#And that they can’t like hear your heart beating chest rising up and down..Ignore all of that

[valeriele3]

TWST x Reader who falls into a long sleep randomly once in a while

It was just a normal day in NRC or well..As normal as it can be

Everything is good, life is good, not that stressful

But then, slowly everyone started noticing how the Prefect and their little cat(Grimm) has been missing the entire day..

Panic soon arises in the school grounds and almost everyone in the school looking for their dear prefect(and cat)

A whole day passes with no sign of them..Then a week, a month, and almost 2 months

Everyone is starting to loose hope. What happened to them? Did they get hurt? Are they safe? Did they leave? Are they back to their original world? If so, why didn’t they say goodbye..? Were they really that unimportant to them?

It was another day of looking for prefect. They all decided to search again in the city and the nearby forest with another plan to meet up in the plaza at 8pm to report their findings

The clock strikes 8 and again, no news..But wait, one group is missing. The Adeuce is missing

Then suddenly, they all heard someone scream “Y/N! I FOUND THEM THEYRE DEAD!”

Panic, shock, horror, sadness, and anger is all they feel..They quickly rush to the area where they heard Ace scream

Once there, they find Deuce standing and crying, regret for not being with them in his eyes, Ace crying hysterically while holding onto a “dead” Y/N

——————————————

After everything was set, it was finally time for Y/N’s funeral..Some expressed their sadness and the others tried to hide it to keep up a front and look unbothered

They were just about to bury them when suddenly..The casket is making pounding noises? And someone screaming..Something like “Hello? Where am I?!! Is someone there!”

“Oh I can still hear their voice..” Deuce said sadly

“Same..” Ace replied

“Wait guys— Stop I think the prefect really is alive..!—“ Someone in the crowd said worriedly

The top/cover of the casket gets destroyed by Readers fists and they sit up still a bit sleepy

Everyone is shocked. Did the prefect just come back to life??

After a bit of celebrating and etc they asked Y/N who killed them and the prefect answers with “I was never dead. I was just asleep” they smile brightly

‘Asleep?? What human sleeps for that long?!’ The guys think

“I have this thing that I don’t really know but I randomly fall asleep once in awhile. It only lasts for a few hours or a day if I’m lucky but if it’s severe for some reason it’ll last for a few weeks or months!”

“Oh”

And everyone starts celebrating the return of the prefect again

~The End~

——————————————

“By the way guys..Where’s Grim?”

——————————————

[whytheylosttheirminds]

espresso - rafe cameron

summary: Rafe met you a few weeks ago and he hasn't slept a wink since. You, however, have never slept better.

content: straight up smut, 18+ minors do not interact!!

You sink into your bed, the cool, crisp sheets feeling amazing against your freshly lotioned skin. Your laptop plays your favorite episode of your favorite show, the one you’ve watched so many times it’s like white noise. How do you sleep at night? Really fucking well.

Just as you begin to drift into a sea of pleasant dreams, your phone buzzes violently on the nightstand, lighting up your room. You groan at the interruption, squinting in the harsh screen light as you check to see who’s calling. The contact reads: 'tall blond (island club??)'. 

“Yes?” You mumble, answering the phone mid-yawn.

“Where are you?” His deep voice practically growls.

“Busy,” you lie.

“Doin’ what?” He tries to sound annoyed, but can’t hide the jealous curiosity.

“None of your business,” you taunt him.

“Can I come over?”

“Maybe I already have someone here,” you laugh.

“Y/n please don’t fuck with me, I need to see you, now.” You’ll never let him know the intensity in his voice makes you clench your legs together, getting wet imagining how desperate he must look right now.

“You can come over, but the door’s locked and I don’t feel like getting up,” you say, adding in another yawn to try to maintain your dismissive tone.

A loud TAP TAP TAP on your bedroom window makes you jump. You sit still in bed for a minute, heart beating with fear. Then, through the phone and the window, you hear his voice, “I already tried the door.”

Your stomach does somersaults as you pad over to the window in your tank top and plaid pajama shorts, opening the curtain to see him crouched at your window, phone still to his ear, having climbed onto the roof to get to you. He doesn’t smile, just looks you up and down with ravenous eyes. You suppress an arrogant smile. This boy is down bad. 

“I told you I’m busy,” you say into the phone. 

He hangs up on you and raises his voice so you can hear him through the window, “y/n, let me in right now or I’ll break this fucking window.”

You roll your eyes and lean forward towards the glass, purposefully pushing your cleavage together and loving the way he watches like he wants to consume you whole.

“You’re so dramatic,” you mouth to him through the glass.

Ignoring your taunt, he starts trying to pry open the window, shaking it so hard, you think he might actually just break through the lock and get it open.

“Okay, relaaaax,” you laugh, unlocking the window so he can pull it up. He’s in it so quickly, hands immediately all over you as you stand in the middle of your room. 

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically as he locks his lips to your neck, hands on your ass, tits, hips, hair, devouring you. You put your hands on top of his, removing them from you, but still holding onto them. You tilt your head at him, waiting for an answer.

“I can’t sleep,” he mumbles, a harsh gulp making his Adam’s apple bob. “Can’t stop fucking thinking about you.”

“Aw,” you tsk with pity. “I know you can't, baby.” You take his hands and put them back on your tits, encouraging him to squeeze. He groans and rolls his eyes back, deliciously obsessed with having you in his hands.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, and you run your hands through his hair gently, before catching the ends between your fingers and tugging, forcing his head back so he has to look up at you. His eyes are glazed over with lust, you want to lick up the long column of his neck, sweaty from his climb to your second story window. But you’re having too much fun making him weak.

“I was sleeping like a baby,” you lie. “You woke me up.”

“I..I’m sorry,” he stutters, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Maintaining your firm grip on his hair, you scan your eyes down his body until they land on the prominent bulge building in his sweatpants.

You lean down to get close to his face, his open mouth inches from yours. “Then you better make it up to me.”

He nods quickly, licking his lips. You release your grip on his hair and stand straight. Still on his knees, head level with your middle, he reaches for you tentatively, and you give him a nod of permission. He grabs the hem of your tank top, lifting it to reveal the soft skin of your stomach. He places a kiss on your stomach, it tickles, but you refuse to flinch and reveal how excited you are. He licks a stripe up and down, over your belly button and down toward the waistband of your shorts, making your pussy flutter as his hot mouth gets closer to it. He hooks his fingers over the waistband and slowly pulls them down, having to shimmy them a bit to make it over the curve of your ass. When you’re revealed to him, no panties, he actually whimpers.

“Can I taste you, please? Need to taste you,” he begs.

He watches in raptured anticipation as you grab the bunched up hem of your tank top and pull it over your head with two arms, your tits bouncing as you throw it to the side. You step backwards, keeping your eyes locked to him, and sit on your bed. You slide back toward the middle of the bed, propped up by your elbows, opening your legs. He looks like he might pass out.

“Stand up,” you instruct.

He obeys immediately, his tall frame filling the space in your room, his big shadow cast on the wall by the dim glow from the street lamp outside your window.

“Take your shirt off.” Once again he complies with no hesitation, one hand on the back of his t-shirt, his tricep flexing as he pulls it over his head in one swift motion. 'Fucking hell he’s so hot' you think, but don’t say, as you drink in his perfect body. Just the right mix of toned and muscular. Soft, tan skin covered in goosebumps from his wildly heightened senses. 

You bite your lip and taunt him with your eyes, silently nodding your head toward the bed, an order for him to return to his knees.

He crouches low, crawling toward you. He runs his large hands up the side of your legs and keeps his eyes on you the whole way until he’s inches from your pussy. You’re soaked now, but you know he won’t tease you for it, both of you addicted to the power dynamic here.

Still keeping his eyes on you, he licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at how good you taste and sending a deep vibration right through you.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as you sigh at the feeling. The sight of you getting lost in the pleasure ignites a fire in him and he begins eating you out like a starving man. You grind your hips into him, pushing his face further into your pussy, covering him in your wetness. 

He suddenly switches the direction of his tongue, sharpening it into a point that begins flicking over your clit with firm pressure. Your arms give out and you fall back onto your bed with a thud. Your hands shoot to his hair, pulling hard, making him groan in delight. Your soft moans are angelic, making him harder than he thought possible. He bucks his hips into the edge of your mattress desperately. You can feel it move beneath you as he ruts into it and you know he’s getting himself off, the thought of it making you gush even more.

“Love the way this pussy tastes,” he mumbles against your inner thigh. “Been wanting to taste you all day.”

“Then shut up and do it.” It comes out harsher than you meant it, but he loves it, knowing you’re frustrated because you’re so close to coming all over his face. He doesn’t hold back any longer, aggressively pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking hard.

“Shit!” You cry out through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

“Never,” he says quickly before moving his tongue to your entrance, thrusting it in and out as he shakes his head back and forth so his nose rubs over your clit. Your eyes are shut so tight you’re seeing stars. 

“You gonna make me cum?” You taunt him. He just nods, not wanting to separate his mouth from you for a second. 

He makes good on his promise and you're thrown over the edge, a loud cry escaping your hoarse throat. Clamping your thighs around his head, he grabs your hips and presses you into the mattress as his tongue works you through your orgasm. 

Once you’ve settled down, he lays on top of you, head on your bare chest, listening to the slowing of your heartbeat.

“I haven’t slept since the night I met you,” he confesses quietly.

“I know, baby,” you run your nails up and down his back soothingly. “I know.”

In the morning, you pull up his contact in your phone and change his name to 'Rafe'.

a/n: this is my first time posting just fully smut no real plot and i'm scared everybody be cool about it!!!!

[l4ndonorizz]

q&a stream gets personal (chat edition) / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: san holo - bring back the color

summary: a lighthearted Q&A stream between you and lando quickly turns serious when fan questions push you both to reveal long-hidden feelings, leading to a conversation that changes everything.

wc: 1.5k

The stream had been going for over thirty minutes now. You and Lando were sitting comfortably in front of the camera, bantering like you always did, making light of the fan questions. At first, everything felt easy—laughs, inside jokes, playful jabs—but you could feel the questions starting to shift, becoming more personal with every scroll through the chat.

Lando, as usual, was taking the lead. He leaned in, his eyes scanning the chat for the next question. “Alright, next one! This one’s for you,” he said, turning to you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “‘What’s the one thing that annoys you most about me?’”

You laughed, grateful for the harmless question, though your mind was still spinning from some of the bolder ones that had come up earlier. “That’s easy—how you can never decide what to eat when we hang out. You’re so indecisive.”

Lando gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest as if he’d been personally wounded. “It’s called being considerate! I don’t want to pick the wrong place and have you hate me for it.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, the ease returning to your voice. “Or maybe you just can’t make a decision.”

The chat lit up with laughing emojis and comments like “classic Lando” and “indecision king!” The conversation felt light again—for a moment, anyway. But then, Lando scrolled again, and his eyes locked on a question that made your stomach flip.

“This one’s for me,” he read aloud, his voice quieter now. “‘What’s the sweetest thing she’s ever done for you?’”

Your heart skipped a beat. The question hung in the air, and you could tell Lando was thinking, actually thinking, about how to answer. The playful energy between you shifted slightly, making the room feel smaller, more intimate.

“Well…” Lando started, pausing to look at you for a moment before turning back to the camera. “There was this one time when I got sick after a race, and she brought me soup and stayed the whole night to take care of me. That was pretty sweet.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly. You hadn’t expected him to bring that up, and the chat was going wild—spamming heart emojis and teasing comments like “aww, they’re so cute!” and “best friends or something more?”

You waved dismissively, laughing it off. “I’m just a good friend. That’s what good friends do.”

Lando turned to you, his smile softening. “Yeah, the best.”

His words sent a flutter through your chest, but you laughed nervously, pushing it aside. The chat wasn’t helping either, with more comments pouring in, speculating about your relationship. You tried to keep your composure, but the tension was beginning to creep in, a subtle shift in the air that neither of you could ignore.

Lando scrolled down again, and this time, the question he read out loud made the temperature in the room rise by several degrees.

“Oh, here’s a good one,” he said, glancing at you with a grin. “‘Do you guys think you’d make a good couple?’”

Your heart stopped. The chat was immediately flooded with excited comments, but all you could hear was the pounding in your ears. You glanced at Lando, expecting him to laugh it off, but his expression was more serious than you expected. He didn’t look uncomfortable—just thoughtful.

“I think we would,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent that made your breath catch.

You turned to him, wide-eyed. “Wait, what?”

Lando shrugged, trying to play it cool, but you could see the nervousness creeping in behind his grin. “I mean, why not? We get along great, we always have fun, and…” He paused, glancing at you, his smile faltering just a bit. “I think we’d be good together.”

The chat erupted. Fans were spamming “I KNEW IT!” and “FINALLY!” along with a torrent of heart emojis and comments begging for more details. But you couldn’t focus on the screen. All you could focus on was Lando sitting next to you, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.

Your heart pounded as you swallowed hard. “Are you… serious?”

Lando’s smile softened, and he shrugged again. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I mean… we’ve always gotten along so well. I’ve thought about it before.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and suddenly the lighthearted Q&A session felt too intimate, too real. You were aware of the camera recording, the thousands of people watching, and yet all of it seemed to fade into the background as the tension between you and Lando grew.

Before you could respond, Lando scrolled again, trying to move on from the tension, but the next question hit even harder.

“‘Have you ever had feelings for her?’” he read aloud, his voice now much quieter.

The chat was frozen, waiting for his response, and so were you. You didn’t dare breathe as you watched him process the question. For a moment, Lando looked like he might dodge it, make a joke out of it, but then he surprised you.

“Uh… yeah,” he admitted after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean… I’ve thought about it. More than once.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. The world felt like it had stopped spinning. Lando was still looking at the camera, but his gaze kept flickering toward you, gauging your reaction. The chat had exploded again, but you couldn’t process any of it. All you could think about was how you had just crossed a line, one that couldn’t be uncrossed.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure. “I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Lando turned to you, his eyes full of something you hadn’t seen before—vulnerability. “Yeah… well, I didn’t really know how to bring it up. Until now, I guess.”

The chat was full of comments, pushing for more, but the two of you sat in an awkward, loaded silence. You felt your pulse racing, and for the first time since the stream started, you had no idea what to say. Everything felt too exposed, too vulnerable.

Lando, sensing the tension, tried to move things along. “Let’s, uh… let’s move on to the next one.”

He scrolled quickly, but the chat had taken on a life of its own, and the questions weren’t letting up. The next one made the tension nearly unbearable.

“‘Do you regret anything in your friendship?’” Lando read aloud, his voice quieter again.

You swallowed, the weight of the question pressing down on you. Lando turned to look at you, his expression serious now, no trace of the lighthearted banter that had carried you through the stream earlier.

“I…” you started, unsure of what to say. The chat was waiting, Lando was waiting, and you could feel the nerves bubbling up inside you. “I don’t regret our friendship; I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But…”

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed. “But what?”

You fidgeted with your hands, the tension between you almost suffocating. You could feel the words building in your throat, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to say them—not here, not now, in front of all these people.

“I guess I regret… not being more honest,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the vulnerability still lingering in his gaze. For the first time during the stream, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. The chat, the cameras, the fans—it all faded away. All that mattered was the way Lando was looking at you, waiting.

“Honest about what?” he asked gently, his voice careful, as if he was afraid of pushing too far.

You hesitated, your heart racing. You knew the answer, and so did he. But saying it out loud felt like crossing a line that neither of you could come back from.

“I just…” you started, your voice shaking slightly. “I’ve never told you how much you mean to me.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback by your admission. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you trailed off, glancing away as the tension became too much to bear. “I care about you. A lot. More than just… as a friend.”

The room felt like it had gone completely silent, except for the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Lando stared at you, processing what you’d just said, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Finally, Lando let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I care about you too.”

The chat was exploding with heart emojis and comments, but none of that mattered anymore. The air between you was thick with the weight of everything you’d just revealed, and for the first time, it felt like you were both being completely honest with each other.

Lando gave you a small, nervous smile. “Well… I guess that’s one way to wrap up a Q&A stream.”

You laughed, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah… not what I expected.”

The chat was still buzzing, but all you could focus on was the way Lando was looking at you—as if everything had just changed between you, and maybe, for the better.

[ameliathornromance]

Your heart thundered in your chest. Everything was a blur, tinged with redness. Redness from blood that dripped from your chin and onto the ground.

You couldn't clearly remember what had happened. It was a nice and sunny day. You had gone on one of your regular walks. Admittedly, today was a little different. 

Your Orc Boyfriend, amazing and wonderful as ever, had brought you back a necklace. He said he found it in a cave full of abandoned clothes and jewels. “Probably left by some bandits or something,” he’d explained. 

When you questioned the stolen item, he nonchalantly waved his hand. “That stuffs been abandoned for years. There was a thick layer of dust on the chest.”

With that in mind, you put on the necklace and hadn’t taken it off since. 

Now it was gone. Scratch marks on your neck from long fingernails were now rising on your skin, red and angry.

The camp was finally in sight. It gave you a burst of energy. Ignoring the pain, you took off into a run. No longer being able to hold back the tears, you released a wail when you entered the camp.

Your Orc was over with his fellows, eating some kind of meat. He dropped it at the sight of you, rushed over and caught you in his arms. “Love? What happened?” He asked, eyes darting all over your body, putting pressure on the gash on your forehead.

Other Orcs took off in search of the healer, while others crowded around you, bombarding you with questions: 

“Who did this to you?”

“They’ll pay for what they did, won’t they?”

“Yeah, of course. We’ll give them a real beating.”

“Everyone shut up!” hollered your Orc.

Once your wounds were tended to and you had calmed down, you and your Orc Boyfriend, along with his group of fellows, all sat in your shared tent, clutching a mug of warm tea in your hands. Since you were in a much calmer mindset now, the memories had come back to you.

“I went to the town, just over the hill.” You started. Instantly, some Orcs snorted and growled, “Fucking humans, always doing this kind of shit.”

“Silence!” Your Orc commanded. They fell silent as you continued.

“There were some noblewomen. They saw my necklace and told me to give it to them.” You gripped onto the mug. “When I said no, they told me I must have stolen it from some other noble woman that I worked for. And…” You fell silent as tears welled up in your eyes again.

The Orc stayed quiet as they watched your tears roll down your cheeks. Your Orc was so quiet you could have sworn that he’d left the tent. 

A loud clap caused you to jump. “Everyone out.” Your Orc said.

All the Orcs looked at him like he was mad. “What? You can’t just-”

“It’s my living quarters, everyone out!” He snapped.

Grumbling and casting disdained glances over their shoulders, all the Orcs left. Except for your boyfriend. He sank to his knees by the bedside, head face down to the sheets. “They will pay for this,” He growled.

He went to leave. To go, order his others to prepare for an attack on the village, to avenge you and restore his honour. But your hand grasped onto his. “Don’t go.” You pleaded. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Your Orc stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, down at you on the bed, he wondered how anyone could have tried to hurt you. He returned to his position beside you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “They will pay for this.” Your Orc promised you.

“I don’t want to hear about that right now.” You said. “Please… just… don’t go.”

And he didn’t. When you’d finished your tea and curled up under the covers of your bed, he sat there until you closed your eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

From that night onwards, he vowed to never let you leave the camp alone. Lest something like this happen again. He would never allow harm to come to you ever again. If they wanted to hurt you, they would have to go through him and his kin first.

Revenge could wait. The softness of your breathing was more than enough to soothe his angry heart.

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[intoxicated-chan]

Miguel O’Hara with a somnophilia kink x f!reader

Restless Night

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel can’t help himself, even with your past words.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Short, sweet, and smutty!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 500

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, consensual somnophilia kink, nipple sucking, biting kink, blood…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

Miguel stares as your chest rises up and down, over and over again… The way your lips parted and how your breath abruptly hitched in your sleep.

He watches you turn over on your side. The tank top you wore exposed your chest greatly, if it fell a little further down then he could get a clear view of your breasts.

He could feel the discomfort in his pants become difficult to ignore, the more he stares, the more it grows.

“Are you… Sure?”

“Miguel, I told you it’s completely fine. I know that you’re up all night long and letting you use me whenever. I give you my permission, I’m perfectly fine with it.”

Even with your words, and your consent, he still feels that guilt when he pulls your tank top down.

His eyes are instantly drawn to your breasts, he pushes you into your back and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking.

His tongue circled your nipple before he bites down, but not hard enough.

He adjusts his position, between your legs and just crotch pressed up against yours.

As he continues sucking on your nipples, giving each the same attention, he grinds up against you.

His hands remained to your sides, but it wasn’t long before his hands moved. He claws at your shirt carefully, ripping it into pieces, allowing him full access to your upper body.

He could hear your heart beating faster, he could feel your body growing hot and how you begin to move in your sleep.

Your eyes squeezed, you were close to waking up. It added to his pleasure, how you could wake up any second and see what he’s doing.

Your hips buck as he grinds. He pulls away from your breasts, his hands fumbling with your pants until finally he gets them off.

He could smell you... How wet you are.

God, you were so intoxicating.

But Miguel did enjoy taking his time with moments like these.

He turns his attention to your neck, out and exposed. In an instant, he’s latched onto it, his teeth puncturing your flesh.

Your eyes snapped open and before you could say anything, one of his hands was clamped over your mouth.

You let out a pained moan, muffled.

“The things you do to me.” He said once he removed himself, “The insanity you drive me to.”

One of your hands comes to the one over your mother and the other on his shoulder. You try to pull him away, “Are you okay?” He asks. You could see your blood at the corners of his mouth.

You nod.

His hands go back to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them.

You sneak your hand down to his crotch, palming him through his pants. He lets out breathy moans but he grabs your wrist.

“You take care of me…” You could see it in his eyes, “Ahora déjame cuidar de ti.” (Now let me take care of you.)

How clouded they were by lust.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copy, translated, or put my work on any other platform without my permission.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 2

Chapter summary: Tensions rise during a church fundraiser, unexpected closeness with Joel begins to blur the lines between what’s right and wrong.

A/N: It took me so long to post this, school has been killing me lately, my sincerest apologies. This is a fun little chapter, wrote it a while back. I’m currently writing chapter 4 and I can’t wait for you guys to read that one. I hope you enjoy this 🤍

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, some accidental physical contact lol

Series masterlist

Two days after the barbeque, you’re woken up by the gentle touch of your dad stroking your hair.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he says almost in a whisper

You squint at the clock on your nightstand, its red numbers flashing in the dim morning light. The faint glow through your curtains barely illuminates your dad’s face. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, kiddo. Just wanted to let you know I’m off to that church fundraiser we told you about. They need me and Joel to help with setting up lights and whatnot. Didn’t know if you’d wanna come”

You groan, rolling onto your back and closing your eyes. “Dad, it's 6:30 a.m on a Sunday. The only thing I wanna do right now is burrow myself in this bed for at least three more hours.”

He chuckles softly, standing up from where he was crouching next to your bed. “Alright, you’ll have to help your mom with the baking then. She’s gonna be selling all those pastries today and I bet she could use a sous-chef”

Before he can make it any closer to the door, you sit up in your bed and rub your eyes “I’m up. Be down in 5”

You cradle a hot cup of coffee to your chest, the summer heat creeping in very slowly this early in the morning. Your first stop is Joel’s house and even the struggle to keep your eyes open doesn’t distract you from the nervous flutter in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

You've been doing mental gymnastics, trying your damn hardest to keep your mind off of him, convincing yourself this is just a silly fixation and will pass as soon as you get used to seeing him around. Just push through it, and eventually, your heart will get the memo.

Your dad pulls up to his driveway and parks right next to his truck. The front door is in your direct line of sight when Joel opens it, carrying a couple boxes and a toolbelt slung over his shoulder. You have to make a conscious effort to not stare at his arms, at how big they get whenever he carries heavy things around—that proves to be a lot harder when he’s walking in a straight line towards you.

Thankfully, your dad gets out of the car to help, sparing you from further gawking. You hear him ask if there are any boxes left inside and from the way he heads back towards the house, you guess the answer is yes.You roll your window down to ask if he needs any help just as those strong arms you were trying to ignore rest themselves on the window frame.

“You didn’t strike me as an early bird.” Joel says, his eyes now leveled with yours, much closer than you had been two days ago.

Your cheeks betray you, flushing a shade of red that now feels reserved for him. “Do I strike you as my mom’s baking assistant for the entire day?” you retort, a grin sneaking onto your face.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said you weren’t trying to earn another one of those earth shattering chuckles with your comment. Turns out you’re pretty good at it, because a second later he’s dropping his head, a low rumbly chuckle escaping him. “I reckon you don’t.”

His eyes come back up to meet yours, holding for a beat longer than they probably should, like he’s giving you one more tiny bread crumb to follow the trail, to figure out the riddle. Or maybe you’re just losing your mind, which is entirely possible.

Just when the tension between you two is about to reach a breaking point, your dad reappears with more boxes.

“A little help, pal? It wouldn’t kill ya,” he calls out, breaking the spell.

As your dad parks the car in front of the church, you spot Mrs. Calloway, the lively old lady you spoke to at the barbecue, waving energetically. The early morning sun casts long shadows across the church’s lawn, the air carrying the faint smell of freshly-cut grass.

“Oh good, you’re here!” she greets the three of you as you step out of the car.

“Mornin’, Mrs. Calloway. How’s the day treatin’ you?” your dad asks, hauling open the truck's tailgate.

“Oh, busy, so much to do. I see you brought me an extra pair of hands here,” she says, sidling up to you and giving your arm a friendly squeeze.

“Yeah, he was very convincing, couldn’t refuse the invite,” you reply with a polite smile. You've taken a real liking to Mrs. Calloway. She never talks about your parents when she chats with you. Instead, she asks about your life or shares stories about her cats—which is a refreshing change of pace.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t, pumpkin. I have a bunch of decorations to put up inside.” She leans in closer and half-whispers, “And for all their virtues, I wouldn’t trust these ones with decorating if it was my last day on earth.”

You can’t help but giggle just as a voice comes from the back of the truck. “Heard that.”

You turn to see Joel balancing a couple boxes with practiced ease “Is she wrong?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

He grins, shaking his head. “No, she’s very right.”

“Oh, Joel could help you out” Mrs. Calloway suggests. “There are some pretty big containers stuffed in the back of the storage room with everything you’ll need. Why don’t you go grab them while we start setting up the tables out here?”

“You got it,” you say, trying to wave away the thought of being alone with Joel again.

You walk into the church with Joel trailing just behind, his presence is a comforting warmth against the cool morning air. The quiet of the church envelops you both, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly. You spot a door in the back corner “That’s the one?”

“That’s the one.” Joel confirms, taking the lead as you reach the storage room.

Inside, you find a mountain of containers piled up against the wall, with big brown boxes and plastic bags teetering on top.

“So, how many of these do we need?” you ask, hoping to distract yourself from how close he is.

“Just a couple to start with,” Joel replies, handing you one of the containers. “We’ll come back if we need more.”

You both carry the containers out of the storage room, the clatter of plastic echoing through the empty church hall.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Joel says, setting his container down and opening it. You follow suit, pulling out strings of lights, banners, and a variety of festive decorations.

“I didn’t think we’d be doing arts and crafts today,” you joke, unfurling a particularly colorful garland.

Joel smiles. “Yeah, not exactly my forte, but we’ll make it work.”

You pick a banner out of the container, large enough to hang from one column to the other, and spot metal hooks screwed all the way up—clearly where it’s meant to go.

You notice a small ladder pushed against a corner and leave Joel’s side to fetch it.

He only seems to notice what you’re up to once he hears the ladder scraping against the column

“Leave it, I'll take care of that.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m not a lady in distress, I can hang up a banner on my own, Joel.” You reply stepping up on the ladder trying to test out its stability with a little bounce

“I know you can darlin’, but I’d rather do it myself. That ladder—”

“The ladder is fine, Joel. Go back to untangling those lights.” You’re not quite sure what you’re trying to prove – maybe this was an attempt at stripping away that childish image he had of you.

He disregards your comment and walks right to your side, his hands slightly stretched out like he's preparing to catch you.

“You’re being so dramatic,” you say climbing to the highest point of the ladder.

Sure, it’s old but if it held up this long it could hold for a little bit longer. “See? I’m just fine, I just gotta hook this up here…”

As if on cue, the ladder starts creaking ominously just as you stretch your arm out to reach the hook. Not half a second later, the rusty metal piece that was holding all your weight up snaps and Joel’s arms wrap around your body, pulling you safely against his chest.

For the second time that day, you could say that was the closest to Joel you’ve ever been. His face just inches away from yours, both arms holding you securely, the woody, musky scent your brain had labeled as uniquely his, overwhelming your senses.

Words failed you as you stared into those deep brown eyes, and every part of you wanted to believe it was just the shock of the fall, but it was getting harder and harder to keep shamelessly lying to yourself.

When he finally breaks the silence, it’s pretty much a lost battle. “Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you now?”

“Favorite color”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Joel chuckles once again, and at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve pulled that off. With Joel Miller, even a small chuckle feels like a major accomplishment.

After spending the entire morning decorating the inside of the church (most of which you spent explaining to him he couldn’t mix the red decorations with the green ones because it wasn’t christmas), you were both assigned raffle duty. You sold the tickets and Joel put them in the big raffle draw, using the lever to mix them up as he went.

The two of you sat behind a little stand, and in your best attempt to hear as much as you could of that sweet, caramel-y drawl, you convinced him to play twenty-questions. Each of you took turns asking the other whatever popped into your heads, and the other had to answer honestly.

Your questions ranged from what animal he would choose to turn into if he could shapeshift at will, to his favorite subjects back in high school, and even who in your family he would take to a deserted island if he knew he’d have to partner up to make it out alive. (He picked you, obviously. Your dad was terrible at functioning in high pressure situations). His questions on the other hand had been generic at best, deadly boring at worst.

You leaned back in your chair, the wooden slats creaking under your weight, and gave him a playful glare.

“You said any question that popped into my head,” he defends himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh and you’re dying to know my favorite color, are you?” you ask back, dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ll lose sleep over it if you don’t tell me” his voice gets low and serious in complete contrast to how ridiculous his statement is.

“Blue,” you admit, “but not the default shade of blue everyone thinks of, more like a ‘clear water lake’ kind of blue” you look back at him and he just kind of stares, like he's too distracted by you to even register the answer to his question. “What’s your’s?” you ask, pulling him out of his trance.

“Brown.”

You laugh at his answer.

“Something funny?” he asks

“Only you, Joel Miller, would have brown as your favorite color.”

“It’s a perfectly normal favorite color.” He says defensively, a little frown creasing his features.

“Joel, it’s the most boring of colors, it’s not even a color in itself, it's all the colors mushed together.” you giggle at the absurdity of the conversation, leaning in closer, enjoying the banter more than you care to admit.

“It’s practical, goes well with everything, looks good in any house—an easy, simple color.”

“But your favorite color isn’t supposed to be about practicality, it’s supposed to be about which one you like the most.” You argue back.

“You tryna tell me how to pick my own favorite color, kid?” he teases you, receiving only a death stare in return.The warmth in his eyes makes your heart skip. “Fine, it’s green.”

“See? That's a normal favorite color”

“Yeah, and you’re a piece a’ work.” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips that tells you he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

Just like that, Joel Miller makes the rest of the day easy to get through. Even with the awkward feeling of being an outsider, looking through a window into a room full of people who’ve known each other their whole lives, he manages to ground you. He’s either pulling you into senseless conversation or letting you bask in a comfortable silence, and both feel like a lifeline.

By the end of the day, you walk around helping Ms. Calloway clear out the tables, throw all the empty cups and disposable plates into a trash back and group up the chairs so your dad can take them back inside.

During one of your ‘picking up leftover trash’ rounds, you see your mom standing next to Joel’s truck. He’s right beside her loadingback up the tools he’d brought with him this morning. You knew Joel was a lot colder and closed off with other people—that's what earned him his grump reputation in the first place—but in the short time you’ve been around him since you came back, you’ve never seen him be so stiff around anyone like he is with your mom.

That is certainly a rare sight, given your mom was one to charm any and everyone who crossed her path. Pageant queen, cheerleader, hair larger than life type—your mom is a sight for sore eyes, even you have to admit that. It was hard to engage in conversation with her and not be dazzled by her looks and also by her bubbly personality, or the persona she put on for others at least. It almost seemed like she hadn’t been told no once in her entire life.

But Joel seemed immune to it, no warm smile on his face, no polite small talk, not even gentleman-like behavior beyond the strictly necessary. In fact, something in his face told you he couldn’t wait to get on his truck and leave. He stands with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, every line of his body screaming discomfort.

You watch the two of them from a distance, your mom batting her eyelashes up at him, her body leaning towards him slightly, trying to close the gap he’s so obviously desperate to maintain. Meanwhile, Joel looks like he’s doing everything in his power to keep his distance, stepping closer and closer to his truck’s tailgate. His jaw is set like stone, eyes flicking to the side as if searching for an escape route, and you can almost see the tension radiating off him in waves.

Your mom leans in closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thinks is a conspiratorial whisper. Even from a distance, you can see Joel’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something like annoyance passing over his face before he schools his expression back to neutral.

An unshakable uneasiness tugs at your chest that won't allow you to walk away, against your best instincts you decide to barge in.

“Hey, Mom!” you chirp, sliding right up next to Joel. “I think Mrs. Calloway is looking for you. Something about the pies?”

Your mom turns to you with a bright smile, though there’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that’s hard to miss. “Oh, I’m sure she can manage without me for a moment,” she says, but you can tell she’s not thrilled about being interrupted.

Joel gives you a grateful look, his eyes meeting yours with a silent thanks. You catch a slight relaxation in his shoulders, like he’s the one being thrown a lifeline this time.

“Actually, Mom, she seemed really insistent,” you retort, trying to sell the urgency of the situation. “You know… with the wrapping things up and all.”

Your mom hesitates, her gaze flicking between you and Joel. Finally, she relents with a sigh, though the look she gives you says this conversation is far from over. “Alright, I’ll go see what she needs. But we’re not done talking about this, Joel,” she says, her voice carrying an edge that makes your skin crawl, before turning on her heel and striding away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Joel exhales a long breath. He extends you one more polite nod and jumps into the truck without another word. You don’t like the feeling it gives you, not one bit.

Before you can dwell too much in your thoughts, you hear your mom’s voice calling your name, and you turn to see her motioning for you to join her. Here comes the earful.

With a resigned sigh, you make your way over to her, bracing for the inevitable.

“Sweetheart,” she begins in a voice that’s both sugar and vinegar, “you really shouldn’t interrupt when adults are talking. It’s important to know your place.”

You nod, biting back the retort on the tip of your tongue. “I know, Mom. I just thought you might want to check on Mrs. Calloway.”

She narrows her eyes, as if trying to read your mind. “If you go around behaving like a heathen, it reflects poorly on me. You’d do well to remember that.”

You stare back at her, head high and an unfaltering cool facade. She used to intimidate you, this tone used to make you feel so small and insignificant, but it doesn’t anymore. Hasn’t for a good while now. “Got it,” you reply, forcing a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[urfavlarry]

hello, I saw your reader who lives in the phantom universe fic and can we please get a pt 2 where reader gets transported back with them and starts school? Reader gets bullied because they haven't seen people for a long time and their social skills are lacking. You can ignore this if you want.

Thank you ❤

Tyler Hernández x reader part II

Part I

warnings: swearing, bad grammar, reader gets bullied, fem!reader

genre: angst with fluff at the end

A/N: if you want an Aiden version, message me<3

translations: hermosa-beautiful, mi reina hermosa- my beauiful queen, amor,mi amor- love, my love, mi vida- my life

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You groan, rubbing your aching head and hiss in pain as the warm summer sun hits your eyes like daggers. Wait. Warm summer sun? You quickly rise to your feet but stumble back, landing straight on your ass. “What the fuck? Is this what I think it is?” Your hands go through the soft grass, the wind brushing your skin making the temperature just right. Your heart beat quickens as you look around, seeing the oh so familiar house you last saw years ago. You shakily stand up and walk to the house. The door was just a few inches away, yet something was stopping you from knocking; “What if they moved on?” “What if they won’t want me anymore?”

You knock on the door softly and you hear a dog barking and footsteps; “We have a dog?” You wonder but freeze as you hear the door unlocking, and there she was; your mother. “Um, are you—” You get cut off by a bone crushing hug; “Oh Y/N my baby, you.. your back.. my baby..” She sobs into your shoulder as you stand there awkwardly, patting her back. She grabs you by the shoulder and looks at you with puffy eyes; “Where have you been all these years? Look at you! So grown up. Your hair..” She starts to ramble and you look at the house, your pictures still there, your baby photos.. everything was the same. Another pair of footsteps is heard throughout the house and you look past your mom’s shoulder. “Honey who was… it.” Your father drops everything on the floor and runs to you, engulfing you into a big hug, spinning you around. “Y/N I can’t believe it’s you.. you’re okay? Where have you been?” You look at them, your whole body trembling. “I must be dreaming.. this can’t be right.. i’ve bee stuck in that place for so long I must be hallucinating..” You mumble underneath your breath, your knees giving out.

Your parents look at you concerned, your mother going to get something while your father rubs your back soothingly, trying his best to comfort you. Your mother crouches down next to you and lifts your chin up to look at her. “It’s okay baby you’re home.. this is real okay?” She says and hands you a worn out stuffed toy. Your heart melts as you recognize the old thing, hugging it close to your chest. You stay there in their embrace for what feels like hours, not even noticing the fact you fell asleep. The next day you thought you would wake up back in that terrible place, but you didn’t. You woke up in a soft bed, warm blankets on top of you. You recognize the scent of the room immediately and smile softly. “Home..” You mumble and lift yourself up from the bed, your feet hitting the cold ground making your body shudder.

You walk downstairs, your parents making breakfast. You yawn and sit down in the living room, the dog jumping to lay beside you. A second later your mom and dad walk into the living room, handing you your breakfast with a quick kiss on the cheek from your mom. “Good morning, sleep well?” You nod and munch on your breakfast. ‘Finally decent food’ You think to yourself and finish eating. “Wow that was quick.” Your dad jokes and you smile, putting the dishes in the sink and walk back. “Soo.. I was thinking we could go shopping today? Since you only have your old clothes that probably will not fit you at all?” And so it was set!

You had a lot of fun shopping, you saw how styles have changed and well.. how everything has changed. Then it hits you; the other must be worried sick. You disappear into thin air and they don’t know where you are. “I should ask my mom if she knows her parents.” You think to yourself and look at your mom who was now driving you guys back home. “Wow we really sure spent a lot didn’t we?” She jokes and you chuckle awkwardly; “Um mom? Do you by any chance know the Banner family?” You ask and fiddle with your sleeves. She looks at you confused; “Oh they’re our neighbors, why? How do you know them?” “Oh um I saw them when we were going to the car!”

She looks at you unconvinced but drops the subject; “Well if you want we can invite them over? Their daughter Ashlyn is your age!” She smiles enthusiastically and starts to ramble about what she will make for dinner. And so dinner came around, your mother was cooking your favorite and you were setting the table while your dad was just watching TV. “Y/N honey I think they’re here, could you go open the door?” “On it.” You say and run to the door, and there she was; Ashlyn. You smile at them kindly and let them in, Ashlyn looking at you with a “what the fuck” face and you shrug. “Mom, me and Ash are going upstairs!” You don’t give her time to reply and drag Ashlyn to your room, shutting it behind you. “Where have you been!?” She whisper yells and paces around your room. “We were worried sick! Especially Tyler! He’s been going crazy for the past 2 days!” She says and sits down on your bed. You look at her and shrug; “I wish I could tell you how I got here but I really don’t know. I don’t go back at night like you do tho but I guess you’ve noticed that.” She nods and drops the topic for now, talking to you about school and who to avoid. You were starting school tomorrow and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You and Ashlyn would meet up every morning at the bus stop and go to school together along with Aiden and Ben.

The next day it’s just like you planned; meet up with Ashlyn and go to school together. You sat next to her after getting yet another bone crushing hug from Aiden and just a simple wave from Ben who in his own way was glad you were okay. Aiden yapped the whole way to school but you didn’t mind, it was nice being with them again. You were nervous about seeing Tyler. Would he be mad? You don’t know.

You walk with the others to the office to get your schedule which was basically the same since you’re in the same class. Suddenly the halls get crowded, people arriving in school and you get separated from the others, loosing them in the giant crowd. You look around frantically searching for them and try to push through the crowd mumbling quick a ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’. You get pulled back into a bathroom by a black haired boy. He was fairly tall and had shoulder length hair. “I um.. Hi..” You say and fiddle with your hoodie. “Hey newbie you looked like a damned lost puppy in that crowd.” He smirks and makes you back up into a wall. “I.. uh.” “Well what’s your name?” He says and put his arm next to your head, basically caging you there with him. “My name.. it’s ..the.. uh.. I mean it’s Y/N.” You say, slapping yourself internally at the awkward interaction. The boy laughs and goes to speak when another very familiar voice spoke up; “Hey you fucking asshole leave her alone.” He gets pushed off and you scatter to the door of the bathroom, watching Tyler beat the boy. You grab him by the shoulder and speak up; “We should.. go..” Tyler stands up, breathing heavily and leads you away.

Once you get away from the crowd he pulls you into a loving kiss. “You don’t know how much i’ve missed you mi reina hermosa.” He says and hugs you, lifting you up and spins you around. You chuckle and hug him back, kissing him on the cheek. “I missed you too Ty, let’s go to class we can talk later okay?” You say and smile at him, taking his hand and interwine your fingers. He leads you to the class and you get there just in time before the bell rings. You get pulled in front of the class by the teacher and you look down at the ground nervously. “Students this is our new student Y/N L/N, treat them with kindess even if they arrived in the middle of the year.” He says and smiles at you kindly. “Now go ahead and introduce yourself.” Your face feels hot and you stutter our a quick sentance; “Mynameisy/nandIliketolistentomusic.” You say and regret even speaking as most of the class starts to laugh. The teacher shuts them up and you quickly sit down in your seat, resting your head down on the table and try not to think about this awkward day.

And after that day the bullying began. You would get called names, people fake stuttering when talking to you and fiddle with their hands. You laugh awkwardly about it, not knowing how to protect yourself when Tyler wasn’t there to shut them up. You didn’t want to depend on him so you kept quiet about it and bottled up your emotions. Tyler quickly noticed your change in behavior. You were more quiet then usual and you weren’t as talkative as you were when you were in the phantom realm.

One day you were hanging out at his house, him laying on top of you while you played with his hair. He looks up at you with hooded eyes and flips you both so you were now the one on top of him. “Amor what’s up with you lately?” You raise a brow as a sign for him to continue. “Well, ugh.. just.. you’ve been so distant lately and you don’t talk as much as you did before.” He says and sits up, cupping your cheek and traces loving circles on it. “You know if somethings going on you can tell me, right?” He says and smiles softly. You contemplate what to say, should you tell him the truth? Well he already knows something is going on so it would be better if you did. But what if the bullying didn’t stop? What if it only gets worse? You shake off those thoughts and sigh, beginning to speak and tell him everything.

How the bullying started, who bullies you, how they bully you, literally everything. You ramble on and on, trying your best to tell him that it’s nothing but he shuts you up with a quick peck on the lips. “Y/N this is serious you know? It’s okay to be nervous around people. I mean, how long have you been without human contact aside me and the rest of the group?” He asks and you stay silent and frown. “Exactly. I promise to be here for you from now on and I am so sorry I haven’t been this entire time mi vida.” He says and pulls you into a warm embrace, inviting you to let out all of your emotions, which you do. You sob and ramble for what feels like hours on end and calm down after talking about it some more with Tyler. Your eyes were puffy and you looked away from him and joke; “Don’t look at me i’m probably not the prettiest sight right now.” You chuckle and wipe away your tears.

He pulls you closer by the waist and peppers your face with kisses, making you giggle. “You.Are.The.Most.Prettiest.Girl.In.The.World.” He says im between kisses and gives you one last kiss on the lips. “But really mi amor if anyone bothers you from now on come and tell me, but I will be by your side most of the time now okay?” Your hearts mealts and nod, laying back down with him and think to yourself; “Home at last..”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[dragonsfictavern]

Early Morning Risers

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: This is my contribution to Batstarion! I love the look of that lil guy and I wanted to write something with him so freaking bad. It’s worth getting to the second half, trust as it does get a lil suggestive at the end ;)

summary: Out on your morning walk you come across an injured bat in an alley. From the goodness in your heart you decide to take it home to help take care of it. But things are not what they seem and you find that out once you enter the darkness of your home.

word count: 1.9k

The early morning always made Baldur’s Gate look especially beautiful, in your opinion. When the sky was still dark in a way that made the world shine blue. As the sun has yet to rise. This was one of your favorite times of morning. It’s when you always take your morning walk.

Today was a day like any other, the sky was dark but the sun was rising especially quickly this morning. You feel the stone beneath your feet and the soft breeze kissing your skin. There wasn’t another person in sight and it was marvelous. Until, you hear an incessant chirping noise that immediately disrupts your peace.

You groan, wincing at the sound and cursing your ability to hear. Stumbling as you put a hand over an ear, you look around in search of the sounds’ origin. Stepping up, you peer around the corner and down a small alley. Looking around warily, you slip an arm inside your cloak, taking hold on your small dagger.

The noise continues and you try not to close your eyes but your head shakes as if that will get rid of the horrific noise rattling your ear drums. You narrow your sights on a large pile of boxes, eyes flickering over the structure. There could be anything hiding in there. When the boxes near the bottom first shake, you jump, taking a step back.

Your heart beats rapidly as your mind runs through idea after idea of what could be in there. Blade at the ready you step forward once again, closing in on a specific box near the bottom. No matter if this was innocent or a trap, you were ready for it. Tightening your grip on the dagger, your foot shoots forward, kicking the box back. The chirping noise instantly stops and it seems as though you both freeze.

Even as your mind yells at you not to do this, to ignore it now that it’s stopped and go on with your day, you can’t help but crouch down, peering into the box and waiting to see what it is that’s inside. Your eyes squint and it takes a few moments before you see a tiny white bat huddling in the back of the box.

Your heart instantly melts and the tension in your body fades away. Your lip seems to jut out all on its own as you start cooing at the cute little creature. Reaching out, dagger still toying between your fingers, you notice the bat flinch away from you. It cowers in a corner and you realize how scared it must be. You don’t hesitate to put your dagger away and reach your hand back out.

“Here, little one, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you,” you say soothingly to the creature. This time, after a few very long moments, the bat inches forward. As it does you notice a slight limp in its leg as it heads toward you. An ache spreads through your chest as you feel for this poor animal. It’s hurt and all alone with no one to help them.

When the bat reaches your hand, your feelings for the animal grow ever further as it nuzzles its face into your fingers. It lets out another few chirps, though luckily it was quieter this time. As if knowing it had gained some help and wasn’t trying to catch more attention. As if you were enough. The thought made you smile.

“Are you hurt? Do you need some help?” You try and ask, knowing very well you had no abilities to speak to animals as many did. But somehow it’s like the bat understood you anyway as it inches further against your hand. Smiling, you cup your hand and flinch slightly as the bat immediately jumps into it. With a light chuckle that shakes your shoulders, you bring the back to your chest. “We’ll head home and I’ll get that leg all fixed up for you.”

Once close to your body, the bat scurries closer up your chest and under your cloak. It causes a shout of laughter to leave you. It’s little claws pricking at your skin as it moves but not hurting too badly. Assuming the little thing must’ve been so cold, you cover the bat more snugly with your cloak, making sure not a peep of fur is sticking out. After making sure the bat is well and good, you start making the trek home.

The sun was rising, already past the horizon. You realize your interaction with your little bat friend here must’ve taken longer than you originally thought. No matter, you quicken your step, making your way home faster than planned. Your tranquil morning walk was long since interrupted so there was no point in trying to salvage it now. Especially not when this animal needs your help.

When you two reach your home, you stop at the entrance, taking out your key. You make sure to give a little pat to the bat shape under your cloak. The sun was rising higher now, showering you and all of Baldur’s Gate in its friendly warmth. The glow reflects off your face but what remains in your cloak is protected, hidden from its rays.

“Come on in, little fellow! Welcome to my home,” you speak to the bat, snickering as you act as polite as possible to your new friend. As you open the door to your home within the city, when you were once lit up by the sun, you are now washed in darkness. Your windows have yet to be opened so no sun was shining in.

Instead of opening them, you find yourself just simply turning the lights on. It provides enough light for now and there’s always later. Just as you start to take off your cloak, the bat begins flapping its wings, trying to escape the confines of your cloak. You shriek, stumbling around as you frantically toss off your cloak, breathing heavily as the bat flies off to a corner of the room.

You rest your hands on your knees, looking over at the bat in agitation. You pick up the cloak, shaking your head as you toss it off to the side. A small flicker of regret starts to form in your mind and you wonder why in the hells did you bring a bat into your home. Just as you’re about to say something to the menace, your attention snaps toward it as its wings flap.

It hovers in the air for a few moments and your curiosity grows. Then to your horror, the creature begins to transform. Your mind runs wild, one thought bulldozing into the next as you watch the creature change shape. Your body is frozen where you stand as you can’t believe what’s happening, you can’t believe you’ve gotten yourself into this mess, and you can’t believe you were so dumb. Your eyes dart to the window, but no, it’s way too far now. You risk glancing for your cloak but it’s nowhere in sight. So no dagger either.

Feet hit the ground a moment later, gaining back your attention. From what you know, you should never look away from these sorts of creatures. Not that you really want to, despite the fear crawling its way all over your body. The creature was shamefully breathtakingly handsome. With white soft-looking curls falling from his head, angular features, and enchanting red eyes, you couldn’t help but want to continue looking. Though your desperation for survival was a clever guise for whatever feelings the sight of this thing arose in you.

“You’re a- a- a-“ you try and force out the word but dammit, saying the word would make this all too real and what you wanted more than anything was for this to not be real. But the man moves with a regal grace as he shifts back on his feet. He tilts his head, grinning in a way that has his fangs glimmering against the light.

“A vampire, yes. But please, no need to be so eloquent about it, darling,” the man drawls out, stepping closer with a sway of his shoulders. You, in turn, step back, your mind still a flurry of thoughts and plans to get yourself out of this. But you come up completely short, leaving you to simply look over his form and trying to figure out his next move. “But I prefer Astarion to vampire, if we’re getting technical.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” You ask him, voice shaky. Astarion. The name rings in your ears while you stay completely in the dark about what his plans are for you. You long to know, to simply get the suspense over with and shed some light on this horror of a morning.

You continue backing away, hand reaching out behind you onto your dining table. But you slip and stumble into it instead, wood biting at the back of your legs as the contents on top rattle noisily. Astarion’s brows furrow briefly as he watches you, gauging your reactions, finding you… amusing.

“Well I’m not gonna kill you if that’s the conclusion you’ve jumped to. At least not yet.” Astarions voice is low, having already checked inside to make sure you were alone but not knowing who could be close by. He continues walking toward you, justifying it by telling himself it would be easier to talk quieter the close you two are. Yet in reality, Astarion was drawn to you, curious about you. He wonders how fun you’d be to play with if your current exchange gave any impression.

“Then why do all this?” You cry out, breaking Astarion from his fleeting thoughts. You couldn’t understand him at all, having never met a vampire before. Your mind and body were panicking and you could barely think, barely capable of asking him anything of substance. Astarion asks himself the same question but the voice in his mind only supplies him with one answer: Get closer.

“I need to get out of the sun, you see, and you helped splendidly with that,” Astarion explains with a shake of his head and a broadening smile to accompany it. As if it was such a simple answer to provide, as if his own thoughts weren’t spiraling at the sight of you. So he resorts to this. Your stomach churns as you get the impression he was only mocking you. Not truly caring for what you did or how you might’ve actually saved his life from what you gather.

“So… you’ll leave, right? After the sun sets,” you ask instead, your voice small and uncertain. Completely the opposite from what you hear in Astarion’s. Astarion slows his stride as he processes your words.

The idea of him leaving felt strange and before he could stop it, images of you helping him in his other form floods through his mind. It must be Astarion’s need to toy with you more, that’s it. But he can manage plenty of that throughout the day, satisfy himself and then leave you without a second thought. He’s sure of it. So he continues walking, not stopping until only inches separate you two.

“Cross. My. Heart.” He draws a cross over his still heart as he utters this to you lowly. You watch in fascination as he morphs his face into one of complete innocence. So much so you can almost feel him being genuine. But you know too well already how fake he can be. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans over you, placing his hands on the table along either side of you. You follow his eyes as they trail up and down your body. “In the meantime, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

[gogogodzilla]

𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟹𝟸, 𝙿𝙼 𝟶𝟻:𝟸𝟷:𝟻𝟹

Summary: You receive some unexpected news and have a drink masterlist ✩ ao3 ✩ wattpad ✩ previous chapter ✩

Gavin leans against the edge of your desk, taking in the wall of documents before him. Over the past few days, you’ve converted your office into an obsessive detective’s wet dream. Cork boards filled with pictures and tidbits of information from the case litter one side of your office, and stacks of files crowd the other. 

You lean back in your chair, surveying the results of your hard work. 

“What are we missing?” you ponder before picking up a stray case file on your desk. 

“We’re still waiting to hear back from the forensics unit about the DNA under that android’s nails,” Gavin answers without turning to face you. 

You set the file down. “You think we can get a lead from that?” 

“I think,” he says as he stands, “that it’s our only lead right now.” 

You lean back in your chair and rub your temples. “I just wish we could figure out a motive. Why in the hell would someone want to build their android, if that’s even what they’re doing?”

“It’s easy to get parts for one thing,” Gavin mentions as he rounds your desk and perches against the edge next to you. You try to ignore the way his leg brushing against yours makes your heart skip a beat. “You think someone at Cyberlife is involved?” 

You shrug, “That was my working theory initially, and I don’t see why that should change. An employee would know where to get the parts in the warehouse that was robbed a few months ago, and an employee would be someone with ‘advanced engineering skills,’ as Hayden put it.” 

Gavin meets your gaze, and his eyes soften for a second. “We’ll figure it out. You have good instincts and the best partner the DPD could offer.” 

A small smile forms as you look up at him, and, for a moment, you have hope. 

The brief moment of comfort is quickly severed by a knock on your office door. There’s barely enough time for Gavin to jump to his feet before the door opens.  

Jason Graff strolls into your office like he’s done countless times before. “Oh good, you’re still here,” he breathes, grinning as his gaze jumps between you and Gavin. 

You stand from your chair. “Officer Reed and I were just discussing the case he’s been working on,” you explain. 

“I can see that,” Jason grins as he motions to the various boards and files scattered around your office. 

“Is there something you need?” 

“I was hoping to speak to you in private, Doctor,” Jason requests, his gaze flicking to Gavin. 

You straighten, and uneasiness fills you. “Of course, sir.” 

Gavin gives you a small nod, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

He heads for the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. He shuts the door behind him, and you’re left alone with Jason. He takes a seat opposite of you, and motions for you to sit. 

“Your reports from the field have been incredibly insightful,” he praises as he leans back in his chair and adjusts his glasses. 

“Thank you, sir. I’m—”

“That being said,” he cuts you off with a pointed look, “we think it’s time to move into the fine-tuning stage of this little project we have you on. That means working with the engineers here to make sure the androids are fit for police work.” 

“But we haven’t solved the case yet. The person destroying Cyberlife property is still out there,” you point out.

“Yes, and it’s time to let the professionals handle this case, not you and some wannabe detective,” Jason stresses, huffing out a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, Officer Reed is a great cop, but that’s all he is.” 

A tightness formed in your throat as you looked at Jason. “We can’t just stop now,” you insist, your gaze hardening.  

“It’s not your job, sweetheart,” he groans, rising from his chair. You begin to tremble, and your heart pounds in your chest. Is this really happening? “Get this crap out of here by next week,” he says over his shoulder before exiting. 

You stare at the chair where Jason once sat. You clench your fists, the dull edge of your nails digging into the soft flesh of your palm. This can’t be happening. You’ve been working on this case for two goddamn months, and you’re not giving up when you’re this goddamn close. 

Your mind moves faster than your feet as you make your way to Gavin’s police cruiser. He leans against it, cigarette clasped between his fingers as he scrolls on his phone. He lifts his head at the sound of your hurried steps. Your features pinch in annoyance and he furrows his brow. You reach him, leaving only inches between you.

“What happened?” he questions, tossing his cigarette into the snow. He scans your features as you attempt to unscramble your thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair before looking up at him. “Have a drink with me,” you murmur, and it’s more of a command than a question. 

His mouth quirks up, “Don’t think Charlie is too eager to see you again.” 

“What I have is better than anything you’ll get at Charlie’s,” you say softly, grinning. “No offense.” 

Gavin barks out a laugh. “Shit, sweetheart. With what Cyberlife is paying you, I would hope you can afford the good stuff.” 

The drive back to your apartment is filled with a palpable energy that hums between the two of you. You nervously drum your fingers against your thigh, a maddening habit you picked up from Gavin. 

“So, I take it the talk didn’t go very well,” Gavin says as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and kills the engine. 

You throw open the passenger side door. “Less talking more walking,” you call before shutting the car door behind you. 

Once inside, the familiar comfort of your apartment does little to quell your nerves. You make a beeline for your cupboard, reaching for the good liquor you keep stashed away and two glasses to go with it. 

Gavin hangs his jacket on the back of one of the bar stools before taking a seat on your couch.

The only sound that fills your apartment is the clinking of the glasses against the counter and the trickle of bourbon as you pour yourself and Gavin a drink. You sink into the plush cushions of your couch and hand Gavin his drink. He nods his head, thanking you. 

You grab the remote off the coffee table in front of you and turn on the TV. The noise is a nice distraction from your muddled thoughts, and you take a sip of your drink. 

Gavin relaxes against the cushions, and his gaze fixes on you. “Alright, spill, sweetheart. You’ve been acting on edge ever since we left Cyberlife.”

You swirl the contents of your glass, watching the amber liquid slosh. “Graff is pulling me off of your case. He said it’s time for our project to move onto the next stage, which includes me making sure the androids are fit for the field.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Gavin snaps. “We’re this close to solving the case, and he wants to pull you off of it.”

He rises to his feet, grabs his drink, and begins pacing in front of your coffee table.

“I don’t like it either, but I don’t have a choice. Groff made it clear that this project takes priority over—” 

“Screw the project, and screw Graff!” Gavin cuts in, his voice raising with each word. “This is exactly why I hate working with you corporate types. All you care about is the end goal.” 

You stand, clenching your fists, “What do you expect me to do? Huh? I don’t have a choice.” 

“You always have a choice. You could fight for this. You could fight for this case,” he insists. 

You glare at him, “I haven’t even been there for six months, I’m not exactly in a position to make demands.” 

“What, then? You wipe your hands of this while more and more androids show up desecrated on the side of the street?” he questions, taking another step toward you. 

“That’s not fair.” 

“No,” he counters, “what’s not fair is having my fucking partner taken from me when we’re so close to solving the case we’ve been working on for months.”

Another step closer. You’re practically nose to nose, screaming at each other to see reason. 

“You think I want this? You think I want to be stuck behind a fucking desk while you’re out there finishing what we started?” you question incredulously. 

Tension lingers between you, both of you standing too close and too stubborn to back down. Gavin’s eyes flare in the dim light of your living room— anger, frustration, and something deeper you can’t discern. 

For a moment, neither of you speak, too caught up in your own arguments to even look at each other. Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath. 

Before either of you can think, Gavin grabs your arms and pulls you closer. Before you can even ask him what the hell he’s doing, his lips are crashing into yours. The taste of bourbon lingers on his lips— sweet, smoky, and utterly intoxicating. 

You press into him, your fingers tangling into his uniform shirt as you get lost in the sensation of him. He deepens the kiss, sliding his hands down to grasp your waist and tug you closer. His breath is hot against your skin, bourbon and something you can’t quite distinguish mixing into something that’s entirely him. Everything about him is tantalizing— his fingertips digging into your waist, the trace of cigarette smoke on his clothes, and the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters. 

Just as quickly as it began, it’s over. He pulls away, and you’re gasping for breath as your mind reels. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. Your eyes flutter open slowly.

His hands fall from your waist. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that manages to come out is a shuddering breath. He stares at you, eyes flicking back and forth almost as if searching for something. His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. Without another word, he steps away, grabs his jacket, and walks out the door. 

He leaves you standing breathless and alone. Your mind spins as the sound of your front door closing echoes throughout your apartment. Your fingers brush against your lips, the ghost of him still lingering. 

You throw back the rest of your drink, relishing the burn in the back of your throat. Anything to keep your mind off what the hell just happened. 

[bruisedboys]

steve blurbs!! yes!! maybe u could do some hurt/ comfort where reader has a very vivid nightmare and steve just tries to calm her down and bring her back to reality?? you’re the best thank u <33

lil baby blurb of protective bf steve!! I love him to bits

gn!reader

Steve is no stranger to nightmares.

Still, he’s surprised when you shake him awake, your fingers an iron grip on his shoulder.

“Steve,” you’re whispering, your voice cloudy with tears. “Steve.”

Steve blinks himself awake fast. He rolls over and sees your silhouette hovering over him.

“Babe, what’s—? Are you okay?” He sits up so fast it makes him dizzy. He ignores his throbbing head and instead takes your wrist in his hand. His fingers push into your pulse point. Your heart’s racing.

You give a great sob, a horrible, awful gasping noise that makes it sound like you can’t breathe. Steve panics, grabs your face in both hands like he can take some of whatever’s hurting you away. He would, if he could. He’d take it all.

It’s dark, he can barely see you, but your cheeks are hot and wet and more tears are coming in fast, dripping down your face and gushing over his fingers.

“Y/N?” Panic rises in Steve’s chest like bile. Any thoughts of sleep have been washed away by your distressed state and his need to make it better. “What’s the matter?”

You sniff, and Steve feels rather than sees you blink hard, another round of hot tears skipping over his hands.

“I … I had a bad dream,” you manage to get out. Your voice is all choppy and raw and it feels like a hot knife to Steve’s chest.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Steve releases your face and slides his arms around you, encircling you in a hold so tight it’s borderline bone crushing. You don’t mind, rather, you melt into it, your body going lax in his arms, face pressed into one side of his chest. You’re warm and you smell like you. Sweet. Sleepy. Steve rubs your back, hoping to ground you, to help you know that he’s real, and whatever you were dreaming about isn’t.

You’re still crying. Big gasping sobs, each one a punch to Steve’s gut. Your back shudders under his hands and he can feel your hot tears beginning to soak through the fabric his t-shirt.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers into your hair. He knows you know that, but he thinks you need to hear it out loud. “You’re okay, angel. I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t know how long he holds you, and he doesn’t care. He would hold you all night and more if he had to. Eventually your tears die down. Your breathing slows and your body stills. Steve knows you’re okay when you let out a lovely, long sigh, your chest pressing into his as you finally relax. Steve feels so relieved he could cry. He doesn’t, for your sake.

“D’you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, knowing you’ll probably say no.

You’re quiet as you answer. “No.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” Maybe in the morning.

Steve rubs careful, swooping lines onto your back, your t-shirt rising with his motions. Your bare skin is warm to touch, but still, goosebumps rise in his wake. His fingers push over the bumps of your spine, all the way up and then back down again. He’s pleasantly surprised when your arms push under his and loop around his waist. You pull yourself into him, practically in his lap, your face pushed into his chest.

Steve’s heart goes wild. He’s sure you can feel it. He let’s your t-shirt drop and strokes the back of your head with one hand. “You okay?”

You hum, a tired but pretty noise. Your nose presses into the space between his pecs.

“Should we lie down?”

You sound dead beat when you whisper, “Yeah.”

Steve lays you both down and doesn’t miss a beat in pulling you into him, one arm hooked under you and the other resting over his chest. Your thigh slots between his, half of you on top of half of him. Your head rests on his shoulder, facing him, and he can feel your warm breaths as they wash over his jaw and chin. He takes one of your hands in his, presses his thumb into your palm as the rest of his fingers curl around your wrist. He works his thumb into your palm in the way he knows you like.

“Get some rest, angel,” he tells you gently. “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. He’s never letting you go.

[danikamariewrites]

Hey I’m not sure if you are still taking requests so if not I’m really sorry and you can totally just ignore this. But I was wondering if you could write a Mor x Reader where the reader has a panic attack and Mor is helping to soothe her.

I love your writing so much, you are incredibly talented and I’m always in such awe of how creative you are! ❤️

Hold Your Hand

Mor x reader

A/n: thank you so much anon, that’s very kind of you to say❤️❤️

Warnings: anxiety, some angst

The pulsing music in Rita’s finally got to your head. Everything felt too tight on your body. You had never liked bars or clubs. You had only agreed to come out tonight because you were feeling confident in yourself.

Your feelings for Mor had finally grown to a point where you couldn’t ignore them. You wanted to tell her tonight but the words caught in your throat every time you went to tell her tonight.

Not only would your words die out but you kept getting interrupted. If it wasn’t you then it was a male offering her a drink, or Feyre pulling her on the dance floor.

Coming out of the bathroom you started to walk back to the table. People bumped into you the whole way back, overwhelming your senses, making you feel hot all over again. Your heart started beating erratically and your palms began to sweat.

You couldn’t do it. You were starting to shut down. You couldn’t tell Mor how much you liked her. You had to get home or you were surely going to die.

Mor was watching you, silently begging you to come back over. She wanted to spend time with you tonight but the look on your face told her you weren’t enjoying yourself. A glazed look came over your eyes as you walked out of Rita’s.

She quickly followed you outside into the cool night. Mor whipped her head around looking for you. When the blonde finally spotted you, you were pressed against an alley wall.

Your eyes were screwed shut, your chest was rising and falling rapidly. Mor slowly approached you holding out her hand for yours. “Y/n,” she whispered, “can you open your eyes for me sweetie?” They slowly open with a wince. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t—I,” you trail off, words failing you. Mor gently grabbed your hand pulling you to her body. “I want to go home.” You mumble into her chest. The world fell away as she winnowed you to your room in the River house. Mor backed you up to your bed helping you sit down.

“Can I get you anything?” You nodded, “water.” Your voice barely above a whisper. Mor rushed to your bathroom to fill up the cup next to your sink. Coming back she held the glass up to your lips. You gulp down the cool liquid as you calm down.

The quiet and cool air of your room helping your heart rate slow. You could hear. Or breathing with you which helped more than she’d know. Your eyes fluttered between her and the floor. Now that you were alone with her your courage was faltering.

Mor ran a hand through your hair, her nails lightly scratching your scalp. You lean into her touch as a small smile rubs at your lips. “What else can I get you? Are you ok?” Swallowing audibly you force your question out. “Will you stay with me…tonight?”

Mor’s eyes seemed to sparkle at your request. “Of course I will sweetie. I’ll always stay with you.” Mor climbs into bed with you and you both lay on your pillow, noses practically touching. Mor gently strokes your nose with her pointer finger. Your eyes slowly start to close as the exhaustion from your anxiety attack sets in.

Before you drifted off you felt Mor’s lips gently touch your forehead and a soft, “goodnight y/n.”

[xtaketwox]

I'm Betting It All On You

Summary: Lucien is tired of living in limbo. He has a proposition for Elain. One kiss and if she still doesn't want him, he'll leave her alone forever.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Read on AO3

@elucienweekofficial

“I have a proposition.”

Elain looked up from the rosebush she was pruning, a basket of flowers at her feet. Her heart—the traitor—sped up at the sound of his voice, the familiar swooping sensation hitting her stomach the moment she looked at him. He took a stepped closer when she held his gaze, and her breath caught as the sunlight glinted off his hair.

“A proposition?” she asked, ignoring her body’s response to her mate.

Lucien took another step towards her, and if she hadn’t seen him clench and unclench his fist, she might have thought he was perfectly at ease. 

“I—we can’t continue to live in limbo like this.” Lucien stopped two feet away, forcing Elain to tilt her head up. “We need to settle our bond, one way or the other.”

She froze, shock beating like a pulse through her body. In the years since the bond had snapped, they had both abided by an unspoken agreement to pretend the bond didn’t exist. Lucien had stopped giving her gifts, had stopped seeking her out at all. Elain didn’t know what prompted his hesitancy to get to know her, and she hadn’t questioned it. Out of all the bad luck their bond had brought her, at least Lucien had felt as disinclined to pursue her as she was to pursue him. She couldn’t fathom what would prompt him to disregard that unspoken agreement now. 

“What are you proposing?” It was all she could think to say, though she was already prepared to turn down whatever suggestion Lucien made. She wasn’t being intentionally cruel by neither accepting nor breaking the bond; she might not want Lucien, but that didn’t mean she wanted to risk him going insane from a broken bond. 

Lucien’s gaze dropped to her lips for a prolonged moment, stealing the breath from her chest.

“We kiss.” 

Whatever Elain had expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. 

“No.”

Lucien sighed, as if she had reacted exactly as he expected. “It will help us decide if we’re even compatible.”

“I already know we are,” Elain said, crossing her arms and looking away. It was Lucien’s turn to be surprised, reeling back as if she had slapped him. “Everyone knows mating bonds manipulate people, making people who don’t even like each other unable to keep their hands to themselves. A kiss between us would do nothing.”

Lucien mirrored her stance, crossing his arms, his lips pressed into a firm line. “If the bond manipulated people, then we wouldn’t have spent years ignoring each other. Your logic is flawed.” He tilted his head, considering her. “Or are you afraid?”

Irritation burned hot in her chest, and by the gleam in his eye, Lucien knew it. She refused to rise to the bait, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’m not afraid. I only know that kissing won’t prove anything.”

Lucien took yet another step toward her, hardly a foot separating them. She tilted her head back further, but her wide-brimmed hat kept her from seeing his eyes. Lucien reached up and pulled the hat from her head, letting it drop into the ground beside them. Elain started to reach for it, but Lucien grasped her wrist to stop her. 

It was all she could do not to shudder at the feel of his skin against the sensitive underside of her wrist. The bob of his throat signaled Lucien was equally affected. When he spoke, his deep voice was hushed.

“If we kiss and you still don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll leave you alone forever.”

Elain’s mouth popped up as she sucked in a breath. She could hear how quickly Lucien’s heart was beating. He was gambling big on a single kiss. 

“Forever?” 

Lucien’s thumb swiped over her wrist, sending goosebumps up her arm. “For as long as you never want to see me, you won’t. I’ll refuse all of Feyre’s holiday invitations, report to Rhysand in the Illyrian Steppes, and you’ll never have to feel me again. You can even reject the bond if you choose.”

The thought of never seeing Lucien again immediately filled Elain with dread, but she forced the feelings down, sure that it was just the bond’s emotional manipulation. She wanted to make decisions about her own life and who she loved. She didn’t want a bond telling her who she was supposed to love. If it were known that she and Lucien had decided to reject their bond, perhaps she could still find love some day. As it stood, the fae held too much respect for mating bonds to agree to courting a mated female. 

Elain lifted her chin. “Very well.”

The corners of Lucien’s mouth drew up in a cheshire grin, prompting Elain to put a hand on his chest to stop his immediate descent. 

“Wait. We need to establish the rules.”

Lucien’s eyebrows rose. “What are you suggesting.”

Elain took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when the scent of spiced apples and cypress nearly overwhelmed her. Her face heated at having to speak so frankly about kissing, but she wanted to make sure Lucien took no liberties. 

“Closed-mouth only and your hands do not stray off my waist.”

Lucien snorted. “No.” At her affronted look, he clarified. “I will keep my hands from straying, but I refuse to agree to nothing more than a chaste kiss.”

“Why?” She stepped back, trying to remove his tantalizing scent from her nose. She needed to keep a clear head.

“A peck on the lips isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

Elain crossed her arms, her suspicions confirmed. “Accomplish? I thought this was purely educational, but it seems you came with an agenda.”

Fire burned behind Lucien’s eye. “Yes, I did. I came to prove to you and me both that we’re meant to be. I’m tired of living my life not knowing if or when this bond will be resolved, and if I’m going to spend the rest of my miserable existence without my mate, then I’m going to at least know what she tastes like.”

Suddenly the sun felt too hot, her clothes too tight. As if he could see the effect his words had on her, Lucien stepped back into her space. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, but if you truly want to convince yourself of your indifference, then you’ll let me kiss you how I’ve been dreaming of it.”

Elain knew he was mocking her, but again, she refused to rise to the bait. Let him think what he wanted. If it accomplished a lifetime free of this bond, then she could ignore her baser urges for a few moments.

“Fine.”

Lucien blinked, clearly not expecting her to agree. 

“If you keep your hands on my waist—”

“Or your face.”

Elain huffed. “What?”

Lucien raised his hand and cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. “I want to be able to touch your face.”

Elain’s breath caught, her gut clenching as desire nearly overwhelmed her at his soft touch. 

“Fine,” she rasped. “You keep your hands on my waist or face and I’ll agree to let you kiss me—on the lips—however you want.”

Lucien’s eye gleamed as he nodded, lowering his mouth to hers. “Agreed,” he murmured, just before brushing his lips against hers. 

Elain knew it was a mistake at that first touch. She nearly moaned, her breath catching as warmth spread through her, sending a pulse straight down between her thighs. Lucien used his hand to tilt her head, his other hand grasping her waist to pull her closer as his tongue brushed against the seam of her mouth. Elain opened for him, nearly melting into him at the first swipe of his tongue into her mouth. 

This was nothing like kissing Graysen. There had been love between them, and even a modicum of passion, but it paled in comparison to the raging inferno that now tore through Elain, chanting for her to grab the front of Lucien’s shirt and press herself closer. 

Lucien groaned, the sound vibrating through her, telling her he was just as affected as she was. This knowledge drove her even closer to the brink of insanity and she did fist his shirt and press herself fully against him. Lucien’s hand slid from her jaw into her hair, and Elain was so focused on what his tongue was doing that she didn’t even realize he had already broken the rules. His other hand slid to her lower back as he deepened the kiss, pulling a groan out of Elain. 

She should have realized that a male who had been alive for centuries would know how to kiss. She should have remembered Lucien was known for his cunning. He had known his experience far outweighed hers, had probably known he could sway her with a kiss. 

She should have insisted it remain chaste. 

When Lucien pulled back, Elain whimpered and tried to follow, her eyes widening in horror when she realized what she was doing. Lucien smirked down at her. 

“Well?” His voice was low and gravelly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Am I spending the rest of my life alone?”

Elain closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from staring at Lucien’s face while she gathered her thoughts. The scent of spiced apples and cypress were heady in her nose, her nostrils flaring with each inhale. She heard two hearts racing and was unable to distinguish hers from his. 

Gods, that had been better than she could have imagined. All she wanted was to keep going, but she didn’t trust herself to know whether she truly wanted it or if the bond was forcing her to feel things. She didn’t want regrets in the morning. 

Without opening her eyes, she whispered, “How do I know it’s real? What if it’s just the bond?”

Lucien’s hand slid back to her jaw, his thumb brushing her lips. “I suppose there isn’t a way, but I think you’re misinformed over how mating bonds work.”

Elain opened her eyes, confused. 

Lucien’s gaze was on her lips as he spoke. “A bond can’t manufacture feelings. It can perhaps push people into feeling sexual attraction, but I think you’re forgetting that the bond is woven into the fabric of who we are. We’ve been mates since before you were born. I had to wait, but the bond was always there. It doesn’t appear out of thin air. Just because it snapped after you were Made, doesn’t mean that’s when it was created.”

Elain could only blink at him as she digested this information. He waited patiently, though his stare grew more heated as time went on. Finally, Elain grasped his wrist, pulling his hand from her face and taking several steps back.

“This isn’t a no, but I would like time to think about what you said and decide what I’m feeling.”

Disappointment and a sadness that tugged at Elain’s heart flashed through Lucien’s face, but he nodded. “Of course.”

He turned to leave, but Elain grabbed his arm to halt him. When he looked back, she said, “I’ll meet you tomorrow at your apartment here in Velaris for dinner.” She phrased it as a statement, but there was a question in her tone.

Lucien nodded, his relief palpable that she wasn’t going to make him wait indefinitely. “Very well.”

Elain dropped his wrist, ignoring her desire to stop him from leaving as she watched him walk away. She would spend the next twenty-four hours thinking about what she wanted, and one way or another, tomorrow things would be settled.

* * *

It took Elain twice as long as it should have to reach Lucien’s apartment the following evening. She had changed her mind halfway there several times and then again on her way back to the river house. 

She had slept very little the night before. Lucien’s words played on a loop in her mind and when she did finally sleep, her dreams had followed that kiss to an erotic conclusion. She had woken both exhausted and body throbbing. It had taken only a few swipes of her fingers for an orgasm to shatter through her. Then she had made sure to scrub every inch of herself thoroughly in the bath, well aware that everyone would be able to scent her arousal. 

Standing in front of Lucien’s door, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and knocked. The door opened immediately, as if he had been waiting right beside it. 

“Hello,” Elain said, nerves making her voice breathy. 

Lucien stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. “Please come in.” 

Elain twisted her fingers together as she stepped through the door into the space. She had never been—though she had always known where Lucien’s apartment was located—and looked around, impressed with the space. She followed Lucien into the living room, the kitchen overlooking the room. It wasn’t large, but it had a cozy feel to it. She couldn’t help but notice the Autumn influences throughout the space, decorated in shades of orange, brown, and green. 

A small table, just big enough for two, stood in the space between the kitchen and living room. There were two place settings and as she noticed them, the scents from the kitchen hit her nose.

“You cook?” Elain asked.

Lucien huffed a laugh. “No. Not well anyway. I picked up something from a restaurant near here. I hope you like fish.” 

It struck Elain then how little they knew about one another. “I love fish.”

Lucien’s shoulders sagged in obvious relief and Elain realized then how nervous he was to have her here. 

“Would you like to talk before or after dinner?”

Elain forced herself to stop fidgeting as she squared her shoulders. “I think it’s best to get it over with.”

Lucien froze, horror dawning on his face. Elain immediately took a step forward, reaching for him. “My answer is yes.”

His mouth parted and he blinked several times at her, as if needing a moment to process. “…yes?”

Elain took yet another step towards him, tilting her chin up. “After you left yesterday, I requested information on mating bonds from Nesta’s friend Gwyn. I also talked to Rhys. I would have talked to Feyre as well, but I didn’t want her to get her hopes up.”

Lucien was hardly breathing. “What did you discover?”

Elain shrugged. “More or less what you told me. I’m not one hundred percent sure I agree that mating bonds aren’t manipulative, but it’s also not quite as mindless as I assumed. Rhys also pointed out that strong sexual attraction happens to people without mating bonds.” 

Lucien closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. When he opened them again, his gaze was so hot that Elain’s stomach flipped. 

“What do you want to do then?” he asked. 

Elain dropped her gaze to his mouth. “I think…I’d like to kiss you again.”

Lucien immediately yanked on her hand, pulling her flush against him as he dipped his head, pressing his lips hungrily against hers. He dropped her hand, sliding his hand to the small of her back, his other hand tilting her jaw.

Elain whimpered as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Without realizing what she even planned to do, she reached under his shirt, needing to feel his skin against her hands. 

Lucien shuddered, breaking the kiss and leaning his head against hers to whisper, “Fuck.”

Elain couldn’t help but agree in her head as her fingers climbed the ridges of his abdomen. “Kiss me,” she whispered, needing his mouth on her again. 

Lucien complied, and Elain gasped when he placed his hands on her waist and walked her backward until her back hit the wall, his tongue doing delicious things in her mouth as he did so. 

Elain thought she might spontaneously combust. Lucien brushed his thumbs along her ribs, but kept his hands from straying anywhere else, per their agreement the previous day. 

Elain broke the kiss only long enough to say, “Please touch me.”

Lucien growled into her mouth as his hands slid up, gently squeezing her breasts through her dress. Her knees nearly gave out, a jolt of arousal hitting her clit at the contact. She could feel his smirk against her lips as he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her upright. 

Gods, he barely touched her and she was about to lose her mind. 

Elain slid her hands under his shirt again, raking her nails lightly down his stomach and then around and up his spine. Lucien groaned, pulling Elain closer so that she could feel the hard length of him against her stomach. He kissed his way from her mouth, along her jaw, to her ear. 

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine. 

He continued kissing a trail down her throat and across her collar bone, sucking gently. Elain felt feverish, her clothes suddenly too tight. Lucien kissed the tops of her breasts and she wanted to scream at him to hurry up. 

As if he had heard her plea, he pulled the fabric of her dress down. He leaned back, his gaze hungry as he stared at her breasts. Just when Elain was contemplating shoving his face against her, he lowered his head, his tongue laving across one nipple before sucking it into his mouth. 

Elain gasped, her knees actually giving out now. Lucien deftly caught her, scooping her into his arms and walking toward his bedroom, dinner forgotten. Elain plunged both hands into his hair, grasping tightly as she kissed him again. 

Lucien set her on his bed and laid between her spread legs, immediately returning his mouth to her breast. He knew what he was doing, every touch sending jolts of arousal south, until Elain thought she might combust. 

Now that he had her in his bed, Lucien seemed in no hurry, his mouth teasing its way from one breast to the other. His hands dropped to her legs, bunching the material of her skirt before slowly pushing it up. Elain shivered when his fingers skimmed across her hips. He pulled back long enough for her to sit up so he could undo the buttons of her dress and pull it over her head. 

Lucien’s pupil blew wide at the sight of her in nothing but underwear, his breath ragged. Elain grasped the edge of his shirt and pulled up. Lucien helped her, pulling it off and tossing it away. Elain’s mouth watered as she took in his bronzed torso, the dips and valleys of his abdomen begging for her tongue.

Before she could act on that desire, Lucien gently pushed her back down. He towered over her, his eyes moving rapidly over her, as if he didn’t know where to look first. Elain, not used to being so on display, crossed her arms over her chest.

Lucien shook his head, gently grabbing her wrists. 

“Please let me look at you,” he breathed. He waited until her soft nod before pulling her arms away. His breath caught and she watched, fascinated, as he shuddered above her. 

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was so low, she wondered if he had meant to say the words out loud. 

She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply said, “So are you.” 

His eye snapped to hers, and she smiled at the shock on his face. “Surely, you’ve been told before how beautiful you are.”

Something that looked like grief crossed his expression before he shook his head. “Not often since I lost my eye.” 

Elain sat up, Lucien leaning back to give her space. She reached up to caress his face, brushing her fingers lightly over the scars running from his brow to his jaw. He closed his eyes, his hands grasping her waist, as if he needed something to steady himself. 

“I didn’t know you before,” she said, glancing towards his good eye, “but the moment I first saw you, I thought you were the most handsome man or fae I had ever seen.” Lucien swallowed, seeming unable to talk, so Elain continued, tracing the scars up and down his face. “It scared me, how much I wanted you, especially—” she cut off, not wanting to mar the moment with the reminder of her ex-fiance. She grabbed both sides of his face. “I need you to know, I didn’t stay away because I wasn’t attracted to you.” His breathing grew more rapid. “I stayed away because I couldn’t stand to be around you and not touch you. I…I didn’t trust that what I wanted was real, but I always wanted you, Lucien.”

Lucien immediately pulled her close, crushing his lips to hers. This kiss was like a firestorm, full of heat and a swirl of emotions flowing through the bond. Elain wasn’t sure which were her own and which belonged to Lucien. They had occasionally felt each other’s emotions through the bond, but had both learned to build a wall to their mind. Now, it would seem those walls had been crumbled to dust. 

Elain pulled away with a gasp, Lucien trailing kisses back down her jaw, neck, across her collar bone. He laid her back as he kissed and sucked his way down the valley of her breasts. She fisted the sheets at her side and shoved her chest up, silently begging him to show her breasts attention. Lucien smiled against her skin as he ignored the silent plea and continued kissing lower. 

Elain’s dream from that morning flashed briefly through her head, and her whole body jerked at the memory. Just when he was almost where she needed him, he pulled back, a feral grin on his face when she whined in protest. 

He skimmed his fingers down her leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, lifting her ankle and pressing a kiss on it. He trailed kisses up her calf, the inside of her knee, gently sucking as he did so. Elain started shaking when he reached the inside of her thigh, silently begging him to give her relief. 

Once again, he pulled away before reaching where Elain wanted him. He pulled her underwear down, tossing it aside and pulling her leg over his shoulder before shimming his fingers down the other leg and repeating the process. By the time he was sucking on the inside of her thigh, Elain felt taut as a bowstring, her legs already shaking. 

She was just about to resort to begging when he finally lowered his mouth, swiping his tongue up through her folds and sucking her clit in his mouth. Elain bowed off the bed, releasing the sheets in favor of gripping Lucien’s hair to hold him in place. He placed a hand on her abdomen to hold her down as he licked and sucked. 

It took almost no time before Elain pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream as she came, stars bursting behind her closed eyes. Lucien pulled her hand away, kissing her though her orgasm. She didn’t know how he knew that’s what she needed, but she immediately gripped his hair to hold him there. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. 

It wasn’t close enough. Elain wrapped her legs around his waist, irritated when she realized Lucien still wore his pants. He pulled away without her having to ask, shoving his pants and underwear down and kicking them away before laying back between her legs. 

Elain immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, a satisfied sound leaving her as she felt the length of him against her skin. 

“I need you,” she whispered, kissing him desperately. “I want all of you.”

Lucien shuddered, pulling away just far enough to line himself up before slowly pushing in. 

Elain gasped at the stretch, closing her eyes. Lucien stilled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Let me know if I hurt you.” 

Elain shook her head, unable to form the words to tell him it felt wonderful, right, like this was how they were meant to be. “Go,” was all she managed to say.

Lucien kissed her again as he pushed further in, going too slowly. Elain wrapped her legs around him, pushing her heels into his ass and tilting her hips to drive him completely in. He cursed and Elain smiled at the wave of satisfaction that coursed through her. 

Fire stared at her from Lucien’s eye as he ghosted his lips against her and whispered, “You’ll pay for that.”

“I certainly hope so,” she whispered back with a boldness she didn’t realize she possessed. 

Lucien crushed his lips back to hers as he snapped his hips, swallowing Elain’s gasp. He was everywhere, his mouth on hers, his hands roaming over her skin, his hips snapping a fiery pace. Just like his kissing, Lucien’s centuries of experience were evident, and rather than jealousy at the thought of females of the past, Elain wanted to find them all and thank them for their service. 

She had never felt so unhinged, her emotions completely unbridled. The bond hummed between them, emotions flying back and forth so quickly that it was impossible to distinguish who was feeling what, or if they were both feeling exactly the same thing. 

He shifted his angle and Elain cried out as he hit a spot inside that made her vision blur. She felt another orgasm coiling in her stomach, drawing tighter with every thrust, until she thought she might snap in two. She whimpered when Lucien changed angles again, leaving her on the precipice. 

He leaned down, his breath hot on her ear as he whispered, “What do you want, Elain?”

She struggled to form words, her brain too full of the sensations he was dragging out of her. 

He kissed right below her ear and his voice sounded strained. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” she finally managed to say, her own hands roaming over his skin, wanted to be closer still, wanting to fuse their bodies together. 

Lucien obliged, skimming his hand from her face down between them, lightly circling her clit. 

It wasn’t enough. “More,” she gasped.

Lucien smiled as he sped up his fingers, pressing harder. Elain began shaking again, every muscle in her body pulling tight as he wound her higher and higher, his hips snapping in time with the swipes of his fingers. Just when she thought her muscles might snap, Lucien hit that spot inside her and she screamed, her orgasm rolled over her. 

She just barely registered Lucien’s own scream as he went rigid above her before he collapsed, only barely managing to keep himself from crushing her. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her close, his head on her chest. 

They laid in silence, both gasping for breath, Elain still twitching from her orgasm. She idly ran her fingers through his hair while his arms squeezed her close almost to the point of pain. 

“I—that’s never happened before.”

Lucien raised his head, his eyes wide as he stared at her. She almost laughed when his mechanical eye started whirring.

“What do you mean?” she asked. She marveled at how comfortable, how right she felt. There was no post-sex awkwardness, no self-conscious desire to cover back up now that the act was over. Instead, she felt like she might never want to move, to spend the rest of her days doing nothing but comb her fingers through her mate’s ruby-colored hair. 

“It’s never been that intense, that—good.”

Elain couldn’t help her smile at hearing that. “Oh?”

Lucien laughed at the look of pride on her face, reaching up to flick her nose. Her smile dropped, replaced by awe.

“What?” Lucien asked, his gaze traveling between her eyes frantically. 

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” she said. 

Palpable relief swept over him and he chuckled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

“When I was around you, I was usually too busy trying to give you space to hear anything anyone said to me.” He flashed a grin. “I’m actually quite charming.”

Elain rolled her eyes, biting her lip against her return grin. 

She panicked when he pulled away, but relaxed when he lay on his back and pulled her half on top of him. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his chest. He slid his leg between hers, one hand resting on her hip as the other gently skimmed up and down her back. She wondered if he needed the closeness as much as she did. 

They lay there silently, soaking up the silence and each other’s presence. Eventually, Elain sat up, biting her lip as she looked down at Lucien. 

“Now what?”

Lucien raised his eyebrows. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“What are we?” she replied. “Does this mean we accepted the bond? Are we courting? Are we going to remain apart and occasionally sleep together?”

Lucien snarled at that last remark, and something in Elain’s chest eased. She watched him swallow, noting the way he tensed up, as if preparing for her rejection. 

“We can be whatever you like.” 

She watched him through narrow eyes. “What would you like?”

He was unable to hide the panic in his expression fast enough. Elain cupped his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I just want to know what you want.”

His gaze felt like it was peering into her soul, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. “I want everything,” he finally whispered. “I want to be where you are or have you where I am. I want a mating ceremony. I want a wedding if that’s what you want. I want a house to call our own. I want—” he stopped short, deciding against whatever he had planned to say. 

Elain smiled. “I want children someday too.” 

His eyes widened at her response. “You—”

Elain kissed his peck, setting her chin on his chest. “I want all of it. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

Lucien’s breath whooshed out and before she knew what was happening, he had her on her back. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Elain grinned as a thrill of excitement made her shiver. 

“Do your worst, mate.”

Lucien’s answering grin was feline.

[thedeathdeelers]

definitely not (super loosely) based on personal experience 2 weeks ago but like. juke randomly sitting next to each other on the plane >

it’s luke’s millionth flight and the boys are on their way to another city for yet another gig (sunset curve doing well they flying) but it’s only julie’s like 5th (or 100th time- irrational fears are irrational for a reason) time or soemthing. so understandably she’s nervous as hell. especially about the turbulence (and yes ray she knows it’s totally normal and is aware that it’s just like a car driving over potholes or an uneven street but it still freaks her out blame the anxiety)

julie’s kind of found a way to help her through the anxiety though: talk to literally anyone within her direct vicinity to distract herself from the bumpy flight. and usually it’s a friendly old man, or a woman in her mid-50s; and julie’s been pretty lucky with how friendly everyone is and how willing they are to help, and will be forever thankful to them

but the problem is, this time ‘round her neighbour is a super cute guy who’s kinda making her just as nervous as the accelerating plane that’s about to take off and julie’s starting to rethink her strategy..

maybe she can just do this herself-

the plane lurches slightly to the left as it leaves solid ground, the gusts of wind outside making it hard for the pilot to keep it as steady as julie would like.

she grips the seat armrests, tries to keep her eyes on the outside world through her tiny window, but her heart won’t slow down and she feels like she’s about to throw up-

“hey so um,” julie whips her head to the side, cringing slightly when she sees the guy sat next to her had his eyes already closed. “do you- do you mind if i just talk to you whenever there’s a bit of turbulence or uh-” julie swallows against the rising panic as the plane continues to shake from side to side the longer they fly through the clouds. “it’s just i- i-panic-when-there’s-turbulence-and-talking-can-sometimes-help-me-stay-distracted-but-it’s-fine-if-you-want-to-sleep-i’m-so-sorry-to-bother-you-maybe-just-ignore-everything-i-just-said.” julie rushes through that sentence in one breath, her heart ready to beat out of her chest as her eyes flick back to stare out the window.

she doesn’t dare to look back at her neighbour, too embarrassed and too panicked to even consider the situation she’s currently in.

okay julie, deep breath. this is totally normal, it’s totally fine. look at all the people sitting around you half asleep, completely relaxed. it’s fine, it’ll be alri-

the plane dips down and back up, making julie’s palms sweat and any thoughts of reassurance fly out her mind.

she closes her eyes shut, only to immediately snap them wide open again, gaze back to being glued to the clouds still surrounding them.

she doesn’t know what to do anymore, eyes scanning any hope of seeing the grassy fields below or maybe even a hint of an outline of land — anything she can focus on that isn’t a white haze.

and just as another considerable bout of turbulence hits, julie feels a warm hand coming to rest over hers, accompanied a second later by a low, gentle voice.

“hey, you’re good. i’m- i’m luke. what’s your name?”

julie turns her head at the voice, eyes tracing up from his hand resting on hers, all the way up to his worried gaze.

she can’t help but stare for a second, mind momentarily distracted by his hazel eyes.

“uh- i’m-” julie stops when her voice falters for a second, then clears her throat and tries again. “i’m julie. i’m really sorry for the way i uh- introduced myself earlier.” julie tries for a sheepish smile, but feels it turning into a grimace when she feels another substantial dip beneath her. she reflexively turns her head to stare out the window again, only to stop mid-way when she hears her neighbour — luke — speak up again.

“nah, that’s fine, no need to apologise. i get it. my buddy reggie used to be terrified of flying.”

“used to?”

“yeah we uh,” it’s only when he pulls his hand away to self-consciously rub at the back of his head does julie realise he had still been holding her hand. “we kinda fly a lot now that we’re getting a decent amount of gigs. we’re a band, sunset curve?”

julie thinks the name sounds familiar, but she can’t really trust her brain to function properly at the moment. she smiles at luke apologetically, shaking her head once.

“let me guess though,” julie let’s her eyes roam down the rest of luke’s top half, eyes lingering only for a second on his ridiculously exposed arms before landing on his calloused fingers. she’s about to look back up when she notices little smudges of ink colouring the tips of his forefinger and thumb.

ah, there it is.

“you….play guitar? and maybe hmm..write some of the songs?”

luke’s eyes light up at her words, the easy grin popping up on his face blinding her for a second.

jeez he was cute.

“how’d you guess?” julie smiles at his excitement, watching him as he sits up a little straighter.

“let’s just say…a fellow musician’s hunch?” julie shrugs. “something about you reminds me of someone.”

“you a musician? what d’you play?”

julie smiles sadly at him. “i used to sing and play the piano. now i kind of just,” julie‘a gaze shifts from his to the seat in front of her. “listen to music.”

she can practically feel his curiosity flowing out of him next to her, but is pleasantly surprised at his restraint.

“what kinda music you listen to?”

julie turns to answer, but freezes when another bad shake forces her to close her eyes.

she takes in a deep breath — in, out, in, out.

“i kind of listen to a bit of everything,” luke says, as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “but i try to focus more on whatever genre i’m trying to channel in my songs whenever i’m working on a new album.”

she feels him rest his warm hand over hers again, gently squeezing.

“this okay?” he asks quietly.

julie nods, eyes slowly easing open again.

“but yeah i like to think i’m pretty open-minded when it comes to all genres of music, although reggie kinda tests that when he slips in his country songs in my journal. like i get it? but maybe it’s just not for me? right now? i can see how i can get inspired by country in the future maybe for an album way way way down the line, but like. not now. but alex, our drummer, recently started getting into kpop and some of the arrangements i’m really digging so i’m thinking maybe testing that out…” he continues talking about experimenting with music, and all julie can do is smile at his attempt at distracting her. the least she can do is partake in this conversation.

“i listen to a bit of everything too,” she says, turning to smile at him. “my mom raised me on the classics, but always made sure i gave every genre a fair shot. she was a big, big fan of music.” julie pauses for a second, then continues. “she was my main inspiration when it came to writing and performing music. she was my driving force, you know?”

julie sees the moment the curiosity in luke’s eyes turns into sympathy as understanding finally dawns on him.

he smiles and nods at her, gently nudging her to go on.

and for the rest of the flight, julie finds herself opening up about her music and her struggles and her mom for the first time to what should technically be a complete stranger. some turbulence still hit during the flight, making her stop to quickly stare out the window, but luke was always there, squeezing her hand in support and finding something to say to get her to turn back to him.

at one point nearing the last stretch of their journey, julie chances a peak outside her window, only to be pleasantly surprised to see the sun shining uninterrupted through clear blue skies, with never-ending fields of green down below.

she smiles at the view, even laughs quietly at herself.

the clouds were finally clearing up.

and for the first time since julie started flying and speaking to strangers on planes, she may or may not have saved her new emotional support passenger’s number. and followed him on instagram.

and giggled a little when he messaged her the second they walked away from each other at the airport.

yeah, maybe flying might come a little easier to her from now on.

and maybe, just maybe, music will, too.

[crystallizedkingdoms]

the thing about explorers is:

In 1492, Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Alex closed his eyes and went ashore.

wc: 1,492 (yes, intentional and cheesy)

you can also read this on ao3 <3

You are lying on the floor across from a beautiful boy named Michael. You’re in a dingy red sleeping bag that you have slept inside countless times while Michael sleeps on top of a blue air mattress, facing your direction, but not looking at you. His eyes are closed and his eyelashes look cute even in darkness. He is beautiful, and you can only look at him across the sea.

How many times have you done this exact thing? Countless, surely. Your sleepovers with Michael are an event you have looked forward to for years. Since the first sleepover you had with him, only a month after he moved in, you’ve looked forward to the next. You try to ignore your sister right behind him. You try to ignore her arm wrapped around his waist. You just try to slow your breathing and look at Michael.

Michael’s shoulder rises and falls with every breath he takes. His lips are parted ever so slightly and you have to force your eyes to not stare at them because last time you did you couldn’t handle the thoughts that came afterward. His pretty brown hair is a mess from sleeping, but really, when is it not a little messy? You try not to delve too deep about how you know what it looks like all the time. You just keep staring.

A great blue sea rushes between you and the steady land you wish so desperately to claim. Churning waves and deep blue water keep you distant. Your eyes glance down, they stare down the depths, and you catch a hint of something moving down there and you tear your eyes away from it. No, no, you can’t explore that. You can’t, you won’t. 

You look up at Michael and he has not woken up. He is on his blue air mattress with messy hair and parted lips and he is drifting away. You overheard it, his father speaking to your mother in hushed tones. You can feel it in your sister’s half-packed bags and unsure sighs. Most importantly, you see it in his eyes and the way he looks down at you and speaks to you nicer and actually cares about the things you say now. Michael is drifting far, far away, to a land you can never claim. He is beautiful, and you can only look at him from across the sea.

What can be said? What can be done? You can not go forward with him. The distance is vast in every way possible. Your chest aches for your only best friend in the entire world and he has set his sails. Your chest— no, even you can admit that it’s your heart even if it is so scary to think of it that way— your heart cries out for your Michael as he gets ready to sail the ocean blue.

You bring your legs closer to your body. This sleeping bag is getting too small for you. You feel trapped as you take in all of Michael’s features. God, why can’t you stop staring at him? Why does his face make your lips ache, why does his resting body make your arms twitch? Why has your body grown far too big for you to feel comfortable, but not big enough to hold him as you so desire?

You shut your eyes tight and bury yourself deeper into the sleeping bag. You try to banish the thought that rocks your ship. The unspoken thing from the depths below, buried by your own two hands, brushes up against you and you have to beat it back down again. You curl up even closer to your own body, you clench your eyes so tight that they sting. You know if you open them again, lay your sight on Michael’s sleeping face, then it will come back again. Your own best friend is leaving you and you can’t even look at him. What cruelty.

You feel the rocking again, don’t you, Alex? Even with your eyes closed and your hands desperately trying to beat it down, you hear the roaring waves and feel them beating you back. Water spills into your sleeping bag, it drags you down its watery depths, but you keep your eyes closed. You refuse to explore. You refuse to even notice.

You can’t keep doing this, Alex. You have to come up for air eventually. Your lungs are screaming, your eyelids are heavy, the water is flowing.

You suck in some air. Your lungs fill with sweet oxygen and you imagine it is Michael filling them. The thought makes you nauseous, your disgust feels novel, but you have had this thought before, haven’t you? 

You are exploring.

Your eyes fly open. Strain releases from your eyelids, and your pupils adjust to the pitch black interior of the red sleeping bag you hide in, but you wish the first thing you had seen was Michael’s lovely face. The nausea doesn’t go away and you try to convince yourself this is a thought you will never have again. Just a fluke. You know this is not true because you don’t stop thinking about him and his face and his hair, his hands and his arms and his chest and, and, and— 

You are exploring, but you are not discovering.

You shuffle your head back out of the sleeping bag. The cold air rushes over you like a tsunami, but all you can think about is your best friend. This new world is overwhelming and you pray that it does not exist, you pray that this all means nothing. Yet when your eyes land on a beautiful boy, and you see him smiling in his sleep so peacefully, you can’t help but accept the truth for one terrifying second: you, Alex Eggleston, are deeply in love with your best friend Michael.

You are exploring, and you have found something that you already knew.

And your new world is drifting away.

You fall into the deep blue sea. The freezing water smothers you, the land so far away. Why did it have to be this way? Why did you have to recognize this terrifying part of your Self? Why did you have to fucking recognize this terrible truth when you know for a fact you will never, ever be with Michael? The exploration drags you down from your ship, your head slips beneath the surface, drowning, drowning…

The salt water washes over you until it seeps out of your eyes. Fresh tears slip past your face, blurring your sight, and you can’t see him. You can’t see Michael and in this moment that is the most horrifying experience you've felt in your life. Even more terrifying than the feelings you can’t control. You wipe your eyes vigorously, but those tears keep on flowing down your cheeks. You keep crying like the little kid you really are.

A shaky sob escapes your throat and you have to hit yourself on the head to stop yourself from making any other noise. You don’t stop looking at Michael even as you dig the heel of your hand into your now-raw cheeks. You see him a little more clearly now. His smile is just like the Sun, warm and bright even in pure darkness. He is beautiful and he is perfect and he is the good boy of your dreams.

The sinful Thief hugs your Michael even tighter and for a moment you think you might push her overboard.

There once was a reality when you were smaller and Michael was nicer and you could lay next to him on the air mattress. You would fake having a nightmare and he would let you stay next to him and you would watch his sleeping face even closer, and your sister was never in the picture. You’re far too old and far too big for that reality, and you know this, don’t you? 

But that’s not stopping you.

You climb out of your red sailboat and crawl through an ocean of hardwood floors and saltwater tears. Your knees knock against the floor a little too hard, but you keep moving. The closer you get to Michael, you think you get closer to drowning. Your disgusting feelings and your growing body drag you down, but you refuse to sink. You will not drown. Not here, not now.

The air mattress sinks underneath your hands as you climb ashore.

You shuffle your body onto the very edge of the air mattress. Michael is right in front of you, so achingly close. From this angle, you can’t see your wicked sister. All you can see is your Michael. Though your exploration terrifies you, you let yourself snuggle closer to his sleeping body, because you know this may be your last chance.

Great explorer, Alex Eggleston, King of the Ocean. This is the thing about you explorers: you discover things that were already there.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Sam, Dean, and the heart-shaped nipples: a crack fic about devil-approved top surgery that grew feelings

Dean’s brother shows up on his doorstep three months after he falls into Hell.

At first, all Dean can see from down the street is a shirtless stranger in Lisa’s yard. His heart thuds loudly in his chest as he reaches for the gun he keeps telling Lisa he’ll get rid of before Ben finds it and hurts himself. He can only just make them out as he drives the Impala slowly down the street, but the closer he gets, the more he starts to believe his eyes are tricking him again. It wouldn’t be the first time he saw Sam.

He looks different, not like Dean has ever pictured him. Mostly, Dean sees Sam suffering in Hell, in worse conditions than Dean himself ever suffered under. (He’d learned to ignore the hallucinations for Lisa’s sake. They never really went away.) This Sam is kneeling in their flowerbed, his shirt tied off around his waist over his jeans as the sun beats down on his back. The real Sam would never do that, but there’s no strip of a sports bra in sight. Maybe Dean is really losing it.

He gets out of the Impala. He’s still holding the gun. Sam stops what he’s doing. His hands are grimy with dirt from rooting around, and there’s a damp watering can next to him. He tosses his head back towards Dean, and he smiles.

And just like that, Dean knows he’s real.

He doesn’t register the steps in between, how Sam rises to his feet as he turns around and opens his mouth to say something. Dean doesn’t feel anything until Sam’s chest thumps against his. He drags Sam’s head down into his shoulder where he nestles in like he belongs there, chuckling as Dean sucks in a breath and tries not to cry. He’s real. He’s sun-warmed under Dean’s hands, smelling like sweat and dirt, and his hair is that same ridiculous length it was three months ago, and he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

“Sammy,” he chokes out, “God, Sammy.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, quietly. “I’m alright. I got out.” Dean squeezes him tighter for a moment before he can bring himself to let his brother go. He claps a hand on Sam’s cheek before he drops it to his shoulder. Sam’s teary-eyed, too, and if neither of them say a word, then it can be their little secret.

“How? I looked in every damn book-”

“I told you to live your life-”

“And you knew damn well I wasn’t going to until I- I knew I couldn’t bring you back.” And he had looked. He’d nearly killed himself looking. He was lucky Lisa took him in as ragged as he was when he stumbled home to her. Sam’s eyes soften. He smiles, mournful and fond all at once.

“I did,” he admits.

“So, how the Hell are you here?” At that, Sam squirms uncomfortably. Dean frowns. His grip on Sam’s shoulder tightens. “Sam. That is you in there, right?” He can’t help it. When Sam lifts a hand to reassure him, he flinches. The battering he got from the devil didn’t leave a bruise anywhere on his skin, but he felt it ache for months.

“More or less,” Sam says. Dean takes a step back. “Dean, he’s not- He kept me safe. He got me out.” He looks down, guilty. “We’re kind of a package deal.”

“How long have you been out?” Sam’s grimace deepens.

“Two weeks,” he admits, and now Dean knows what he’s hearing in Sam’s tone. Sam thought he would show up, devil in tow, and Dean would turn him out. Like Dean wouldn’t take getting his brother back in any way, no matter the consequences.

Sam huffs in surprise when Dean yanks him down into another hug. He wraps himself around Dean with no hesitation now. Dean cups the back of his head like he did when he carried Sam as a kid. “Don’t you dare make me wait like that again,” he tells him, only stern enough to get his point across, “and Satan in there, tell him he still owes me. He doesn’t get points for dragging you out when he’s the reason you were in the slammer.”

Sam shivers against Dean, hides his face, and it’s his voice that mumbles, “I know,” but it isn’t him. Dean doesn’t care. Either way, he feels like a little brother in Dean’s arms, asking to come home.

Dean lets him go again. He’d noticed how Sam’s chest felt against his, and he needed a look at that. They’d always said they’d put away money to get Sam’s surgery done, but then the world had started ending and hadn’t stopped for a while. Sam coughs. “Lucifer took care of that. I asked.” Dean nods, admiring the work. He can let the devil have this one; he took good care of Sam.

Then, Dean’s eyes narrow.

“You know your nipples are-“

“Yeah,” Sam says, stilted, “I know.”

Dean’s brother has a flat chest so perfectly fitting him it was like he was born with it. He also has two dusky nipples with heart-shaped areolas around them.

“Lucifer?”

“Lucifer.” Sam rubs the back of his neck. “He thought it was sweet. It was sweet, they’re just-” Sam says that last bit not to Dean but to himself, or to Lucifer inside him. (That’s going to get confusing fast.)

“You’ve got him whipped,” Dean says. Sam laughs. It’s the best thing Dean’s heard in months.

“A bit.” Sam relaxes again, him and his devil’s heart nipples. Well, Dean did say he’d take him back whatever shape he was in.

“Why were you messing with our garden?” Dean asks.

Sam’s expression briefly changes, something only Dean might notice about how his eyes move and the shape of his mouth. “You don’t water it enough.” Lucifer sounds snippy about that.

“And Lisa asked me- us to. To get something done before we surprised you when you got back.” There’s Sam again, right on the tail-end of Lucifer to finish his sentence. Dean snorts. Of course Lisa would take one look at his Hell-raised brother and put him and his lovesick devil to work. He slaps a hand on Sam’s back and guides him up to the door.

When he opens it and walks inside, Sam hangs back for a moment. “You coming?” Sam looks at him, or maybe it’s Lucifer looking at him, or both of them at once. Sam swallows, looking past Dean into the warmth of the house and then back at his brother. Dean steps close to him, crossing back over the threshold to take hold of Sam’s arm. “It’s alright, Sammy. It’s real.” He says the same words he wished someone had said to him the moment he crawled out of his own grave. Dean tugs on his brother until he follows him through the door.

[buckyalpine]

MOREEE PLSSSS BUCKY BOOBS PILLOWW OMGGG I LOVE IT ;) I WANT TO SEE MORE RN

For this baby? Anything.

Hiding your bras

Okay imagine after he feels your boobs without a bra, he is utterly insatiable.

Your finished showering, robed wrapped around you, opening your underwear drawer and its……empty? You didn’t move them anywhere, it’s always in your drawer so where the hell else would it be. You huff, going straight to Bucky’s room where he’s innocently reading a book, ignoring you as you stare at him.

“I know you did it”

“I didn’t do anything”

You shake your head, rummaging through his closet and drawers, while he snickers to himself; all your bras placed on the very top shelf you can’t reach.

You walk over to the bed, taking the book out of his hands, straddling him, the mischievous twinkle in his eye making it difficult for you to be annoyed.

“James”

“Y/n”

Your robe slips open, Bucky’s focus now completely elsewhere. You cock your eyebrow as he pulls your boobs right to his face, sighing contently, the safest warmest place in the world.

You giggle, playing with his hair as he snuggles against you, tossing the robe off, moving you to lie down so he can cuddle properly.

“What are you doing Bucky”

“M’comfy”

“I can see that, can I have my bras back please?”

Bucky huffed, with a look of shock on his face, deeply offended by your words. How dare you ask for such an awful piece of clothing back?!

“No”

“Bucky”

“Baby”

“You’re the baby” You rolled your eyes as he whined, hugging you tighter.

“M’your baby though”

After a bad mission

Bucky usually manages to hide his emotions but certain missions leave him extremely triggered.

He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone, including you, immediately leaving the jet, headed straight for his room, locking it so no one can enter.

He’s stripped his clothes off, managed a shower before crawling into bed to battle his demons alone, he doesn’t want you to deal with this side of him

But it becomes too much. Sobs wrack his body as he pulls on his hair, unable to stop the panic rising in his chest, it’s all swallowing him and he can’t remember how to breathe

You hear a soft knock at your door, quickly going to open it.

Your heart breaks seeing Bucky, his eyes and nose red, tears streaking his cheeks as he continues to whimper, struggling to stop crying in the hallway before anyone sees.

You pull him in immediately, taking him to your bed for him to lie down with you.

You strip off all his clothes and yours, cradling his body to yours, rocking him in your arms.

You wipe his tears, kissing his hair as he sniffles, trying to curl up and make himself small.

Bucky closes his eyes, focusing on the warmth of your skin and your heart beat, his hand cupping your breast, the softness grounding him. He feels his heart rate relax, holding onto your boobs, snuggled against them.

“Th-thank you” His voice is hardly above a whisper, still raspy

“For what Bucky?”

“For holding me”

Your heart breaks, holding him tighter, you’d never let anyone hurt him again.

“I love you James”

“I love you y/n”

Morning coffee

Bucky trudges in the kitchen, fluff wild bed head, rubbing his eyes, still tried.

He’s grumpy; he doesn’t like waking up without you by his side.

He wordlessly hugs you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as he slips his hand under your shirt, cupping your breasts, closing his eyes.

“Buck?”

“Mm”

“Why are you up, you’re still tried, go to sleep baby”

“M’ not sleepy” Bucky shakes his head, burying his face in your neck, squeezing you while you continue to make your cup of coffee.

He shuffles behind you, not letting you go as you try to move around the kitchen.

“Baby, I need you to let go, I’ll come up in a second”

“No”

Bucky clings onto you the entire time, only reluctantly letting you go for a second so he can scoop you up in his arms instead to take you back to bed.

Hiding from the world

You’re sprawled on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix, lounging in Bucky’s Henley.

Bucky finds you, wordlessly crawling on top of you and burying his head under your shirt.

“Whatcha doing there Buck?”

“Hiding”

“From?”

“Everything”

You giggle, looking at the large super soldier squirm, his beard tickling your skin as he nuzzles into you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you like a teddy bear.

“You know, just cause your head is under there doesn’t mean we can’t see you” Sam smirks, shaking his head seeing you engulfed under Bucky’s huge form (he’s used to his antics by now)

“Go away bird brain”

You wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back as he continues to cuddle with you, blocking the outside world, happy in his safe place.

More from this AU:

Personal Pillow

Personal Pillow 2

Bad habits

Personal Pillow 3