hands pressed to the counter and am staring down at my phone in shock. Maybe Eddie’s right. Apparently drunk me has a talent for explaining how I feel that sober me does not. 

I grabbed my phone and exit the bathroom to make my out of Eddie’s place, declaring to him on my way out, “Don’t say a word,” feeling his amused look on the back of my neck I feel a blush creep to my cheeks, “Stop it. Don’t give me that look.” Soon, the three of us arrive at the Grant-Nash household and I have to elbow Eddie in the ribs when we see (Y/N) getting out of her car due to the grin on his face. 

Third Person POV 

The breakfast gets along almost as it always does. Lots of chit chats and laughter. The ladies send teasing looks toward (Y/N) when Eddie asks how their night went but (Y/N) ignores them and they simply say it was quite interesting and elaborate no further. Eddie saw the looks though and makes a mental note to ask Hen or Maddie about it later. Several times Eddie caught Buck glancing or staring at (Y/N) and shot him a teasing grin over Christopher’s head. Buck brushed it off with a glare everytime.  

As mentioned, things aren’t quite the same as usual. As is normal, Bobby sits at the head of the table with Athena to his right followed by Harry, May, Karen, Hen, and (Y/N). To his left is Jee-Yun in a high chair followed by Chimney, Maddie, Eddie, Christopher, and Buck. Usually, Buck would playfully kick at (Y/N) under the table and she’d snatch food off his plate, mostly his fruit. They would get carried away in their own conversation and their fits of giggles and laughter would ring out over the other conversations happening but when anyone would look their way to question what is so funny they’d be too distracted to give an answer. Everyone always got a kick out of their playful behavior. However, today there was no playful kicks under the table or food snatched off of plates. The two couldn’t even look each other in the eye, too embarassed by their confessions last night that the other had no idea about. Although they did sneak glances toward each other when the other wasn’t looking. When Christopher has Buck’s attention or Buck is arguing about how a call went with Chimney over three heads, (Y/N) watches him out of the corner of her eye but pretends to be focused on something else or collects a bite of food if he happens to look anywhere near her direction. When (Y/N) is watching Jee-Yun giggle as her father makes airplane noises circling a small bite of pancake toward her mouth or listening in on the conversation between Hen, Karen, and May, Buck admires her subtly over the rim of his coffee cup but as soon as (Y/N) returns her gaze to her plate or someone near him he too distracts himself with something else. This odd behavior did not go unnoticed by the other adults at the table or even Christopher who would normally be too busy giggling at the pair’s antics to eat.  

The young boy also happens to be the first and only one to call the two out on the peculuarity of it all, “Buck? Why are you not kicking (Y/N)? And you haven’t stole any of his fruit,” he adds looking to her.  

The adults all grin as Harry also chimes in, “Yeah you guys have been quiet.” 

May nudges her brother and shakes her head as their mother speaks up, “I think they just don’t feel too good today. Maybe they didn’t get enough sleep.” Christopher and Harry exchange a look that says they don’t believe that one bit but a different conversation is picked up by the adults to shift the attention off of the two.  

(Y/N) risks a glance at Buck, wondering what his reaction is but he had also taken the same risk. The two lock eyes but quickly look away. In attempts to escape the situation and catch the breath that had been stolen by looking into his bright blue eyes (Y/N) excuses herself from the table saying her still bruised ribs are bothering her and she needs to stretch.  

Once safely in a bathroom, (Y/N) stares at herself in the mirror trying to decipher what it was that she saw in his eyes. Buck always has shown exactly how he feels through his eyes but today she can’t quite make out what exactly that is. She sighs heavily just as someone knocks on the door. 

Out in the dinning room, Buck has excused himself as well giving no particular reason but the adults need not ask because they know exactly why. As soon as Buck is out of earshot, Eddie leans forward to look at all the ladies in turn before asking, “What exactly happened last night?” The women all look at each other seeming to silently debate about spilling the beans.  

Chimney and Bobby look at each other as well before Bobby adds, “I would like to know as well but you seem to have something to share too.” 

May giggles, “It’s like a Mexican stand off of exciting stories.” 

Chimney retrives a coin from his pocket, “Heads, Eddie is up first. Tails, one of you ladies are gonna have to spill.” 

Everyone nods as Maddie looks down the hall, “Might want to be quick and quiet about it.” 

Chimney flips the coin and it comes up tails so Maddie wiggles in her seat and props her elbows up on the table, placing her fingers together. She takes a dramatic pause despite her warning to hurry up before explaining, “(Y/N) got plastered last night and we now have video proof as confirmation that she has feelings for Buck.” 

“I knew it!,” May whispers excitedly. 

Eddie lightly smacks Maddie on the arm, “You’re telling me they both confessed on the same night to separate people but have no idea?” Everyone looks to Eddie in shock, “Yeah, he had a few drinks last night and apparently drunk Buck has an easier time with putting his feelings into words. I got it on video” 

Hen laughs, “A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.” 

Everyone excitedly yet still remaining quiet cheers before Bobby settles them down, “Those videos stay with those who took them and we don’t mention this around them. Understood?” Everyone nods except Eddie and Hen who give Bobby a guilty look. He responds to their looks with one of suspicion, “What did you two do?” In unison the two videographers confess that they sent their video to the corresponding subject. 

Hen adds, “I figured if she had the video she could just show it to him when she’s ready.”  

Eddie nods in agreement, “I literally told him it might be an easier way of telling her if he can’t find the words while sober.” 

Bobby grins and shakes his head as Athena chimes in, “We’ll see. For now, let’s talk about something else so they’re not suspicious of us when they come back.” 

Back in the bathroom, (Y/N) responds to the knock at the door, “Who is it?” 

“It- it’s me,” comes Buck’s voice from the other side. 

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before unlocking and opening the door to let him in. She hops up to take a seat on the counter as he enters and closes the door behind him. They both stare at their hands, nervously fidgeting with anything they can until they both speak at the same time, “I’m sorry, I’m just-” They stop, staring at each other with red all over their cheeks. 

Normally, Buck would be a gentleman and let her go first but he just had to get this off his chest before he chickened out, “So, I got drunk last night. You know that saying drunk words are sober thoughts?” (Y/N) nods thinking back to the text Hen had sent with the video just this morning. Buck continues, “Well, Eddie caught my drunk words on video last night and... well,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and navigates to the video Eddie had sent before handing it to her, “Just watch it. Sober me 100% agrees with every word.” He looks at her with such scencerity on his face that it makes her heart skip a beat. The two sit in silence as she watches the video. Buck shifts nervously on his feet, scanning her face for her reaction and she smiles. His heart soars with hope that she feels the same way.  

When the video ends, she hands his phone back to him before retrieving her own from her back pocket, unlocking it, navigating to her own video and then, “Drunk words are indeed sober thoughts and drunk me is pretty damn good at sharing things that sober me can’t. I too agree with every word she said,” she says, handing her phone to him. He watches with a massive grin on his face as one plasters itself on her’s as well. There’s not an ounce of fear or nervousness left in her after having seen his video. She thinks to herself that if she has the honor of marrying the man in front of her one day, it’s only right that Eddie be his Best Man and Hen be her Maid of Honor. 

Once the video ends, Buck places her phone on the counter beside her and leans in close with a grin still on his face only now it has a slight hint of cockiness to it, “I guess the only thing to do now is ask you to be my girlfriend. So will you?” 

As he hooks his finger under her chin and lifts it to align their lips, the distance between them shrinks even more. He can feel her breath on his lips when she affirms, “Obviously,” so he glances down at her lips before looking into her eyes. She inches closer, encouraging him to close the distance, and he does. They share the same thought as the slow, love filled kiss takes place and that is, “I love you.” When they begrudingly pull apart, and make eye contact, there’s no need to voice the thought as for one, their drunk selves already did but also, it’s seen in their eyes. 

Buck pulls even further away before placing his hands on her hips. He leaves them there for a moment, observing her reaction and somewhat looking for a nudge to continue his movements. She tilts her head, “What?” 

He says nothing at first, simply sliding his hands from her hips to place them on either side of the mirror on the wall behind her caging her in. He leans in close and brushes his nose against her’s, making her eyes flutter shut. When she opens them he’s just barely retreated, tilted his head, and is grinning from ear to ear. Feigning forgetfulness he asks, “What was that you said you wanted to do? It was something to do with my arms. Maybe you could remind me?” 

A mishevious grin with a hint of shyness to it replaces the look of curiosity on her face but is quickly replaced with a false sense of innocence as she lays her head over on his right arm. She stays there for a moment reveling in the eye contact between his now sultry eyes and her own wide eyed innocent ones before turning her head slightly to nuzzle her mouth and nose against his arm. A breath catches in Buck’s throat as she suddenly opens her mouth to lay her tongue against his bicep, slowly dragging it up before recoiling it back behind her teeth that she uses to nip softly against the skin covering the toned muscle. The sound that left his throat is one that she will remember for years to come and want to elicit from him again many times over. However, she simply lays her head back against his arm with a teasing look on her face, “We should get back out there before they come looking and find us in a scandalous situation.” 

Buck huffs, knowing she’s right and stands up straight removing his hands from the wall to help her down from the counter. (Y/N) quite likes it when he lifts her by her waist to place her feet on the ground and has to stop herself from wondering what it would be like for him to toss her into bed as he takes her hand in his. He doesn’t exit the bathroom just yet but instead tugs her close, hooks his finger under her chin once more to whisper against her lips, “Fine, but you’re sitting in my lap to cover the situation you’ve caused in my pants.” She giggles and nods before opening the door herself and tugging him along behind her.  

All eyes are on the two love birds as they reenter the dining room causing blushes to creep onto both of their faces and Buck to discretely scoot just a little closer behind her in hopes of hiding the afforemention situation better. He takes his seat, promptly pulling her into his lap which makes everyone whoop and holler in excitement. Eddie passes Maddie a twenty dollar bill which provokes a confused look from both (Y/N) and Buck.  

Maddie grins triumphantly, “I bet that the videos would be exchanged today. Eddie didn’t think you guys had it in you.”  

Eddie rolls his eyes as Athena calms everyone down, “You two didn’t... in the bathroom did you,” raising her eyebrows to insinuate naughtier acts than just exchanging videos. (Y/N) and Buck shake their head no immediately to which Athena replies, “Good.” 

The conversation soon returns to things other than the new couple at the end of the table. (Y/N) has an arm around Buck’s shoulders playing with his hair while his arm is wrapped firmly around her waist. His other hand is placed on her knee, even though he wants it to be higher, and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “You’ll have something in you if we can ever sneak away. I just didn’t bend you over in there out of respect.” (Y/N) slaps his chest with her free hand but Buck simply returns his attention to the group around the table and includes himself in the conversation. Under her, (Y/N) can still feel the situation and knows he’s not joking. She has to fight to keep from imaging what all they could get up to today. 

Masterlist

More Evan Buckley Imagines

Taglist:

#tv: 911 #911 imagine #911 imagines #911 buck #evan buckley 911 #buck 911 #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley imagines #evan buckley #911 buck imagine #911 buck imagines #buck 911 imagine #buck 911 imagines

[dilf-din]

I’m also curious what you’d do with 15 for rebelcaptain if you wanted to play with that

Me going overboard on a prompt? Never

This was very challenging for me to work out, so thank you! It was different than my usual.

Rebelcaptain (Jyn x Cassian)

WC: 1950

Warnings: major character death (not J or C), lots of angst, hurt comfort, alcohol mention

15. Sharing a bed used to be quite normal for us, when did that change?

Cassian’s head hung low as he led the way back to the ship. Not a word was exchanged while they walked single file, boots on gravel and the low hum of a bird piercing the silence. The air between them was heavy as they ignored the gaping hole torn in the fabric of their lives, the breeze that was gusting through and nipping at their extremities like like a bug on a summer day. They continued in silence as they tossed their gear and jackets carelessly into the hall, the ring of metal on metal pounding their eardrums. Jyn’s jaw set like granite as they made their way into the cockpit and ignored the empty seat while Cassian slipped into the pilot’s chair. He drew the headset on with reverent hands, eyes glazed over and mind running on autopilot. Jyn almost couldn’t bear it, but she wasn’t going to crack before him. There wasn’t the time.

Cassian flipped switches and turned knobs, following all the pre flight checks and rituals before they lifted into the air and began their trip home. Jyn wondered if it would even feel like that any more, if it ever would again.

She rested her back against the doorway and sank to the ground once they were stable, for some reason feeling the need to create space between her and Cassian. As always, she was following his lead. He had been more stoic than she expected, colder. Like a switch inside him flipped that she hadn’t seen yet. Maybe it was survival mode, maybe it was who he truly was.

She was able to slip into her mind and away from the reality of their mission, thankful for the mercy that Cassian knew how to pilot. She thought of her parents and ached for their warmth. She fished the Kyber crystal out of the neck of her shirt and turned it over in her hands, freezing when she saw blood caked under her nails, deep crimson faded to that awful rust color. Her fingers began to tremble violently as she tried to force the white shard back into the safety of her shirt, wishing she had never drawn it out in the first place. Then she kept wishing. She wished she had never joined the rebellion, because gaining a family meant she just had more at stake to lose again. She wished she had rotted inside that prison, that they never came to break her out. She wished she had died that day with her mother, that all of them had been razed down by Krennic’s cold gaze and hunger for revenge. Peering back into the cockpit, she felt resentment curdling in her gut, boiling like something gone sour. That bitter taste crept into the bottom her throat and she scrambled to the fresher just in time to blow bile all over the floor. She spat and heaved as her stomach turned in on itself leaving her eyes bleary and her lips red from scrubbing away the taste.

She wiped snot and tears on her sleeves, uncaring as they joined the rest of the grime there. She was going to burn this shirt when they got back to base anyway.

She returned to the doorway on light feet with a heavy heart, her head spinning from some combination of fatigue and vertigo.

“I’m going to go lie down,” she called into the cockpit.

Cassian didn’t falter, didn’t flinch didn’t even nod. For the first time since they had known one another, he was completely unreadable. The longer he went without speaking, the higher the wall between them seemed to climb, much higher in one afternoon than she ever imagined it would be in a lifetime.

Jyn tucked herself under the bench in the hall, tried to rearrange her pack in a way that wouldn’t leave her with a crick in her neck, and let the motion of the ship sing her to sleep.

She dreamed of Bodhi.

——

Weeks passed after their return to base, and the rift between Jyn and Cassian only seemed to grow. The other commanding officers took pity on them, gave them on base assignments for the time being. It might’ve been a war, but there was still humanity Mon assured.

They held a funeral for Bodhi, a pyre piled high of his things disintegrating before them like his body slipping from the cliff they clung to and becoming nothing more than a speck below. Jyn relived every second of that day a thousand times over. Bodhi’s injury. The tourniquet. His insistence that he could make it. His face going pale. The slip of his hand and Cassian grabbing for him. The slick material of Bodhi’s coat gliding through his numb fingers as he plummeted to his death. Jyn stared at Cass, mouth agape, but he wouldn’t look her in the eye, couldn’t look anywhere but down, in the direction of one of his greatest failures.

They gave space for his crewmates to share memories of Bodhi. People from every area of the rebellion reminisced of his kindness, his wit. From nurses in the medbay to fellow pilots to the cooks in the mess hall, everyone had something to say about the bright eyed boy. Cass stared into the fire with his jaw clenched and eyes glazed over. He was either absorbing everything that was said like a blaster bolt to the chest, or he was completely checked out. Jyn still couldn’t tell.

When everyone slowly filtered back to their quarters for the night, Jyn entered her empty room, resigned to face her ghosts alone once more, but something insider her was gnawing to go check on Cassian. They had barely spoken in weeks. She couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled one of Cassian’s well worn tunics over top of her sleep shorts, the sleeves and hem dwarfing her much smaller frame. Cassian’s quarters were only a few doors down. She knew the path blindfolded, had walked it countless times in the middle of the night seeking refuge.

When she knocked, there was a pause before she heard anything on the other side, a hesitance. She pleaded inside for him to open it and not pretend to be asleep, felt the turmoil in the force surrounding him.

She almost called his name, let it fall from her lips in a way she knew would break him, but she wanted the decision to be his. The sound of bare feet crossing the floor, the sound of the door sliding open, the pain painted across his face, the uncorked bottle of jet juice on the table. She crashed into his arms as the door closed behind her.

“What are you doing here?” he slurred.

“I’m worried about you,” she said, pulling away and taking his face into her hands. It had been long since he shaved, his stubble thick under her fingertips. Alcohol hung on his breath like the stench of death. There were clothes and towels strewn over the room, on the floor and over the backs of chairs.

“I thought you hated me like everyone else,” he said in a flat voice, like someone who had the fight knocked out of him one too many times. He slipped from her grasp and went to slump over on the sofa. The glass of deep orange liquid was knocked back in an instant with a sharp breath from him.

“How much of that have you had?” Jyn asked, her brows knit together in concern.

He shrugged, “Enough. Not enough.”

“You must’ve have several bottles to get it in your head that I hate you, that I blame you,” she crossed the room to sit on the table in front of him, “Is that what this is about?”

His head hung low still, refusing to miss her eyes.

“I haven’t been avoiding you because I hate you. I was trying to give you space. I don’t know what you need if you don’t talk to me, Cass,” she said, softer on the last bit.

“I need to not be a fuck up. I need people to stop putting so much trust in me and learn that I’m going to let them down every time!” he shouted. The veins in his neck strained and red crept into his eyes as a thousand regrets stung them at once. He couldn’t keep it in any longer, her presence broke the dam that had built up, allowing everything to rush out, leaving her as collateral damage in the wake.

Sobs shook his shoulders as his resolve crumbled. Jyn slipped herself under his arms and allowed his weight to rest against her chest. His hands grasped at her desperately, taking fistfuls of the loose shirt and pressing himself further to her like muscle memory. They fit together whether they liked it or not, whether things were going well or not, it was always the two of them.

She shushed him, smoothing her hands through his hair, taking note of the unusual layer of grease covering his usually soft locks.

After a few minutes, the sobbing subsided into sniffling, his weight still fully resting on her.

“Can you do something for me?” she asked softly, pressing her lips against his earlobe.

“Anything,” he said shakily, “Whatever you need,” his eyes rose to meet hers, his favorite shade of green.

“I’m going to go start a shower for you. Do you feel strong enough to at least rinse off?”

He nodded.

Jyn took his hand in hers and led him over the piles of mess and into the fresher. She started the water and waited until she saw steam creeping up the edges of the mirror to turn her attention to him. Nimble fingers worked to undo his buttons, letting his shirt fall away. He lifted his legs one by one as she helped him out of his trousers, and leaned into her neck once more. Her arms wrapped around him, and she scratched his shoulder blades lightly with the tips of her nails, sending a small chill down his spine and an even smaller smile to his lips.

“I’ll be just out here if you need me,” she reassured him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cassian lifted his head to press a long kiss to her lips, leaning his forehead against hers to linger for a moment before pulling away. An unspoken thank you, a gesture she recognized.

He disappeared into the cloud of steam, and Jyn re-entered the living space to get to work on the mess. She straightened the furniture, gathered the laundry, and filled a bag of the trash that had piled up. There were too many dirty clothes to wash in one load, so she did a sniff test on a few of the larger pieces, setting them aside to go in when the first load was done.

Cassian emerged to find her slipping new pillow cases onto each of their pillows atop the clean sheets she had used to dress the bed. He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, just content to hold her as she fluffed the last edges.

“I haven’t slept in weeks,” she murmured.

“Please stay,” he whispered, taking her wrist in his wide palm.

“Only if you want,” she gave him a chance to back out, didn’t want him to commit to anything just for her.

“I always want you near,” he smiled, for real this time, “As long as you’re alive, I want you in the space next to me at night, wherever that is.”

This time Jyn was the one to rest her weight against him, thankful to have even a glimpse of her partner back.

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #rebelcaptain fic #jyn x cassian #cassian x jyn #ask #sotvtaughtmehowtofeel

[wilbyowo]

Hc post no one asked for but it’s 5 am and i can’t sleep

So: the militsioner right? Yeah.

That guy is autistic. He has no idea yet but i just think he is, he’s blunt, he stares, he’s overall very bad with his social skills, and he’s under-stimulated which doesn’t help. Maybe this is why he seems so strict.

He likes birds, likes watching them fly, just the idea of something so free and small is appealing to him.

he actually dislikes his job a lot, like… A LOT but either theres a force keeping him in it, or he sees this as his duty or purpose and just can’t leave.

Dude hates the summer. I think his skin burns easily and sitting out with no cover every single day is probably not remotely easy to deal with.

I KNOW he has brown eyes in all the trailers and i love him for that but hear me out on hazel eyes.

If he had a way to be normal sized, this man is an animal whisperer without trying. Sucks with people, but animals flock to him. Sits in the street covered in feral pigeons, stray cats will come and nuzzle him, dogs will gladly pad up to him.

If we are sticking to canon with what we’ve seen in his models, my idea is he’s relatively skinny, but not super underweight. He’s not healthy though, if i’m honest. I have no idea if he eats, because how would the town be able to provide enough food for him. He survives off air and spite in the face of god.

Literally all of his dialogue is him MUMBLING, because if he spoke loudly or god forbid sneezed, he’d probably blow out the eardrums of everyone in a close radius, he’s very careful.

I think he’s early-mid 30’s in age.

#militsioner #Hc post #headcanons

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series I:XXIII

Act 1: The Way He Looks at You Chapter 23: The Way He Saves You

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

Cal pulls you from the rubble, desperate to save your life. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.2K

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Everything hurts and I’m laying on my back, unable to move more than my right arm. My ears are ringing and I can’t see anything through the clouds of dust. I cough weakly and struggle to clear my lungs, since something heavy is crushing them.

Extending my free hand towards the weight laying on my body, I attempt to Force push the object away. It barely moves and I drop my arm, struggling to understand my surroundings.

My hand lands on a metal cylinder, and my fingers wrap around it on instinct. One of my lightsabers, I was dueling and then, an explosion? I remember hearing them in the distance. Someone must have detonated something nearby.

The memories of earlier events flood back as the dust settles and I can see the space that used to be a room. I whip my head around quickly, trying to see the others. There’s no one, only piles of what used to be the ceiling.

Panic fills my mind as I realize she’s likely trapped as well, or maybe dead. She can’t be dead. I can’t survive if she is dead. I struggle under the weight of the debris, desperate to escape and find her before she suffocates.

Placing my lightsaber on the ruined floor, I Force push again. The enormous chunk of the ceiling shifts a bit and I squirm under it, trying to get leverage for my escape.

“Are you okay?” I shout out into the area. I know I spoke, but I can barely hear my voice. Taking a slow breath, I try again, but I still can’t hear myself. Did I lose my ability to speak? Was a lung punctured and I’m being kept alive by the rubble? Unable to lose blood with all the additional weight?

I try yelling at the top of my lungs and immediately fall into a fit of coughs. Realizing I pushed my voice too hard, I remain trapped longer while I try to steady my breathing.

It’s not my voice that’s the problem. I can’t hear. The ringing in my ears had tried to tell me, but I had ignored it. I reach up to touch my right ear and pull back to see blood on my fingertips; the explosion blew out my eardrums.

I throw my hand back down towards the crushing weight and Force push again and again. The process is painful and slow moving. Terrifying thoughts creep in, getting to her too late, finding her crushed body with no life in it.

She was everything to me; she was going to be a mother to my child. I don’t care what the Jedi said about sensing his child in her. He’s wrong. I could sense it was my baby in there, not his. If she’s dead, so is my legacy. My future, my family, my solace in this cruel galaxy is all gone with her.

I throw my hand down again, fueled by the rage of losing the only good thing to come my way. I grit my teeth and yell through them. The debris suddenly lifts and flies ten feet from me, finally free.

Scrambling to my feet, I grab, connect, and clip my lightsaber to my belt. I run towards where I last saw her; she was in the corner before the explosion. But I slip and fall forward, catching myself before smashing my face into the unforgiving terrain.

Looking down to identify what caused my foot to slide out from under me, I see a lightsaber. The Jedi’s. I glance at the pile of rubble that lies on top of where he must be, grateful that one good thing came from this tragedy.

I stand and begin using the Force to lift pieces of rubble from the corner and toss them behind me. The corner of the room still stands, but the ceiling caved in on it. I don’t dare climb onto the debris for fear of adding more weight to the pile.

I finally make a path and I can see her arm; the sight causes me to work more quickly. Moving forward to dig her out with my own hands. I use all of my strength to free her body. She’s laying on her side, blood running down her face. A deep cut near her temple is the source.

I reach out to touch her, begging the Force to keep her alive. When my fingers brush her skin, I feel her warmth and exhale a sigh of relief. She’s alive.

I finish freeing her and scoop her limp body into my arms. Her head lulls against my chest, and I can feel her blood soaking through the fabric of my uniform. My heart beats hard, and there’s a lump in my throat from the fear of losing her to blood loss.

I have to get her out of here, to the Medical Wing on Coruscant. I want to run towards my ship, but the damage to the building makes it impossible. Carefully picking my path through the area, ensuring that I don’t risk slipping and hurting her further.

Her slow and shallow breathing makes me nervous, its as if her body is giving up. I won’t allow it. She won’t die, not from this.

Guilt eats at me. It’s my fault she’s barely hanging on. If I had only taken her back home when I found her. But I was selfish and allowed my own desires to guide me. I was so eager to have her again that I didn’t consider the possibility of the danger she was in.

It’s my fault, I’m responsible for her suffering. She didn’t deserve this. It should be me that bleeds out instead. I would do anything to take the pain away and suffer in her stead. It was stupid to not prioritize her and her safety. I will never allow it again.

Once I’m out of the destroyed area, I jog the rest of the way towards the ship. I keep her held tight, trying not to jostle her too much as I move. Boarding faster than ever, I hold her unconscious body in my arms and I pilot the ship up into the sky.

I have never flown with such efficiency, but I’ve never had a reason. Transporting prisoners or even myself was hardly worth the extra effort. But holding this woman and watching her slip away terrifies me. I won’t allow any time to catch up and take her.

We land at the loading bay for the Medical Wing and I rush her inside. I am quickly greeted by several of the staff and a cot. I place her down gently as the team asks what happened and what injuries are present.

“Explosion. The ceiling caved in, she was trapped under it. Her head was cut, I don’t know what else.” I word vomit as much information as I can to them.

They take her further into the building and I try to follow, but a stern woman places a hand on my chest, stopping me.

“You can’t go with her.” She evenly says.

“Of course I can! Do you know who I am?” I bark back and try to push past her again.

She sidesteps to block my path, and I consider cutting her down. “I know exactly who you are, which is why you can’t go back there. Do you think physicians will work confidently with an Inquisitor breathing down their neck?”

Taking a breath, and finally look at the woman. “I suppose not. I understand. But you will assign someone whose sole responsibility is to provide updates to me. I will not be leaving.” I huff.

“Wonderful that you are staying.” She says dryly. “I need you to provide information about the patient. Come with me.”

I bite my tongue and follow the woman into a small waiting room. She asks questions and scribbles my answers on a clipboard. Mostly requesting information about the incident and nature of the injuries. I am frustrated from already answering these same questions, but she assures me they want to be thorough. I mention the pregnancy and struggle my way through the follow-up questions.

“Last question. What is the patient’s name?” She glances up at me over her clipboard.

“I don’t, she doesn’t-” I try to explain.

The woman gives me an unimpressed look and I feel my face flush.

“I don’t need the entire name. I can do first, last, nickname, anything you know.” She purses her lips.

“Uh, surname, just-” I take a sharp inhale. “Her surname is Kestis.”

She writes it down and stands to leave. “I’ll ensure someone keeps you updated.”

I wait impatiently, my entire leg bouncing while I sit. An hour goes by and I can’t stay seated any longer. I pace the room, dwelling on every mistake I made that caused the only light in my life to be so severely hurt. She is my light; she has been reminding me of the man I once was. The man who lived by the Light Side, a man I can no longer fully embrace.

Perhaps the Dark Side will always consume me, but she provides a way back. A candle on a dark night, a guiding beam, a light, my Light, my Little Light.

A physician finally enters the room. He looks tired and white as a ghost, his hands shake, clearly nervous to have to deliver news to an Inquisitor. I realize that his fear may tell me everything I already need to know. My heart drops. She’s dead.

“Thirteenth Brother, we have done all we can. I’m not sure when she’ll wake up but-” He starts.

“She’s alive?” I shout in surprise.

“Yes.” The man says slowly. “She’s alive, they all are.”

“Her and the baby?” I interject again.

“Babies.” He says, his eyes wide.

My eyes grow to match his and we stare at each other for a moment.

“Babies. As in more than one?” My mouth feels dry.

“Two.” He responds, trying to gage my reaction.

My mouth hangs open as I process the news. She’s alive and there are two babies. Neither I nor the Jedi were wrong. We each have created life with her.

“They’re all okay? Healthy?” I ask.

“The babies are healthy, the pregnancy is still new and everything inside the womb is as it should be.” The physician explains. “However, Ms. Kestis is in a coma. The fetuses will continue to grow and we will keep her taking the proper nutrients to ensure they stay healthy.”

“When will she wake up?” I demand.

The physician flinches. “I don’t know. The head injuries sustained were sizable. It could be anywhere from a couple days to…” He trails off, implying the unknown.

My stomach drops and I have to clench my jaw to avoid showing too much sadness. Instead, setting my face to its usual glare. “Take me to her.”

The man bows his head and gestures for me to follow. I am led into a sterile room and hesitate in the entryway when I see her laying there. She’s beautiful still, but covered in bruises and minor cuts. A large bandage covers the injury on her temple, a symbol of my failure.

I am left alone in the room and I move to sit by her bedside. Gently grasping her smaller hand in mine, I give it a light squeeze. She doesn’t respond, though I hopefully study her face, waiting to see her eyes open.

Tears prick my eyes as I sit, realizing that I am responsible for another lost life. Even if she isn’t dead, she may never wake up, and the galaxy would be worse for it. I have caused too much loss. Usually the hate prevents me from caring, but I love her.

My mind punishes me with memories of lives destroyed in my hands. Countless people with no discrimination on age, gender, or race. Grief floods veins and my heart aches at the memories. The worst one comes back. I loved once before, but she lost her life because of me. Taken from me to turn me towards the Dark Side.

I try to push the painful thoughts away, but as I stare at another victim, I can only blame myself. I have caused so much damage simply be being a part of the galaxy. If I had never existed, maybe more people would have lived. My life, in exchange for hundreds.

A single tear falls down my cheek and I glance up at the door while holding my breath. I wipe the tear away, surprised by its appearance. Leaping to my feet, I understand I can linger no longer. I can’t risk being seen caring for someone so vulnerable. It only puts a further target on her head, and I won’t take the risk.

I have much work to do; I need to prepare my quarters to house my new family. Modifications are necessary to accommodate the two new residents. As I walk out of the room, I see a neatly folded pile of black clothing and a satchel laid on top. Still mostly covered in dust, but cleaner that before.

I shake off as much of the filth as I can before folding and returning the clothing. In case she wakes up, I want her to have something to wear. Peeking inside the satchel, I see loose and broken tech scattered throughout. I’ll need to get the reader fixed before she wakes, so I take the satchel with me as I exit. Sparing only a small glance in her direction before taking my leave.

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Next Chapter: The Way He Restarts for You

#HereForTheFanficsAndRomanceWorks #The Way He Looks at You #TWHLAY #Cal Kestis x Reader #Cal Kestis x You #Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Reader #Inquisitor Cal Kestis x You #Inquisitor Cal x Reader #Inquisitor Cal x You #Jedi Fallen Order #Jedi Survivor #Jedi Fallen Order Fanfiction #Jedi Fallen Order Fanfic #Jedi Fallen Order Fic #Jedi Survivor Fanfiction #Jedi Survivor Fanfic #Jedi Survivor Fic #Fallen Order Fanfiction #Fallen Order Fanfic #Fallen Order Fic #Star Wars Fanfiction #Star Wars Fanfic #Star Wars Fic #Cal Kestis Smut #Inquisitor Cal Kestis Smut #Inquisitor Cal Smut #Jedi Fallen Order Smut #Fallen Order Smut #Jedi Survivor Smut #Star Wars Smut

[avatarvyakara]

Presenting the premier Addy Brock collection from Strands of Webbing!

Starting out with diversion of a canon event because, honestly, [bleep] that noise:

52. React

"DON’T!" she screams. But Ven#m is already halfway towards the M.O.R.B.I.U.S. device, a look of determination on its electronic inFace—

Until, with a grunt, all three point one five tons of SP//dr shoves the other mech out of the way of the beam of light just in time. A nearby building fuses into a twisted mess of metal and glass, like a Vonnegut crystogram.

"What the hell was that for?" comes the angry voice of Addy Brock from Ven#m's modulator.

"Rule number one on this team: you don't get yourself killed to prove a point!" snaps Peni.

Ven#m's inFace expresses strong shock.

"…we're a team?"

"I didn't say that."

That chirpy expression looks really weird in black and neon white. It probably doesn't help that the teenager inside has a much more…smug face, and that Peni can see both of them quite clearly.

"You implied it."

"Shut up. Now help me figure out this thing's weak spot. And don’t you dare die."

(Addy survives. But Peni's not sure, after the loud squeal at the end of the fight, whether her eardrums are going to last the week.)

60. Introductions

“You’re welcome to stay longer,” she tells Gray with a little hesitation, as they sit atop the New Chrysler eating putty-cakes from a street vendor below. “You could actually come over.”

His eyes shine, but his brow wrinkles—for once he’s got the mask off. He looks like Peter Parker. He looks nineteen. (Thirty. Eighty.)

“I don’t know if your folks would be okay with that.”

“You already met Addy.”

“Well, yeah.” Admittedly, she did threaten Gray with a fate worse than death and a mech. Neither of which seemed very effective to the other Spider, who had just laughed. One Saturday she’d be very happy to forget, honestly. (But he laughed, so there was some success that day.)

“I’ve been trying to explain this to them, the whole multiverse thing,” she says, and huffs. “They still think I’m crazy. Or that I’m lying and that I’ve actually just gotten myself some shady lowlife koibito to spite them.”

Gray’s face hardens. “If that word means what I think it means, then they should know way better.”

But it softens again when he looks at her. “But a six-foot-three-inch-tall nineteen-year-old with a face like a darned sock isn’t going to be much help to you, kiddo.”

“You’re literally from another dimension—”

“And I look scary. I won’t be making it easier for you on my own, not with how you say your aunt and uncle are. Maybe you can get Miles and Gwen in on this?”

She wants to protest, but then he says: “Maybe Ham and Peter too, Make an outing of it for the whole cluster. That way the others can distract them a little.”

“...I guess that makes sense.” He’s her best human friend, and she wanted to recognize that. But even so...maybe that would be better. She was able to pass off Miguel as a Mercurial pen-pal with a cosplay addiction (most Earthers will believe anything about the decadent and obscenely wealthy and more-than-slightly inhuman Spacers), but the rest are going to be harder—her black-and-white and cartoon counterparts especially. Telling the whole story, with proof, becomes easier if there are kids her age to help soften the blow. (Plus, Peter B couldn’t look threatening if he tried.)

Still.

“You’re not scary, though,” Peni insists. “Not to me.” She grins. “You’re too much of a dork for that.”

He squeezes her shoulder, and gives her a smile no less warm for being in monochrome. “Whereas you frighten the life out of me, doll.”

She hugs him. This time around, he doesn’t resist.

“...seriously, though, what’s in that crispy paste stuff?”

“Sun-fried seaweed, Mercury-style.”

“...it’s not too bad. Tastes kinda like latkes. Like a latke dough, but you can eat it.”

“It’s pretty good. My favourite’s yungay potato.”

“Ah, a lady of quality.”

She laughs at that.

80. Comrade

Adelaide Brock is fourteen when she makes her first two real friends. People who actually get it. Who understand the thrill of the ride, and the joy of the psychic link.

They have their differences, of course. Peni’s more of a drill sergeant in the field, always efficient, applying incredible precision. Addy’s always been more of a performer at heart, and her spider (her spider), Weying, seems to sympathize. Ven#m likes the spotlight, isn’t really up to just fighting and heading home, prefers to mug for the crowds and crow over a few muggers. (And occasionally fantasizes about trapping and eating the monsters they defeat like the oversized prey they are, but that’s spiders for you.) Maybe it’s showboating a little, but hey, if you have a ship, why not display it?

But at the end of the day...Peni saved her life. Soon after, she saved Peni’s. They’re a team. They’re actually talking. And she and Weying have been working together for ages now, and New York loves them. Life is good.

Now, if only Peni would actually let her know who she keeps talking to on that weird 2D group chat of hers...

170. Hardcore

“...until ultimate termination.”

Peni blinks.

“Are you sure we’re the same person?”

Other Peni rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Even if your SP//dr is a bit...”

“A bit what?”

“You know...impractical? For fighting bad guys?”

Peni frowns. “Mostly kaiju, actually.”

“You sit in a glass cockpit and punch giant monsters and somehow you’ve survived as SP//dr for...how long now?”

“Three years. How about you?”

“Two. ...oh, no, there is no way you’re older than me. You look twelve!”

“Uh...I’m sixteen.”

“Ah, Peni! I see you’ve met Peni?” says Ham, striding through the workshop with a sandwich and out the other side. “Have fun!”

“I guess,” mutters Other Peni.

“...Dad’s death still bothering you?”

“What? No, that was ages ago.” Other Peni sighs, which helps Peni feel less like yelling at her dismissive tone (which would be counterproductive). “Mostly it’s just the job. It...kinda grinds down on you after a while.”

“...I guess I can relate to that.”

Other Peni coughs. “So...you like listening to music while you work?”

Peni lights up. “Do I? Come on, let’s get the sound started. Have you heard anything by Karam Heiwa?”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Other Peni smiles.

“I can see you’ve got good taste.”

“It’s probably a Peni Parker thing,” says Peni, conversationally. “Gray’s stuck on swing, Peter B’s more Silver Age Electric, and Gwen’s into punk, but you just can’t beat KH for tunes to work with.”

Other Peni cautiously goes through the playlist on the holographic display, as though she’s worried about breaking something. Then her faces lights up.

“Hey, is this ‘Nuke-ular’? I haven’t heard this album in ages!”

...of course Other Peni would choose the most depressing song in the mix. Still, baby steps.

183. Talk

The first time Addy stops by the workshop when Other Peni is there, Other Peni is furious at Peni for suggesting she come and say hi. Genuinely furious.

The second time—after some prompting and a long discussion where Other Peni Parker cries for the first time Peni remembers—Other Peni is there to greet her.

“Uhhhh...Peni? Is that you? You look tired. And...older.”

“...hey, Addy. It’s me. This is gonna sound weird, but...I’m from another dimension and I just...kind of wanted to see you again.”

She sounds so tender.

Addy blinks.

“It’s okay,” says Peni, coming around to the front of the space. “She’s...a friend. Sort of. But you have to keep this a secret. This is beyond mech stuff, it’s insanely important. Swear?”

Addy nods, wide-eyed.

“Good! You two have fun!”

“Peni, you weren’t supposed to—” Other Peni growls, but Peni’s already wheeling herself out.

It should help. She knows it would help her. And she’s about 90% certain Addy will forgive her, and has fifteen different prospective options to hasten that process.

...figures that when she steps back in, Addy and Other Peni give her rather evil grins.

“You know,” says Other Peni casually, “the nice thing about being the same person? It means you’re already well aware of a fair few...embarrassing incidents.”

“...you didn’t.”

“Me? No, no. We just traded life stories. If they match up, it’s just a coincidence, right?”

Addy cackles.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“Aw, lighten up, Choking Hazard.”

“Adelaide Brock, you swore not to tell a living soul—”

“Actually I just said I’d only talk about it with you. And, well...”

Other Peni laughs.

(The sacrifices one makes for the good of one’s fellow Spiders...)

238. Rudolph

“If you think I’m missing this, Peni Parker, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Addy...I don’t know. I mean, yes, you got bitten, but...I’ve never met another Addy Brock out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Addy tosses her head back and offers her friend an easy grin. “Then I won’t get hurt. Simple as that. Trust me, Peni. I know when to pull back now.”

Peni sighs. “Fine. But be careful, right? Follow my lead.”

The red SP//dr enters the hole in space just before the black Ven#m does, and leads the way.

And on the other side—

“Hey!” calls Miles happily, coming over to meet them. “Glad you could make it!”

“...hi,” says Addy, blushing quite pinkly all of a sudden.

Peni rolls her eyes. “Excuse my friend. Addy, this is Miles Morales, Spider-Man. Miles, my best friend and coworker Addy Brock and her Spider Weying, alias Ven#m.”

“...how are you pronouncing that?” asks Ham. “Hey, I thought me and Mister Egg Cream over there were your best friends.”

Gray looks like he’s trying not to grin. Peni can feel a blush coming on herself. “I’ve got four best friends. Addy’s the only one you guys haven’t met yet.”

“Well, welcome to the team,” says Miles easily. “And Happy Hanukkah!”

(“Should I tell him you’re a Zuhariyya Muslim?”

“Nah, it’s okay.”)

297. Tea

“So, that’s one Earl Grey for Billy, one Boba for Peni, two Green for Hida and Other Peni, one Black for Cindy, one Lemon Grass for Roshni, and one Masala Chai for me,” says Pavitr, taking notes.

“I feel like we’re inviting stereotypes here,” says Roshni.

“I don’t reckon so,” Billy replies, preemptively reaching for the sugar.

“For Peter...coffee. And a reminder of what civilization looks like when you don’t commit blasphemy.”

Pauker glares. “I told you, that was in Boston!”

“And a Peppermint for Addy.”

On her shoulder, Weying the spider bounces excitedly.

“...no, Addy.” That’s from both Peni Parkers at the same time, exasperated in different ways.

“Aw, man...”

322. Mitosis

“Don’t count on it working,” says Other Peni. “And be careful.”

Peter cracks his knuckles.

“Just gotta give it the ol’ college try.”

And he walks up to the bulky form of Ven#m. Not as nice-looking as Addy’s, honestly. And a cannibal at that. Joke about it though he may, he doesn’t much like cannibalism.

Peter doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but there’s always such a thing as giving it the ol’ college try.

(Granted, he never went to college.)

—what are you?—

“Me? I’m just a good buddy here to annoy you into spitting out my friend’s loved ones.”

The capsule opens, revealing a tangled mess of cable-like tentacles that snake towards him.

—is Peni so desperate that she’s sending in cartoons to aid in her futile endeavours?—

—hahahaa—

—don’t make me laugh, little piggy—

—we are Ven#m—

—what are you going to do?—

—“huff and puff and blow my house down”?—

Peter pulls out the giant horn his niece Dahlia sent back from a trip to Switzerland.

“Something like that, yeah.”

362. Celebrity

Do I get one? I get one! Wheeee! ...um. Sorry. Anyway.

My name is Addy Brock. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for five years I’ve been one third of the one and only Ven#m. I’m from New York in the year 3150, I have a psychic link with a spider who lives inside the robot I tried to take for a joyride when I was fourteen, and my best friends in the world are Peni Parker and Weying, the aforementioned radioactive spider.

Pretty sure you know the rest. Saved the city, mugged for the camera, saved the city again and again, had a hundredth-of-life crisis during which I, uh...we don’t really talk about that. (I’m banned from Greater Peru until I’m eighty-five, on a completely unrelated note.) But I got back up. Also, I met an alternate version of my best friend who lost her me and really needed someone to keep her laughing. And that’s me. Addy Brock, clown superhero extraordinaire. (Peter Parker? Never heard of him.) Peni may be the OG, but I’m the sequel that nobody knew they wanted but now can’t get enough of. I’ve even been to Mars on business—you know how difficult it is for an Earther to get direct to Mars, let alone for a job? Usually they hire local, or take on seasonal workers from the ecoships. This is big stuff.

...but at the end of the day, I love being Ven#m. And...I like having friends who get it. I got randomly assigned a last name matching my closest genetic relatives, but Peni and her Aunt May and Uncle Ben are the first real family I’ve ever actually had. So guess what? Ven#m is here to stay, with the Parkers, in the Republic of New York, on Earth.

As long as they’ll have me.

(“Well, then, looks like even reincarnation won’t be enough to let you get away, Addy.”

"And when they get sick of you, me and my aunt and uncle and Other Addy will take over."

“Aw, you guys. Peni Parkers? Ultimate upgrade in superhero mettle. Besides yours truly, of course.”

”How modest.”)

#spider verse #addy brock #peni parker #peter benjamin parker #spider man noir #sp//dr #venom #peter porker #addy x peni #if you squint #pavitr prabhakar #obligatory tea joke #(made PRE-movie thank you!) #strands of webbing #across the spiderverse #happy ending #non canon #because i said so #one shot collection

[stackofstories]

Luke listened to the steady drum of the rain. There could be no mistaking where they were. The Stormlands. He settled underneath the heavy fur blankets, guessing at what animal had been skinned as it tickled his nose. Beaver, fox, bear, or maybe the more common pelt of a stag, he knew them to roam around the Stormlands, kingly in their crown of antlers.

Whatever the animal was, it was thick and plenty warm and he considered it mercy on this rainy, autumnal night. Even if he had to share the bedroll with Uncle.

Luke willed himself to disassociate. He moved as far away as the bedroll would allow, even if it went against the idea of huddling together for warmth. Tonight, he untethered. The shadows danced on the wall and he tried not to think or feel anything. He had shelter; he had fire, and he saw a clear river within the hours he and Uncle went into the woods. Tomorrow, he would make a decisive plan for survival and escaping this unfortunate situation. But tonight, he wanted to recoup.

This emptying of the mind nearly worked. Shadows waxed and waned. The sound of rain was a steady anchor of background. He burrowed further into the blankets, drifting to sleep, only to be pushed out of calm by the inane sound of breathing.

Loudly.

Sleep slipped through his fingers despite his struggle to grasp it. Luke stirred, forced awake as he listened to the horrid assault on his eardrums. There came a rather large inhale through the nostril, like the storm and wind gods enjoined tearing down Storm’s End, and then, the extremely unnecessary exhale and the holding of a single harsh yawning note only matched by the most experienced of singers.

Uncle, Luke hissed in his mind as he white-knuckled his furs. Luke willed himself to close his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He was supposed to be untethering.

Remember the rain, remember the shadows, remember his gratitude at being warm — besides, breathing was a normal exercise and one breath was human, two breaths were unfortunate, and three—

Luke jerked up. Uncle smacked his lips.

“Must you?”

“I know not of what you speak.” Uncle drawled.

Narrowing his eyes, Luke searched Uncle’s face for incriminating evidence, finding nothing but the hint of a smile.

“Stop breathing.”

“I’m afraid that’s a rather impossible request.”

“Try.”

“On my deathbed, mayhap.”

Luke raised an eyebrow and considered the idea. This wasn’t a terrible place to die. Uncle seemed excited about this abode as he had been the one to find it hidden in the leaves. It was a longhouse. The First Men had built them.

“Be quieter than,” Luke said.

He laid back down and adjusted his furs around him. It was hard to get comfortable. The ground was hard, and he felt it trying to leech the warmth from his body. Tomorrow, he’d endeavor to find a better base and build a bigger fire if they were still here in this longhouse.

When it was quiet, Luke found his way back to sleep, relaxing as he felt the comforting weight.

Breath. Louder. Right in his Gods’ flippin’ ear.

Luke opened a single eye and did not hesitate. He lunged with half a scream scrapping his throat. Something burnt hot in the pit of his belly, an exasperated anger, because Uncle insisted on pushing. Always insisted on pushing. Why? He clung to Uncle and every part of his body sang as they twisted and grappled on the floor, the pain of exhaustion and pain pushing them through; their harsh grunts overlapping the rain.

In one quick move, Luke pinned Uncle. His bony wrists fluttered under him. Uncle’s face twisted in fury. His head swam with the tonic of victory. It tasted sweeter than any wine. He laughed at him and felt no remorse because he was still the only one able to get under Uncle’s skin.

It was short-lived.

In another swift move, Luke was beneath Uncle. A single hand on his chest kept him pinned, and no matter how much he squirmed and kicked, he could not be free.

Nineteen was a world away from fifteen. He saw that now.

“Let me go!”

“No,” Uncle said, indifferent to his struggle.

Uncle straddled him.

Luke felt the brunt of Uncle’s weight. The complaint of heaviness was quickly forgotten, awash in uncertainty when Uncle adjusted once more and Luke’s breath hitched.

Panic rose in his chest. Not now. He pressed his lips together. Please, not now. Heat rose on his neck, his cheeks, his ears.

Before this entire mess, Luke dreamt. He had never remembered his dreams in their entirety. He knew of only flashes like Rhaena’s delicate neckline, a servant girl’s breasts, the strong arms of the cook at Dragonstone, and so it went, where in the waking day, he could not focus on much of anyone at Dragonstone lest he be caught staring. He was not ignorant. From Jace, he understood where he could go if he needed relief. He had found a serving girl he liked well-enough to share a few kisses and touches, but he had stopped just short when he thought of Rhaena and his honor to her.

Uncle rocked just once.

And he breathed. Low and heavy. His one iris was black as night. Hightower green flickered in the shadows.

Luke’s pulse jumped.

Uncle’s chilled fingers pushed curls aside, spidering down his cheek to rest at the curve of his jaw. He was ever-changing in Luke’s mind eye. Human, god, and now he was a beast.

Uncle was stronger than he was, the vastness between their strength seemed insurmountable, his hair was a varnished silver and his skin was a bruised apple. Uncle shouldn’t have been so terrifying, but for his large mouth, a glistened gash of red like fire and blood.

His Grandsire Corlys had told Luke of goddesses of the sea. They were taller than any woman with lustrous pearlescent skin and unloose black hair like the murky depths they swam. Grandsire Corlys saw a sea goddess in the Shivering Sea before and he had never been so terrified, so seduced when she had opened her mouth and called to him in the frigid fog. Her voice, he described, was like the sound of ice breaking in a winter lake.

No mortal gifts soothed these goddesses. They wanted only death. Grandsire had survived by stuffing cotton into his ears.

Luke relied on mercy.

“Uncle. Aemond. Please.”

Uncle smelled like sea and salt and fire and rage.

“Please.”

His heart drummed against his breastbone.

Aemond fell to the wayside, pallid and still. Their fingers brushed and Luke suppressed his flinch.

It was still raining outside. The fire crackled in the hearth. Luke stared at the ceiling, the cedar walls, the uneven pebbles, anywhere but Aemond. His heart still beat unsteadily and he was the first one to talk.

“Why did you try to kill me?” Luke asked.

Aemond half-laughed. “Does it matter? Do you hate me?”

Luke’s fingers laced together. They rested on his trembling stomach and he wondered if Aemond heard his uneven breath.

“Hating family is as common as a love match. We have dragon blood and kin slaying is remarkable in how unremarkable it is. But if you were to kill me, I’d thought you would be smarter about the process.”

“How do you mean?”

“My obvious murder would have started a chain reaction. A murder will be met with murder. No, if you wanted me to die, it should have been something that can be construed as natural. Daemon’s wife fell off a horse.”

“Brilliant work.”

Luke did not know about brilliant. He had heard Daemon’s wife was an accomplished rider.

“It got the job done,” he said. His heart refused to steady. Words momentarily fizzled. “I do not consider you the fool. That’s more of Aegon’s role, but sometimes, I think the anger gets the best of you and you’re short-sighted.”

“I do not need a lesson from a bastard.”

“What would my death even accomplish?”

Luke could feel Aemond’s stare burning into him like a brand. He would not give him the satisfaction.

“You’ve always spit on me.”

“How?”

“Your existence.”

Luke closed his eyes. He felt like screaming; he felt like sobbing; he felt tired and raw and terrified. He wondered if he should talk about it. It was the hollow in Aemond’s face; it was the guilt in Luke’s blood and marrow, it was stupid and insignificant and it had happened when they were children.

It wasn’t that.

Luke traced a circle. “Daemon once told me, every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. Will it be madness or greatness?”

Aemond bristled.

Luke bid him goodnight.

#prayer in perfect piety #lucemond #aemond x lucerys #draft #proship #spacing is weird #that’s all I have for this fic #I just wanted it in place I could come back too

[film-in-my-soul]

fics here are outsider pov or mixed ship

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Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#top gun reclist #top gun maveirck reclist #fanfic reclist #reclist #top gun #top gun maverick #tgm

[ethanlvndry]

Ghostface!Wolfstar x fem!black!reader

Notes- This is an alt universe where wizards don't exist. It's just a boring 'ol human world. They, however, are still British in this fiction, but this did stem from the Woodsboro murders. Moony and Pads are both open with their relationship. Everybody envies their bonding tbh. They all suspect nothing from them when the murders started happening. This is a modern AU, so cellphones exist. Art by likeafunerall on ig

Warnings- blood, murder, gore, bloody s*x, Oral m, and f receiving. Crying, dub-con, noncon Padfoot watches his little evil bf enjoy himself. Double Penetration(anal/vaginal, Oral), Anal between Remus, and Siri. slapping, bruising. A whole bunch of dark shit. You get the point.

Summary-You get a text message from Lily, begging you to ditch your studies for one night and come to her boyfriends stupid party. You ended up going before the news would've prevented you from going when they showed another one of those silly costume murders. You end up enjoying your time there...but somethings off. You end up stemming off into a room where you see the unthinkable...

Word count-3.6k

⚠️DARK CONTENT BELOW⚠️

*Ring* Pause. *Ring* Pause. *Ri-*

"I'm still not going."

You say flatly.

" Ughhh, c'mon [Name]! You need to have some fun at least once a week!"

Lily yells into the phone, causing your mouth to upturn into a slight smirk.

"I'm having fun studying for the exam. I know I'll pass tomorrow."

You tease while twirling one of your braids around your freshly done acrylics.

"You always study, c'mon [Name] let's get you out and mingling, maybe you can get yourself a partner"

You laugh at her choice of using a partner to be inclusive to your other side, as the huge but greatly homophobic country of England would describe you.

Don't get confused, Lily, along with the other girls, have been very supportive of your coming about. But even though Dorcas and Mary are in a similar situation to you, they still act confused.

"Yeah, that can wait. I'm not even sure if I'll survive these murders long enough to get a hookup."

You can almost see Lily's scowl as she spoke her next words.

"Please [Name], don't say stuff like that. It isn't funny, nor is it charming."

You feel a pang in your heart as you remember what she felt like after the injury of Severus Snape, her little ex-friend. Even though their friendship had ended a while back. She still had a soft spot for him. Her heart especially broke when the doctors told us that he was lucky he survived.

"Sorry Lil's. That was stupid."

"It's fine, just please be careful. You know we all worry about you living the furthest from all of us. Even the boys!"

You roll your eyes at her naiveness. The only reason why they make it seem that way is because they care about Lily and her feelings. They don't give a shit about you. They ignore you whenever you hang out. And for some reason, that Sirius guy just rubs you the wrong way. He's always looking at you making faces, like he's wondering why you're still with the group or something. You choose to distance yourself from The Marauders and their silly reputation.

The only tolerable one was the one and only Remus Lupin, who just so happened to be Sirius' bf of 2 years. Even though he knew that some of the stuff Sirius did was problematic, he just let it happen. But at least he never joined in on their annoying pranks.

You double take at your study work on the desk, and then think about how going out one night wouldn't be so bad. Yeah, so what Sirius and his minions 'll be there, you're not gonna let some immature human beings the same age as you keep you from having fun.

"You know what, Lily? I think I'll actually go. What should I wear though?"

You should've braced yourself from the excited squeal that broke through the sound barrier and pierced your eardrums.

"Oh my gosh [Name] yes!-"

She began to ramble on how excited she was for you and then quickly went back to your other statement.

"Wait a minute...Did you just ask what to wear when it is LITERALLY THE 31st OF OCTOBER? You're not dense, are ya love?"

You roll your eyes at her sarcastic question and threaten her with not coming, to which she quickly apologizes profusely. You end up asking what everyone is wearing and end up getting an idea of what to wear yourself. You bid your goodbyes so that the both of you could get ready and end up going into a box of a costume you were supposed to wear Halloween. It was a Lola Bunny costume that came out around the time of the recent space jam movie. You decided to pair it with your Jordan's because they were both from the same universe in a way.

As you're getting your stuff ready for your shower, you realize over 20 minutes have passed since you've been looking for a specific pair of panties. The shorts were a little see-through, so you still wanted to match. For some reason, the underwear that you wear the most frequently seemed to be disappearing. However, it wasn't just your favorite pairs. It would be the ones that you wonder why you haven't gotten rid of them.

You finally find a pair that can replace the ones you desired at first and get in the hot steamy shower, as you're rubbing yourself down. You swear it feels like something is watching you. You look out the blinds, covering the frosted glass that would've distorted anything in front or behind it.

"Lemme stop before I scare myself"

You continue on with your shower, still a little uneasy. You dry yourself off, oil your body up, get your costume on, and put your braids in a half up, half down style. You spray yourself with some perfume, brush your teeth, and wash your face. But while you brush your teeth, you realize that your toothbrush looks like it'd been brushed against concrete. Which wasn't out of the ordinary for them to eventually get that, but you've already had it for like 5 days. It's kind of weird...

You finish up and text Lily, who said she's pulling up to your flat. You walk up to her car to see that Marlene is in there with her, her blonde, and pink highlights sticking out immediately

"Hey loves, anymore people to pick up or just us 3?"

You ask.

"We're all set, love."

You nod your head in understanding and start to observe both of their costumes. From what you could see, Lily was red riding hood. Typical redhead. James was no doubt the big bad wolf since they always coordinated their Halloween costumes. Marlene was a witch, and it looked like she bought the broom, especially for this equation, because she never cleans.

Unbeknownst to you, Lily decided to take a shorter way to James' house. And you only noticed that when you see flashing lights, a long with loud booming music.

Lily announces your arrival with an excited tremor, and you all get out, the chilly autumn air blowing right by you three.

"Lil's, I was wondering when you'd get here!"

You hear a voice that you almost instantly recognize.

James Potter.

To your dismay, they get a little handsy in front of you and Marlene, so you decide to leave them and actually join the party. Once inside, you two are almost immediately hit with a wave of drugs, sex, and alcohol.

You see people making out and grinding on eachothers laps. You and Lily decide to go to the punch and see that there are pieces of fruit in it.

"Whoever eats the most fruit wins €50."

Marlene proposes. You both fill up cups of punch first and cling them together, then you guys eat fruit. It was no surprise she got 10 while you got 5. You knew you couldn't handle your liquor, but neither could she.

While you were at your 5th one, Marlene got stuck on her 6th one and told you she was done, you'd taken her cup, and ate the last 4, and won the challenge. Her giving you your money, and you sticking it somewhere safe.

As you 2 are talking and slurring your words, Sirius walks up behind her and sneaks her a hug, instantly taking her attention away. You roll your eyes as they start talking as if you aren't even there, and you end up on the dance floor with a bunch of sweaty bodies, some not even going To 'Hogwarts, Math and Science Academy' As you're enjoying your time dancing, you end up moving your hips to a song by 'The Weeknd' and a boy ends up coming up behind you to dance with you. His hands guide your hips to grind against his crotch. And while looking at him, you can't even lie he looks gorgeous. He looks the perfect amount of feminine and masculine.

You decide to tease him and leave the dance floor, causing him to break out into a smile and shake his head. You both end up in a closet, his hands groping your body. You, however, stop him from continuing.

"Meet me upstairs in a room that has the door closed."

You laugh at his frustrated groan of being denied again.

You make your way into a room. That has posters of bands and instruments in a corner. You decide to take your shoes off and wait for the boy with your legs crossed on the bed. After a while, you start to get worried, but that worry turns into annoyance. If he changed his mind, he could've at least told you. You end up hearing odd noises in another room, like moans, they sound awfully similar to his and you think he's either trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, or he found somebody else to fuck.

You really hope it's the first one. You knock on the door to make sure it isn't somebody else, but you get no answer. Probably because the moans were getting louder. You decide to count to 5 before opening the door.

That was your first mistake.

You walk inside the room, that consist of a made bed, along with professional clothing like button ups, but some band tees lie on the floor.

Remus.

You see that there is a bathroom that connects between Him and Sirius' rooms and end up not taking any precautions to opening the door.

That was your second mistake.

You opened the door and saw the unthinkable. Blood. Everywhere on the floors, the sink, the shower door. And in the middle of it all, 2 people in black cloaks with that stupid costume on, you turn around as they notice you and bolt for the door that you unfortunately decided to close. As you sit your hand on top of the know, you get pulled back by your hair, tears coming out of your eyes, which brings a light chuckle that you would've missed had it not been for the knife pressed to your throat pulling out the smallest trickle of blood causing you to hold your breath.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

You hear the voice say with what was no doubt a voice changer that was used in the Woodsboro murders all those years ago

"Please! I don't even know who you are!"

You beg both killers, the one pointing their knife to you toying with you on purpose.

"You look so pretty when you cry...What a shame I won't be able to fuck you're sweet lil pussy before we kill you."

You see that the one pointing their knife at you seems the more dominant of the 2, the other staying quiet and only paying attention to their partner in crime.

It's embarrassing how fast you thought up of a way to get them to let you go. You can't even deny how you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your nipples poking through the thin shirt and gaining the attention of the 2 killers.

"Wait! Wait! I have an offer for the exchange of you letting me go...Ill give you anythingyou wa-"

Just then, you get a pang in your head, no doubt from those liquor packed fruit pieces.

"Hmmm, what do you think love, is she really worth it, or should we just slit her pretty throat?"

You wince at the thought of that, and wait for them to decide whether not to take you up on the offer.

As you're waiting, you don't notice that the quiet one has a visible tent that is extruding on his cloak.

The other Ghostface does, though, and instantly gets a sadistic idea that would surprise the both of you.

"How about this? My little partner over here takes his mask off, and I blindfold the both of you?"

You were in no room to deny an offer like this, so you agreed with no hesitation.

"Good girl." You can hear this Ghostface's smile through the voice changer.

He digs into one of the drawers and finds a blindfold. You realize that he's been here before if he knows exactly where the blindfolds are. He first walks over to you and stares at you through the black abyss that's placed over his eyes. He surprisingly is gentle, but firm when wrapping the thick cloth over your eyes.

Being depraved of one of your senses causes you to hear stuff better. You can hear the killers speaking in hushed whispers as if they really cared about each other. You could hear a clear moan. The quiet one must've taken his mask off.

You then hear 2 sets of footsteps coming towards you, on instinct you back up, but a tight hand pulling your hair stops you causing you to cry out.

"Behave slut."

You hear the masked on say. You apologize, and he caresses your cheek, giving it a few firm slaps before pushing your head forward into what feels like a belt buckle.

You and the unmasked one both groan, you think he tried to touch you, but his hands were slapped away by the masked one.

"Hands to yourself, baby."

Your head is continuously pushed into the buckle, and then you come to your senses what he wants you to do.

"All you want me to do is suck him off, right?"

You ask, hoping this doesn't lead to you getting your cherry popped by 2 killers simultaneously.

"Mhm, that's all ya have to do love"

The masked one assures you.

You feel his hands reach around your face and start bunching up the fabric, and then you feel both of them working to remove the cloak from the quiet one.

You feel a hand caressing your face, before it's replaced by what you can only assume is the cock of the quiet killer.

You accidentally let out a little moan that causes the masked one to taunt you.

There's a prodding at your lips before you reluctantly open your mouth for his cock

The tip leaks sticky pre, and you hate how you enjoy tasting it. His warm pre ends up, pushing its way down your throat, making you gag at the sudden action.

You reluctantly choose to keep a pace that would me up to his and your standards. At least, you thought so.

You're surprised when he takes your head and pushes you towards one of the walls and starts going to pound town on your poor throat.

"You little vixen, you're really getting off to a murderer's cock ruining your throat?"

You whimper from the words that exit his mouth. You hope he doesn't notice, but your caught off guard by the thick cum that spurts from the killer using your throat.

You sputter as he tauntingly and slowly eases out of your battered mouth.

"Guess that tired the poor thing out, huh Moony?"

The aggressive killer states...wait-MOONY?!

"R-Remus?"

You sputter out weakly.

"In the flesh sweetheart."

You hear chucklees from the other one through his voice changer, and instantly connect it to the one and only, Sirius Orion Black.

You startle slightly as the blindfold around your eyes is loosened, and your eyes adjust to the light being taken in. You see that they both sport their masks again, and feel vulnerable as you see how disheveled the struggle left you. Not that your costume was covering much up in the first place.

"I d-did what you wanted me to do, so now you can let me go..."

You struggle to get out the simple sentence out of fear.

"We aren't done yet."

Remus finally speaks.

They both start to advance on you, throwing you onto the bed, and ripping your cheap costume off, while you squeal out of fear from rough manhandling.

"Please! I won't tell anybody, if you just let me go! I'll even stop hanging around with you guys, I promise!"

They grow tired of hearing your whines and decide to stuff your mouth with cotton panties. But not just any cotton panties...THESE WERE YOUR FAVORITE PAIR!

They went missing back in May, which is super far now that you think about it, which means they've been eyeing you for at least 6 months, which scares you to think about.

Your thinking is cut off by fingers being stuffed in your untainted asshole. You bite down on the panties as soon, as Sirius slips it into the knuckle. You start crying from the pain that weighs less than the constant threat of being murdered.

You hear slight coos coming from the both of them, but decide not to listen too hard. You just wanted to focus on you to make it seem like it wasn't too bad, but then it somehow got worse when you realized your cunt might as well have been drooling from how aroused it was.

Unfortunately, Remus doesn't notice too long after you do, and instantly gets active by closing his lips around your glistening clit. You almost cringe at how pornographic of a moan he let out. Shit, you'd expect that from Sirius maybe, but Remus?

You're brought back to Sirius when he slips 3 of his fingers out of your prepped hole, and watch as he sucks them like his favorite sweet. Don't ask how you know. You just do.

You begin to buck your hips into Remus' face as he sucks harder and harder, hoping you squirt all over his face. His mask continues to scrape over your skin as he goes in on your dripping cunt. You tear up at the blood that has since then dried all over your skin, creating a sticky mess that makes you feel guilty about the guy you met.

"You know, we've always wanted to have you to ourselves. You were always confident in the way you talked, and the way you dressed. You just never would give us a chance, it was like you hated us, love."

You almost roll your eyes at the gaslighting Sirius' attempts to do, but you choose to just look up and prepare yourself for the rest of their abuse.

Remus stops sucking on your cunt just as you're about to come, making you reluctantly let out a whine that has both of them chuckling amongst each other, and you blushing at the vulnerabiltiy you showed. But you seem to forget how vulnerable you are when you're exposed like an animal in the wild.

"Cunt or her ass Moony?"

Sirius asks his lover. He situates himself after Remus chooses the former, and tucks his robe so that his bottom half is free, leaving the cloak to drape a little bit. He then lets Remus hold you while he gets his lap ready for you, and steadily sinks your ass down onto his cock making you whine at the expected, but unprepared for intrusion, Even though he used his fingers, he was still so long. You feel a slight weight on your clit, and look back to see Remus lining his thick cock up with your unprepared hole. You try and speak but it comes out muffled from your stuffed mouth.

"No!-Pweth, I cont tek et!" You try and tell him, but he only laughs at your words and continues to breach your poor cunny. You cry as they both alternate their thrusts, one going in, the other going out. Sirius takes his mask off, followed by Remus, as they both pant speeding up their pace. You're left to whine and beg for mercy as they both use you like you aren't even a person. You're embarrassed to admit how fast you came on Remus' cock, but you quickly realize that they both won't stop until they finish.

You find yourself being purposely overstimulated by Sirius, as his nude hand reaches down to stab at your swollen clit while Remus continues his assault on your poor hole. Leading you to squint all over Remus' lover stomach, and drip down onto the soaked sheets that now sport a grey color, instead of the silk white it was once. You feel both of them finish inside of your holes, but are startled when they start switching positions right after their highs disipitate.

They communicate through short curt words, and you find yourself on all fours with Sirius situated behind you, and Remus situated behind Sirius. They simultaneously line their cocks up with their targets, and both sink in at the same time making all 3 of you let out loud moans.

Remus maintains a steady pace, while Sirius prefers to go as fast as his hips can take him, making him the first to finish, which leaves you, and Remus. Remus continues using Sirius' hole, while Sirius is riding his high out inside of you, but he pulls out and hurrying over to your face, and pulls your panties out of your mouth, to unexpectadely shove his cock down your throat once again, causing you to choke and whine at how much you've been used this night. He only uses your throat for a few seconds before he pulls out and comes all over your face, getting some especially in your mouth. You hold it before he reaches in and presses down on your tongue, forcing you to swallow his seed. He and Sirius crach down at the top of the bed together, while you've sunk into the mattress by the foot of the bed. You try and get up to get away, but you're stopped by 2 pairs of hands pulling you towards the connecting bodies.

"Where do you think you're going? We haven't even decided if we wanna keep you alive or not."

Sirius questions, you open your mouth to answer him but end up bursting into tears, and you just lay your head down on the both of them to drift off to anything, but a restful sleep.

___________________________________________

My fanfic after almost a year of no writing, that writers block really hit me hard, but I honestly feel it coming again. I actually started writing this fic in october, and it was supposed to come out halloween night, but I was too lazy.

Please let me know if I've made any mistakes, and I hope you enjoyed!

Likes, Reblogs, and comments are encouraged and appreciated!

#sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #ghostface x reader #remus lupin smut #remus x sirius #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #remus lupin x reader #tw noncon #sirius black x black!reader #Remus Lupin x black!reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader

[practically-an-x-man]

Gazooks! There's been a lab breach, and the zombie apocalypse is upon us! Which of your OCs are surviving?

Oooooh fantastic question!

(fun fact one of my little brain games when I'm bored and waiting somewhere is to imagine how good the building I'm currently in would be as a bunker in the zombie apocalypse. I've concluded that a movie theatre would make a fantastic home base and I could tell you why but that's a separate post)

Rae: Oh she's making it through. She's smart, well-versed in multiple languages and travel (i.e. less language barrier with other survivors and she won't get stuck to a place bc of sentimental value), and she has her shields to protect her from the zombies themselves. She's golden.

Robin: Would last a good long while, she's smart and resourceful, but sound-based powers aren't as useful against the undead. Breaking their eardrums with a sonic shriek deafens them, but it's not painful like it would be to a human. Not to mention, she's still got the handicap of being deaf. She can use her ability as a hearing aid, but she's still more likely to be snuck up on. My verdict? She'll survive just fine in a group, but wouldn't do as well alone since inevitably there'd be a rogue zombie that sneaks up on her.

Madison: Disappears into the wilderness and only emerges once the apocalypse is over (or... as over as it can be). She's just fine. Her one concern would be if Alex or someone close to her got bitten, since that would hit her hard, but from a pure survival aspect she'd do just fine.

Ophelia: Would struggle with the fact that her technology's shot (either by a classic apocalypse EMP or simply because the people running the cell towers and power stations are now zombified), but would make herself a bunker with all kinds of MacGyvered traps to protect her from the outside world. She'd be your stereotypical "antisocial but wickedly clever hermit scientist" character

Jasper: Look, I'm sorry, Jasper's so done. For one thing, they live in a very crowded city (New Orleans). For another, they'd get incapacitated by their empathic abilities so fast. Imagine it: the already-overwhelming battery of emotions suddenly becoming mangled and warped by the undead, the emotions too sharp and too angry and just not right all around them? Maybe they could survive if Kyle takes the lead (he already got brought back to life once, he can't exactly be turned into a zombie) but other than that they're sunk.

Quinn: I love Quinn very much, but she's very very dead. Her skillset is brilliant in the living world. She's clever, quick-witted, and can disappear into a crowd like it's nothing. But she can't run, and she's used to living in cities (crowded places, with few survival skills needed). If she finds a colony, she could maybe get by as a medic, since she's stitched so many wounds back in their old crew, but that implies she's got the good fortune to escape the immediate horde.

Kestrel: Very much depends. On the one hand, their shapeshifting means they can fly over battles as they crop up, and largely avoid the worst of the fighting. But on the other hand, their main defenses come from shapeshifting into a more powerful animal... and powerful animals can still get bitten. If any one of those zombies manages to nick an elephant's hide, or draw a bit of blood when Kestrel's fighting them off as a bear... they're done for.

Katherine: Dead. Sorry. She's got magic and that's great, but she just doesn't have enough hard survival skills to make it through. She's an artist, for crying out loud.

Eris: Would slaughter hordes of zombies and grin while they did it. He'd probably bring about the end of the apocalypse single-handedly, just because they're such perfect fodder for a good fight. The only problem would be if something happened to Rick - Eris can't get zombified since they're a metahuman, but he's always been the chink in their armor.

Nikoletta: Is more accustomed to social survival than true survival, and would probably struggle a bit in the early days. The good news is that she knows how to scrounge for food and shelter, and she can disappear into the shadows to avoid a zombie fight. But once she made it into that first rough patch, she'd come into her stride and end up not only surviving, but becoming the lead of her own survivalist colony.

#my friends!!! #answered asks #my ocs #madison douglas #ophelia octavius #jasper wilson #oc quinn/aces #rae mckinney #robin cassidy #oc kestrel #oc katherine johnson #oc eris #nikoletta bordeaux

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT/FEDERATION MAGAZINE: OCTOBER 2011

SMACKDOWN Q+A

The LOCKSMITH

Daniel Bryan submits to our most probing questions, and reveals the secrets to surviving a detached retina, escaping deportation and starting a catchy crowd chant.

BY JOHN MIHALY PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIUS BUGGE

Your submission maneuver rarely fails to make foes tap out. Think it might be time to re-name your version of the LeBell Lock to something a little more Daniel Bryan-centric?

No. I like referring to people who’ve built this industry. There’s not enough of the history out there anymore. It’s like all of that’s been pulled back. So I hope to continue calling it the LeBell Lock. That said, I am a submissions expert, and I certainly have more than one submission maneuver in my arsenal. You’ll be seeing more of them very soon.

Compared to the ups and downs of 2010, this year has been a huge success for you, culminating with your Money In The Bank win. Did your first year in WWE teach you anything that the Indies never could?

Just that you have to adapt to every environment you’re in..but I’ve been doing that my whole career. I never expected to be fired and then rehired two months later. I certainly didn't expect to become the U.S. Champion so quickly after I was rehired. Wrestling here is no different from wrestling in Japan for the first time: You have to get your bearings, and you have to wrestle that style. Here, you have to adapt to things like live televised matches.

What’s the one biggest sacrifice you made during your journey to WWE?

That’s hard to say. But one thing I definitely hope will never happen again is losing hearing in one of my ears. I ruptured my eardrum, but I never got it fixed. That’s something that can be easily fixed, but as an independent wrestler, you can’t take time off, so I just kept going. Plus I can barely see out of one eye because I detached my retina back in 2007.

Sounds painful! But no worse than spending time with The Miz. Did you know that you actually have something in common with your former WWE NXT “mentor”? You’ve both been hosed out of a match at WrestleMania.

How did you react when you were bumped off the card at The Show of Shows?

I go with the flow with a lot of things. Obviously, it was upsetting. Nobody told us beforehand or pulled us aside and said, “Listen guys, we’re sorry.” That was the most disappointing thing. And of course, I wanted that ‘Mania moment. You’re not going get it in a pre-show match. But, once I slept in the trunk of my car, so it wasn’t the end of the world. 

You collect vinyl records, you don’t own a TV, and you spend a lot of time reading. Is it safe to call you “The Lo-Fi Superstar”?

Well, there’s just so much mental pollution out there. I was rooming with a fellow Superstar, who will remain anonymous. He was watching TV and said, “Aw, there’s nothing on.” So he tossed me the remote. So what did I do? I turned off the TV. He complained, “Why are you turning it off? What are we going to do? Just sit here in this silence?” I said, “Yes, yes we are.”

No TV, no alcohol, no meat…what vices do you have, other than making opponents tap out?

That’s a loaded question. Maybe I think too much. It makes it hard for me to sleep. William Regal always likes to say, “Once you don’t start sleeping, then the carnival starts.” I don't have a lot of vices, per se. I have a very clear mind, and I fall asleep very easily at night. It’s staying asleep that’s the problem. Once I'm awake that first time, I'm done. 

What’s a tasty vegan dish that every nose-in-the-air omnivore should try?

There are so many. My favorite place to eat is the Red Velvet Cafe in Las Vegas. It’s got regular food, it’s got vegetarian food, and it’s got vegan food. Anything that’s on the menu they can make vegan or vegetarian. Their namesake, the red velvet cake, is a cupcake that’s vegan. I’ve given it to nonvegans and they say it’s the best red velvet cake they’ve ever had. It’s unreal. They tell me it's only 180 calories. I don't buy it for a second, because you pick it up and it’s so dense, but then you think, “Well, the stuff in here isn’t made with cow fat,” so maybe it’s true. 

You might be the most positive Superstar in WWE, as far as dealing with the daily grind goes. How do you keep your head up while on the road 200-plus days per year?

In WWE, it’s very easy for people to say, “Oh, this sucks” or, “Oh, I'm beat up.” In the Indies, you’re also beat up. You’re just making a lot less money. If you’ve been wrestling in the Indies for 10 years and you get here, nothing seems bad. I’ve had to literally sleep outside of a door because I was locked out of the place where I was staying in England. I've been deported. I was going from Japan to England and I didn't have a work permit, so when I got to England, they said, “We have to deport you back to Japan because that’s where you came from.” I said, “Going back to Japan does me no good, because then I don't have a work permit to get in there, either.” So I had to pay for a flight back to Los Angeles. But in the meantime, they stuck me in this room with all these other people being deported. They asked me, “Where are you from?” I said, “I’m an American.” And then they said, “Oh, you should have lied, man.” It was kind of scary. I was stuck in Heathrow Airport for 24 hours.

Lastly, your followers were infamous for delivering a rather un-PG chant whenever you entered the ring. Any less crude chants you might suggest they shout out these days?

“You’re going to get your freakin’ head kicked in!” It’s based on a British soccer chant. They have the best chants. It’s just one of those things I heard and I thought, “I’m going to try and get this started at a wrestling show” And I did. People were having a hard time with the beat, but eventually they got it. Once it came out on DVD it just spread. It’s funny how things spread so quickly. Have you read that book, The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell? It gives a really good explanation about how things just like that chant gain popularity. Give it a read. 

#bryan danielson #Daniel Bryan #what a freak #magazine scan #magazine transcript #i love/want her

[shiorishiorishiori]

Fuck Em Only We Know

Pairing ⇿ Nanami Kento x OC

Summary ⇿ Nakahari Shiori's life is a balancing act between keeping the Kamo clan off her back and living a semi-normal life as a nurse at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When her stoic co-worker and friend, Nanami Kento, calls for help after a dangerous encounter with a special grade curse spirit, their friendship grows into something outside of their control. As they navigate a life dedicated to protecting humanity, their connection deepens, and the lines of their easy-going friendship blur. Will their newfound feelings survive the dangers that lurk in the shadows?

Tags/Warnings ⇿ Romance, Smut, Canon Divergence AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Soft Nanami Kento, Fluff, Angst, Cursing

Genre ⇿ Friends to Lovers, Nanami x OC

Word Count ⇿ 3.5K words/42.2K words

Chapter One: Little Bit

The setting sun cast a cool glow on Ginza, dappling the sidewalk with the shadows of strolling shoppers and rustling fall leaves. Nakahari Shiori wandered among the vibrant display windows, humming along to the conflicting soundtrack of her bank account screaming for mercy and her wardrobe begging for new additions. 

Sunglasses, shoes, and skirts whispered her name through the glass, and maybe, just maybe she’d finally ball out on the designer bag that finally graced the Japanese market. Sure, jet-setting to New York City or Milan for fashion conquests was all well and good, but her current gig as the resident nurse of Tokyo Jujutsu High had a nasty habit of keeping her firmly planted on Japanese soil. Principal Yaga and the higher-ups preferred Shiori to tend to scraped knees and teenage angst, rather than indulge in her dreams of rubbing elbows with designers at runway shows, and her lack of vacation days proved it. 

So maybe this once, she could indulge. After all, exorcising curses wasn't exactly a low-stress job, and retail therapy was practically a medical necessity in her line of work.

Just as Shiori's self-justification for another shopping spree reached its peak, her phone buzzed, cutting through her thoughts. Groaning, she juggled the overflowing shopping bags draped in her arms. Was it Shoko again, calling with another favor from the morgue? Her workday was long done, and the last thing she needed was more unexpected duties. 

But it wasn’t Shoko’s name that flashed on the screen. Instead, it was the face of the blonde sorcerer whose definition of “fun” was deciphering financial trends in the newspaper’s stock market pages.

A smile, genuine and unguarded, bloomed on Shiori's lips as she answered the call. “Nanami! What’s up? You don’t usually call—” 

The voice on the other line wasn't the usual melodic lilt of Nanami Kento, but a grating rasp like sandpaper against bone.

"Shiori," Nanami choked out, each syllable scraping against her eardrums. “Where… are you right now?” 

Shiori whipped her head around, scanning the bustling street for some landmark, any clue. Panic tightened her throat, squeezing out the playful greeting that had died on her lips. "I'm… in Ginza," she sputtered out, "but forget that—are you okay?"

“I fought a curse spirit and I’m injured. I need your assistance… Please.” 

Something sharp and cold twisted in Shiori's stomach. Nanami, the lone wolf who'd sooner eat his own cursed tool than ask for help, was begging? What alternative reality had she found herself in?

“I’m not dying, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Yeah, right. 

Shiori's casual stroll came to a screeching halt, replaced by a mad dash towards her car. She didn’t care about the dropped bags and judging stares she received from bewildered pedestrians on the packed sidewalks. Politeness was the last thing on her mind when lives were on the line, especially lives as stubborn as Nanami’s. He wouldn’t call for help unless he was hanging by a thread thinner than his chances of finding a decent date. 

“That’s definitely what someone who’s going to die would say, Nanami! Fuck—I’m on my way!” 

Meanwhile, Nanami steadied himself against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom where he sought refuge. His encounter with an unregistered special grade curse spirit hadn’t gone favorably... He winced as he pressed another balled up towel against his leaking wound. 

Sweat beaded his forehead, face pale with exhaustion, but he caught the corners of his mouth tugging in the mirror’s reflection. “I haven’t even sent you the location yet…” He half expected her to explode in a flurry of curse words and panic, but Shiori rarely operated in the way he expected. “I’m sending it over now.”

She launched her bags into the backseat and cranked the engine. The text landed on her phone as she peeled into traffic, tires screeching their protest. “Just hold on for me, please!”

*---* 

  The address blurred past Shiori in a frenzy of flashing signs and honking horns. She couldn't help but imagine Gojo's admiration of her driving finesse, while Nanami’s scowl would have melted the asphalt, but right now, her heart echoed the pounding of the engine. Every traffic light felt like an eternity, every stop sign an insult. 

Reaching the destination, she abandoned the car without a care for parking etiquette. She sprinted into the quiet street that offered no signs of the epic clash her imagination conjured up: no cratered pavement, no fallen debris. But, wisps of Nanami’s curse energy brushed against her senses. Unease gnawed at her, but she followed the trace, her instincts drawing her towards a secluded side entrance. 

The unmistakable tang of iron hit her nostrils when she pushed into the office building. The trail, faint but unmistakable, led like a crimson arrow to the men's restroom door. Without hesitation, she flung it open, bracing for the aftermath.

“Nanami!” 

The cry tore from Shiori's throat, an unchecked mix of fear and relief that echoed in the small bathroom. Nanami’s body sagged against the sink, his blue shirt dyed in crimson blotches. The unbuttoned shirt was a direct view into the wound that marred his torso. Bloodstained and ragged, it stood out against his pale skin, a jarring contrast to his normally meticulous appearance. His once pristine suit jacket laid crumpled on the counter, a casualty of the fight, and his silk tie hung loosely around his neck. 

Shiori rushed to his side. “Please, let me help,” she said, her voice tight with concern, her hands already moving to apply pressure to the wound. “God, there’s so much blood—what happened?” 

He winced at her touch, but explained in a raspy voice: “Just a nasty encounter with a special grade. It tried to… reshape my soul.” 

Her brows slanted in justifiable confusion. “Reshape your soul? What does that mean?” 

"I'm not entirely sure myself. I need to gather more intel… Just know that I won’t be caught off guard again.” 

Shiori pursed her lips, sighing before forcing a smile. "Well, shout-outs to you for surviving the fight with your soul intact," she quipped, gingerly peeling back the makeshift bandage. The wound beneath was a gash, wide as her hand and deep enough to cause serious harm. "Good thing too, because if you die, who would suffer the brunt of Gojo’s bullying? I can’t handle that kind of torture on my own.” She smiled up at the blonde, already anticipating the trademark Nanami eye-roll.

As expected, his eyes darted upwards in a flick of annoyance before giving in to a begrudging roll. "Whatever,” he grumbled. She grinned, victorious. “Do you think you can stop the bleeding?” 

"Always," she replied, her smile softened. “Brace yourself though, it’ll hurt… Let me know if it’s too much.” 

The heat of Shiori's curse energy surged around the wound. He watched her through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way her fingers danced across the raw flesh with delicate precision. The pain receded, replaced by a strange warmth that spread beyond the wound's edges. He couldn't help but wonder if it was just the healing, or if something more seeped through her touch. It felt...comforting, almost intimate. 

The wayward thought vanished from his mind as quickly as it rudely entered, chased away by the sting of reality. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, craving solace from an attractive woman's touch? Years had passed since he'd known the simple comfort of companionship, unburdened by the weight of the sorcerer world. 

He chalked it up to blood loss, a trick of the mind. He couldn't afford to jeopardize their decade-long friendship with fleeting thoughts and messy emotions. It was against his principles to mix personal emotions with the workplace… But, a small, persistent voice echoed in the quiet corners of his mind, whispering about Shiori.

The memory of their first meeting still burned sharp in his mind. He could picture her arrival at the shared classroom with Haibara, wearing her confidence like a second skin. Her bronze skin seemed to glow in the light, her black curly hair bounced with every step, and her smile had the power to melt the coldest winters. He couldn't deny that he had an affinity for girls with easy smiles like hers. And as he got to know her, he found comfort in that smile during dark times. 

Their lives were tough, but there were many happy moments in spite of all the bad. Many of those moments would be incomplete without Shiori. From celebrating their small victories over convenience store bread as teenagers to enjoying a night out with a pint (or seven) at a bar as adults, she possessed the ability to make him feel understood in a world that couldn’t care less. Her passion for nurturing young sorcerers shone brightly, and despite himself, he occasionally (only occasionally) found her corny jokes amusing.

Nanami had always been a man of rigid self-control, but being around Shiori like this was… uncomfortable. There were too many moments he caught himself stealing glances at her. He couldn’t help but admire the graceful dip of her neck, sparking the desire to trace the space between her shoulders with his fingers. Her lips, with their natural pout, and the way they moved could spin him into a trance. Even her work attire, somehow emphasizing her figure, became a distraction. Silencing the insistent voice begging for more than friendship was an exhausting battle.

“There!” Shiori beamed, her smile blooming like a sunflower as she surveyed her handiwork. The wound on Nanami's torso, once a jagged tear that ripped his skin, was now a crimson line, edges sealed with intricate patterns only she could weave. The Kamo clan’s blood manipulation technique, a rarity that appeared once every few generations, allowed her to coax the life force back into its rightful place. Years of training and countless battles honed her skill of easing pain and stitching torn flesh together with the invisible thread of her technique. 

"Thank you, Shiori," he praised, his gaze lingering on her face longer than necessary.

Shiori fumbled over her words. “A-ah, it’s nothing, Nanami. You would do the same for me,” she managed, eyes locking with his brown ones. He nodded in agreement. An unspoken understanding and a strong bond had developed between them over the years, having been former classmates and now co-workers. “Also, don’t thank me, yet. The bleeding is stopped, but I’m not done. We should still dress the wound to prevent infection.”

She reached into her bag, pulling out gauze and bandages. Nanami reached out to take them from her, insisting, "I’ll finish it from here,” with his usual deep voice, nowhere near as strained as it was moments prior. 

“No. I’ll do it.”

“I’m capable of dressing my own wounds—”

“You didn’t call me here to do a half-ass job." Taking a deep breath, she forced her voice into the firm, no-nonsense tone that often met with grudging obedience from her students. "You’re getting the entire experience.” 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a rare indulgence. “You're a stubborn one, aren't you?”

The playful jab made her cheeks warm. "Learned from the best," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Her fingers, usually steady with years of practice, trembled as she worked, acutely aware of his eyes fixed on her. As she moved across his skin, she could feel the faint, rhythmic pulse of his blood beneath the surface, a reminder of her curse technique. The realization that she could control the very essence of life within his veins, something so inherently intimate, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through her. 

Touching Nanami was already nerve-wracking under normal circumstances. And, now the added pressure only made her more aware of the feelings he brought out of her. His skin felt warm to the touch, radiating a comforting heat that made her stomach flutter. His skin was soft, contrasting with the firm, athletic build that lay beneath. As she skillfully wound the bandage, the realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. She had noticed the results of his recent dedication at the gym, but the idea that she could now feel those results under her fingertips stirred something in her core. 

Nanami's heavy gaze branded her skin. Every brush of her fingers against his skin sent a tremor through her, her touch lingering a fraction longer than professionalism demanded. “All done…” She announced, her voice betraying her confidence as she put some much needed space between herself and the blonde sorcerer. 

She needed a moment to regain clarity in the midst of her conflicting emotions. After all, Nanami was just a friend, and she couldn't afford to indulge in fantasies about the same guy who once pretended he hadn’t been crying to MCR songs in high school. 

Nanami pushed himself off the sink, eyes scanning the bandaged wound in the mirror. "You did a good job."

Nanami wasn’t a man of many compliments, so she relished in the rarity. Still bashful, still trying to regain her composure, she defaulted to humor to save her skin. "I'm a saint, I know. There’s no need to thank me." 

"Saints still deserve recognition," he countered, his tone carrying the warmth that filled her mind with confusing thoughts. "Is there anything I can do for you in return?"

"Not a thing! I did this out of the kindness of my heart, Nanami. Unless…" she drawled, a teasing glint in her eyes. "... that dinner you mentioned a few weeks back is still on the table?"

"Ah, I see. You're looking for a free meal."

She batted her eyelashes, mock innocence radiating from her. "Me? Never! But since I rushed over here, in record time I might add, to offer you my services, and considering the nearby shops are likely closed by now..." she trailed off, catching his gaze. “I’m free to have a nice dinner with my favorite colleague.” 

Nanami rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile betraying his amusement. The awkward tension seemed to melt away, replaced by their familiar banter. "How convenient."

"Conveniently delicious, you mean," Shiori countered, eyes still twinkling. "There's this new sushi place nearby I've been dying to try! I’ve heard great things about their food and their sake selection. Unless, of course, you’re craving something else?” 

Nanami contemplated her question while wiping his blood from the counter. “No, sushi sounds nice. I trust your opinion—” Shiori’s exaggerated grasp cut him off, her hand flying to her chest to clutch an imaginary set of pearls. 

“Is that three compliments in one night, Nanami? I may need to start saving you more often if this is the reward!”

He stared at her through slanted eyes before exiting the bathroom, seeing no issue with leaving her behind for her 'jokes'. “You better watch out, you’re turning into Gojo.”

She giggled into her palm, falling in step. “Oh God, ok, I’ll be more careful. I don’t think the world can handle two of those.” 

*---*

Shiori waited patiently as Nanami emerged from his office, a fresh shirt replacing the bloodstained one. He walked towards her, a determined set to his jaw that softened slightly as his eyes met hers. Without a word, he held up his car keys.

“You’re the chauffeur tonight?”

“I have to make sure that my colleague gets home safely.”

Nanami's insistence on driving snagged Shiori's attention as they made their way to the restaurant. Was it a typical-Nanami chivalrous act, or was there something more brewing beneath the surface? Curiosity tickled the edges of her mind. 

“Do you do this for all of your dates, Nanamin?” Shiori teased. He held out her chair when they arrived at the restaurant, waiting for her to settle in. Not only that, he made it his job to open every door they greeted on their way inside.

Nanami smoothly tucked her chair in before taking his own seat, his usual stoic demeanor undisturbed. “Only for the exceptional ones.” 

“I should feel honored, then.” 

“You should.”

Shiori’s cheeks flushed. Her mind lit up with too many unanswered questions: Was the sake she hadn’t even ordered yet, already messing with her mind? Did he have any idea how easily he flustered her? And why did he choose such a distant seat away from her? 

She blinked. 

What the hell was she going on about? 

She lassoed her wild thoughts back to calmer territory, burying her nose in the menu as a distraction. “What do you think about starting this ‘not-a-date’ with a bottle of sake?” 

Nanami lowered his menu and glanced at her from across the table. “Heading right into it?” 

“Absolutely! Besides, you look like you could use a drink.” Nanami sighed in agreement. Their ‘not-a-date’ outings always turned boozy, and there was no reason to break their streak tonight. 

Yet, despite being off the clock, his thoughts clung to his work responsibilities. There was a high likelihood that the special grade curse spirit he encountered survived the cave-in. Tracking it down again would be an absolute pain in the ass, especially with its ability to completely disfigure its victims. He made a mental note to set up a meeting with Yaga to debrief on his findings… and failures.

“Let’s do it.” He conceded, pushing the work thoughts out of the window of his mind. 

Anticipation bloomed on Shiori’s face when the waiter scribbled down their lengthy order and returned with a flourish of colorful dishes. Just as Nanami’s hands graced his chopsticks, a playful tap bounced his hand away. 

“Traditions still matter, Nanami!” She teased, a grin dancing on her lips. 

“Of course, of course,” he echoed with a head shake. “How could I forget?” 

She whipped her phone out, the camera hungry to capture their feast from every angle. Click, click, click. Every picture perfect plate was added to their ever-growing album of ‘not-a-date’ food adventures. Their collection had grown with snapshots from bakery runs, Nanami's culinary creations, and visits to new restaurants over the years.

“Now you can eat,” she commanded, a playful glint in her eyes. She couldn’t miss Nanami’s signature eye roll before indulging in the nigiri. 

“The camera shouldn’t eat first, Shiori. It’s a bad habit.” 

“How else are we going to remember what we like about this place if we don’t have photographic proof?” 

“By simply enjoying the food."

Her giggles filled the table, the sound warm and bubbly. “Says the guy who took over a thousand pictures of his grilled fish the other day.” 

“That was different,” he cleared his throat, trying to swallow down a contagious chuckle. “I made that myself—It was special.” 

“Well…” She trailed off, hoping to steady the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “This is special to me, too.” Her whisper was drowned out by the restaurant’s lively hum, but Nanami caught the tail end of her shy smile. 

No, it must have been a trick of the light.

The remainder of the evening melted with good food and even greater sake as they exchanged stories about their day. Amidst clinking glasses and laughter, their conversation danced through the day's events. Nanami delved into mentoring Itadori Yuji, Sukuna's vessel. The King of Curses' appearance caused a great shift in the sorcerer world and its full effects were still to be seen, but despite the challenges, Nanami spoke warmly of the young man.

Shiori, in turn, painted a vibrant picture of her day: researching the disfigured corpses that flooded the morgue, prepping for the Sister School Goodwill event, and indulging in some retail therapy in Ginza. 

As the night wound down, Nanami escorted Shiori to her doorstep. “Thank you again for helping me, Shiori.” 

“Hey,” she playfully nudged him in the arm. “You’ve got to stop thanking me! This praise is going straight to my head.”

“You’re right. We wouldn’t want your head to get any bigger.” 

Shiori’s laughter filled the air as they stood on her porch. “God, you can be so rude, Na-na-min.” She slurred, drawing out each syllable on her lips as she locked onto his dark eyes under the dim lights. 

He could feel his eyes retreating to the back of his skull. “You and Gojo with that stupid name. I already let you off the hook once tonight.” 

Blaming the liquid courage coursing through her blood stream, Shiori leaned in closer and with a low, teasing tone, and asked: “What would you like me to call you?” 

Nanami’s resolve was called into question for the umpteenth time for the night. 

She was so close that Nanami could feel the heat radiating from her small frame, mingling with the lavender scent of her perfume. He immediately focused on her lips, fighting the sweet temptation of what could be on the other side of all this flirtation and into something more intimate. Something worthwhile.

When he finally found his voice, it was barely a whisper. “Kento.” 

He had every intention to sound more confident, but his heart was racing in his chest. The small voice that pined for Shiori was dominating his mind with visions of her sprawled on his bed, calling out his name while he tasted every square inch of her. 

“Thank you for dinner...” She pulled away, inserting her keys into the front door as their night came to an end. “Kento."

Nanami could only nod, his mind still clouded with the enticing visions of what could be. As Shiori disappeared into her home, he whispered, "Good night, Shiori," knowing that they were inching deeper into dangerous territory. 

With every passing touch, with every stolen look, they were venturing further into the abyss that threatened to upend the delicate balance of their friendship. 

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[hoodedchishiya]

It’s that dreaded time of the week again..

Karaoke at the Beach.

Time to find my earplugs I guess.. especially if Kuina gets up on the mic and belts out ‘I will survive.’ Again.

Wish me luck and maybe my eardrums won’t burst.

~Chishiya ♦️

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