#i’ve muted him long time back but every now and then you still see the drama

[whitehartlane]

Rahul what is this whole invertthewing drama? I don’t have twitter so just been seeing like snapshots of batshittery

mate it’s genuinely hilarious i swear 😭 so invertthewing is this guy on football twitter who sort of made his ‘claim to fame’ at the beginning of last season when he started yapping about spurs and ange. he’s self proclaimed not a spurs fan (i think he’s a stockport county fan) but he ‘loves the game’ and reps people like pep, ange, palmer, kane, etc. he’s sort of famous for talking about tactics (clearly been run through an ai) and for being absolutely unhinged. he trolled arsenal and liverpool fans 24/7 last season (quote: ‘you come at the king you best not miss’ ???).

anyway what he’s done now is go off the rails and proclaim after two preseason games that djed is better than pedro and that he’s going to be our starting rb next season. i’m not sure if he’s ever repped pedro really…? i feel like i remember him talking shit abt him towards the end of last season. i digress but what pedro’s done is block him (absolutely legendary) and invert took it so to heart 😭 started tweeting about how he’s not upset and it doesn’t bother him but then talking about pedro spending too much time on twitter and how him blocking invert speaks volumes about his character and then yapping about how djed must feel seeing his teammate blocked invert at the suggestion of djed starting over him yadda yadda. then he started talking about how it’s his last days on twitter bc ppl are mass reporting him and THEN he was like i’m not going to let the haters silence me 😭 the guy is unhinged it’s actually box office

ALSO aj tracey was in his replies 😭😭😭

[lottiies]

LIKE A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

→ Sneaking around with your grandparents’ ranch hand during the summer!

CW: x Fem!reader with she/her pronouns, starts with fluff and turns into smut, switch!Leon, dry humping, cowgirl, butterfly (i think that’s the position name?), fingering, short hold the moan snippet, reader wears a sundress at one point, mention of a palm injury via a cut

WC: 1.8k

NOTE: written just for fun to entertain myself during an excruciatingly long car ride, sorry that it’s fast paced </3 title lyric is from ‘tulsa jesus freak’ also i tried my best at a southern accent for him okay

MASTERLINK

You always complained whenever your parents sent you on your annual trip to your grandparents’ place. Mosquitoes ran rampant and a prayer whilst holding hands was mandatory before every meal. Summer was supposed to be a break so you could be lazy in bed all day, but now you had to go help tend to the animals.

Sure, farm animals are cute and all…but gushing over how adorable they are is much different from actually taking care of them. So much for that ‘Charlotte’s Web’ childhood dream of yours, none of the pigs are like Wilbur!

But you had a change of attitude when you went the summer after your freshman year of college. Upon your arrival, your suitcase was hauled by strong skin-kissed hands, like if your packed belongings weighed a mere pound.

Looking up, your eyes met irises that rivaled the beauty of the ocean.

Oh.

You almost had to physically lift your jaw back up to introduce yourself. Then you ran upstairs to bury your face into your pillow.

Leon Kennedy. Would his last name suit your first name? Or vice versa? Jesus.

That first summer was full of fleeting glances and flirtatious conversation. There was something romantic about being in a space far away from civilization. Like you were in your own little universe with him whenever the two of you snuck around. During dinners, you always nudged at his leg with your boot to mess with him, liking the way he cleared his throat to ward off a smile.

And maybe you relied on silly methods to see if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck. Last one.

He likes me!!!

Childish excitement coursed through you, an instantaneous smile on your face. You thanked Mother Nature for giving you the answer you wanted.

You also thanked the Sun every day for gifting freckles to Leon. One day, you held onto his face and tried to count them all. Squinting your eyes, you counted aloud, missing the way he looked at you with nothing but sweetness in his gaze.

The world around you was muted, as if the cows standing behind the fence had stopped mooing just for the sake of your concentration.

“Sure this is gonna work? Listen, I’ve always been an optimistic fella but—“

“Shh, you’re distracting me.” After a beat, you groaned. “Fuck I lost count. Okay, hold still for real this time.”

“Sure, doll.” She’s real cute, he thought to himself.

Or that one time when the Sun’s beams were too hot and made Leon take his hat off so he could pour a fresh bucket of water on his head. You felt so betrayed at the sight.

“You’re shitting me!”

“What?”

“Your roots…” Not very polite, but you pointed at his hair. “I thought you were blonde. Like, born blonde.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He hid his amusement with a shrug, lowering his head to give you a better look. “Haven’t had time to dye it.”

And of course, you owed the Moon some gratitude for being an audience member to a memory you cherished. If said memory could be physically stored, you’d keep it on a frame so you could rewatch the moment your relationship blossomed.

The confession came when two heartbeats aligned, two bodies snuggled against each other on top of the roof. Leon gazed at you as if you hung up the stars and moon that were beautifully assorted in the sky, the same ones he had admired all alone prior to you coming here. He never thought he’d have a pretty woman wanting to get to know him.

“This is crazy…I can actually see the constellations out here.” Your words were a murmur, the glimmering dots above reflecting in your pupils.

“And ya couldn’t back at home?”

“Pfft. With all the pollution in the city? Not a chance.”

“Yeah? Mus’ be a special night for ya, then.”

It was. But not because of the view, rather, because of the handsome guy holding you close like you were his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it is.”

A hat was placed onto your head. His hat.

You broke your admiration of the stars, turning to look at him instead. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, suddenly his hand was cupping the side of your face. His skin was scarred and calloused against yours, a physical manifestation of how different his lifestyle was from yours.

Books always made it seem like butterflies would be swarming in your stomach at moments like these. But you felt calm. This was fate, it was supposed to happen. And who were you to deny the universe’s pull and Cupid’s arrow?

Leon was a gentleman first and foremost. “Can I…?”

“Mhm.”

Your first kiss was witnessed by the moon.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You kept in touch through letters. Leon was old fashioned, and very rarely did he pick up his cheap flip phone when you tried giving him a call. Something about his phone always being stored away, he hardly used the thing anyway. He already had the task of picking up the mail, so it wasn’t like your grandpa or grandma would get it.

You didn’t mind much. There was something endearing about sending letters, running to the mail like you were a dog fetching the weekly newspaper. It was hard to imagine his voice sometimes when reading his letters because he wrote all properly, it didn’t match his accent.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send another letter. I accidentally cut my hand when fixing up a fence and it took a while to heal, it left a scar. I’m okay though, promise. Just don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything like that. Your grandpa was real nice about it, he gave me some time off, he’s got a kind heart. And your grandma kept cooking up some soup…said it would help me heal quicker. Not sure if it’s true, but it left my stomach happy and that counts for something.

The entire time I was resting, I found myself thinking of you. Would you have patched my hand up if you were here? Kissed my pain away?

Every time I look at the moon, I wonder if you are too.”

You always traced over his handwriting with an unclicked pen before proceeding to leave a kiss mark on the corner of the page and putting it in your stored pile.

Summer became the highlight of your years. You actually packed cute clothes now, flowy sundresses and some matching undergarments you wouldn’t mind Leon seeing. Of course, you also bought some riding gear, wanting to partake in his hobbies too.

The instant you were back at the farm and the two of you were alone, Leon grabbed you by the hips and pressed you up against the outdoor wall of the house, smiling at you all coyly.

“Missed ya. Shoulda jus’ stayed here with me.”

“Thought you liked me for pursuing a higher education?” Your grin matched his. Maybe after you got your degree you’d join him more often.

“Mhm.” God, that intellect of yours was sexy. He could listen to you ramble about your ambitions for ages. “Wish that college of yers was nearby, though.”

“That makes two of us…I missed you too, by the way.” Your lips inched closer to his. “A lot.”

His cheeks turned roseate, his heart thumping as fast as the hooves of a bronco at a rodeo. “…Yeah?”

“Don’t sound so unsure! Need me to show you?”

“I’d appreciate that, y’know how I am.” Leon wasn’t the most self assured, having been worried you’d find some college guy to get with.

All it took was some more sweet talking and daring touches on your end before he hoisted one of your legs up with your permission, the fabric of your dress lifting and bunching around your hips, the plush of your ass pressed against the weathered down paint of the walls.

He let you set the pace, keeping you steady as you bucked your hips against him, your panties soaking from the friction of his rough denim jeans. Your mouths clashed messily out of pent up desperation.

It didn’t go farther than dry humping, though.

Leon made sure your first time with him was more planned out, not wanting it to be in some confined space or rushed. You rode him until dawn, your knees meeting the soft blanket he laid down against the grass with each roll of your hips.

“Ah ah ah. Slow, sweetheart, slow.” He pleaded in a throaty voice, you were killing him, milking him over and over.

“Fuck…okay.” You slowed your pace, your breaths mingling when you rested your forehead against his.

“That’s it. Like that.”

And after that, there were more spontaneous times.

You wanted to get dicked down on your mattress so that’s what Leon gave you, if only your bed wasn’t so fucking squeaky. He had to put pillows behind your headboard.

“Shh…gotta be quiet f’me.” His hand covered your mouth, muting the moans that almost spilled from your mouth.

Leon wouldn’t live to see another day if his boss found his sweet granddaughter’s ankles hugging his neck and her toes all curled.

You ran your nails against his scalp, turning his hair into a mess, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t have a hat indoors. He bit down on his lip harshly to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Yeah, he had to climb out your window after that.

You almost got caught once inside one of the rundown abandoned stalls that was in need of some fixing. You were sitting betweens Leon’s spread legs, his hand down your pants. His palm gently smacked your clit with every push of his fingers inside your cunt. Open-mouthed kisses grazed your neck, making you loll your head to the side.

If only your granddaddy hadn’t interrupted.

“Son, ya in here?” Some incoherent grumbles before he got to the point, thankfully giving you some time to smack Leon’s hand away, snickering at the expression on his face — like he was about to be put six feet under. “Need yer help with the pipe I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”

“‘m on it.” Leon called out after pecking your lips, but there was a crack in his voice that left you silently giggling as he got up and wiped his fingers on his pants. He seemed so embarrassed, sparing you an apologetic glance and then tipping his hat down to hide his flustered expression from his boss.

But who knows, your grandparents adored Leon. One day he’d muster up the courage to tell them he was sweet on you, or maybe they’d catch the two of you holding hands under the dinner table.

Either way, you were no mere summer fling, and he let that be known by adorning your finger with a shiny promise ring.

[soulofapatrick]

A part of me is tethered to you - Azriel x female reader 

Summary: you can’t sleep and go to see out your best friends but end up going to Azriel

Warnings: none really; more fluff than anything 

Words: 4.3K

Y/N's POV

I toss and turn in bed, every position more uncomfortable than the last. My sheets are tangled around my legs, and no matter how many times I close my eyes, the restless feeling gnaws at me. Sleep refuses to come, my thoughts too loud and the remnants of my nightmare still clawing at the edges of my mind.

With a sigh, I sit up, running a hand through my hair. It’s no use—I won’t find peace tonight, not like this. Feyre or Cassian is probably still awake; they usually are, always up late. Maybe talking to one of them would help, at least enough to shake off this tension.

I slip out of bed and pull on my robe, the cool air of the House of Wind whispering over my skin as I step into the hallway. The house is quiet, its usual warmth a little muted in the dead of night. The stone beneath my feet feels grounding, steadying, but as I make my way down the corridor, something shifts inside me.

As I pass Azriel’s door, an invisible pull tugs at me, soft but insistent. I stop in my tracks, my heart suddenly beating faster in my chest. His door is closed, but the moment I’m near it, it’s as if something deep within me is drawn to it. A feeling I can’t quite explain—like I’m being called to him, to his presence, without words or reason.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

I’m supposed to be heading to Cassian’s, but my feet don’t move. Instead, I find myself staring at Azriel’s door, the weight of my unspoken feelings pressing against my chest. I’ve tried to keep them buried, tried to convince myself that what I feel for him is nothing more than friendship—admiration, respect for the way he carries himself, for the quiet strength he exudes. But I know it’s a lie.

It’s so much more than that.

The truth is, I’m drawn to him in ways I can’t even fully comprehend. There’s something about him that calls to me—his shadows, his silence, the way he moves through the world with such restraint, such quiet intensity. And then there are the rare moments when his gaze lingers on me just a second too long, when the soft brush of his hand against mine sends a shock of warmth through my entire body.

I’ve been fighting these feelings for too long, pretending I don’t care. But standing here now, the pull toward his room stronger than ever, I can’t deny it anymore.

My hand hovers over the doorknob, hesitation prickling at the edges of my mind. What am I doing? I shouldn’t be here. He didn’t invite me in. But the draw is too strong to ignore, as if my heart knows something my mind doesn’t.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grip the handle and twist, slipping inside as quietly as possible. The door shuts behind me with a soft click, and I’m immediately enveloped by the warmth of his space. Shadows flicker lazily along the walls, but they seem calm, almost serene.

And then there’s his scent—cedarwood, smoke, and something distinctly him. It fills the room, wrapping around me like an embrace, and I find myself inhaling deeply, letting it seep into my skin. My heart races, but it’s not from fear or anxiety. It’s from something deeper, something that stirs in my chest every time I’m near him.

I step further into the room, my eyes falling on his bed. It’s perfectly made, the dark blankets smoothed out neatly. The pull tugs again, more insistent this time, urging me closer. My fingers graze the soft fabric, and a shiver runs through me. His bed looks so inviting, so warm, and without thinking, I let my hand glide over the blanket. I know I shouldn’t, but the temptation is too much.

Before I can stop myself, I’m pulling the covers back and slipping beneath them, sinking into the softness of his mattress. His scent is even stronger here, enveloping me completely, and I can’t help the way my body relaxes, every muscle softening as the warmth of the bed wraps around me.

It feels… right. Comforting in a way I hadn’t expected. As if being in his bed is exactly where I’m meant to be.

My head sinks into his pillow, and the overwhelming sensation of him makes my breath catch in my throat. My heart pounds in my chest, the awareness of what I’m doing—the intimacy of it—settling deep into my bones. It feels forbidden, like I’m crossing a line, but it also feels… so good. Like I’ve been craving this closeness, this connection, for longer than I want to admit.

I close my eyes, breathing him in, letting the warmth of his bed and the quiet of his room seep into me. There’s something about this space that makes me feel safe, something about him that makes the chaos in my mind go quiet. My feelings for Azriel—those hidden, aching feelings I’ve tried so hard to suppress—bubble to the surface, and for a moment, I let myself indulge in them.

What if… what if I didn’t have to hide them? What if he felt the same? The thought sends a thrill through me, but I push it aside, knowing it’s dangerous to hope for something like that.

Still, as I curl deeper into his bed, I can’t help but imagine him here, lying beside me, his presence a quiet comfort. I can almost feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body pressed close. It’s a fantasy I’ve had more times than I care to admit, but here, wrapped in the reality of his space, it feels closer than ever.

And as the scent of him and the softness of his bed lull me further into warmth, I let my eyes drift shut, letting the fantasy take over, letting myself believe—for just a little while—that this could be real.

Sleep comes easily this time, with Azriel in my thoughts, the pull on my heart finally settling as I drift into a dream.

The gentle caress of fingers across my cheek stirs me from sleep. It's soft, featherlight, and for a moment, I think I'm still dreaming. But then it comes again—a slow, deliberate brush of fingertips against my skin, followed by the feeling of someone smoothing my hair back from my face.

I blink, eyes fluttering open, the world still hazy with sleep. It takes a second to register where I am, but when I do, my heart lurches in my chest.

Azriel is sitting on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes watching me with an expression so soft, so tender, that it sends a wave of warmth rushing through me. His shadows curl around him, flitting in and out of the room’s dim light, but there’s something about the way they seem to reach for me—gentle, almost curious, as if they’re part of him, mirroring the way his hand is smoothing my hair back. His touch is delicate, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he presses too hard.

My breath catches in my throat. This isn’t a dream.

Azriel’s gaze is steady, his eyes full of something I can’t quite name—something that makes my chest tighten and my skin flush. There’s no anger, no judgment. Just a quiet intensity, like he’s trying to figure out why I’m here, in his bed, yet there’s no trace of displeasure in his expression. If anything, he looks… amused. Fond, even.

I can’t breathe. My mind scrambles, replaying every step that led me here, and embarrassment crashes over me like a tidal wave. I’m in Azriel’s bed. His bed. Without permission. Without an invitation. Oh gods, what was I thinking?

Heat floods my face, and before I can stop myself, I yank the duvet over my head, retreating beneath the heavy fabric as if it could somehow shield me from the mortification that’s burning through me. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I’m sure my face must be crimson beneath the covers.

I hear a soft chuckle—low, barely audible—and it only makes my humiliation worse. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, deadly and unreadable, is laughing at me. Of course he is. I’m in his bed, hiding under his duvet like some child, utterly mortified by the fact that he found me here.

I can still feel his presence beside me, the warmth of him seeping through the blanket, his hand still resting lightly on top of the duvet where I know my head is hidden beneath. His fingers brush the fabric, a comforting gesture, as if to coax me out from my hiding place.

But I can’t. I can’t face him right now—not with my heart pounding like this, not with the knowledge that I’ve crossed a line I didn’t even realize I was crossing until it was too late.

His voice breaks the silence, soft and soothing. “You don’t have to hide.”

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and my grip tightens on the duvet. He sounds so calm, so gentle, and I don’t understand how he can be so unbothered when I’m dying of embarrassment under his blanket.

“I—” I try to speak, but the words get caught in my throat. What can I even say? How do I explain that I felt drawn to his room, that the pull was so strong I couldn’t resist? That I didn’t mean to invade his space, that I was just so tired and somehow, being here, surrounded by his scent and his warmth, made everything feel right?

I squeeze my eyes shut beneath the blanket, heat still rising to my cheeks. This is a nightmare. But instead of running, he stays—quiet, patient. His shadows curl around me, and I can feel the gentle pulse of his presence, waiting for me to emerge. Waiting for me to face him.

I take a breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and slowly—hesitantly—I pull the duvet down just enough to peek out at him. He’s still there, his dark eyes fixed on mine, and the warmth in his gaze makes my stomach flip.

His lips curve into the slightest smile, and it takes everything in me not to hide again. But there’s no judgment in his eyes, no anger. Only that quiet, steady intensity that always seems to surround him, as if he’s seeing something in me that I’ve tried so hard to keep hidden.

“I didn’t mean to…” I trail off, my voice barely above a whisper, not knowing how to explain myself, not knowing how to make this less awkward. “I couldn’t sleep, and… I just…” I glance away, feeling the burn of my embarrassment all over again.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me, and then his hand moves again, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch so tender it almost undoes me.

“You’re always welcome here,” he says softly, his voice like a whisper in the quiet room.

Azriel’s soft gaze lingers on me, and I can feel the warmth of it, steady and reassuring. I should feel more embarrassed than I already do, but there’s something about him—his presence, the way he’s just there—that soothes me. His hand is still gentle in my hair, smoothing it back in a rhythm that makes me want to close my eyes again and sink into it.

“What’s going on?” he asks quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. It’s a tone he uses when he wants someone to open up, when he’s coaxing out a truth they’re too afraid to admit. His fingers pause in my hair, and my breath catches in my throat. I don’t want to lie. I can’t lie—not to him.

“I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares,” I admit, the words coming out in a rush. I shift under the duvet, suddenly feeling vulnerable, exposed. “I haven’t been able to sleep. But last night…” I glance up at him, the blush rising again in my cheeks. “Last night, I slept. In here. In your bed. It was peaceful. I don’t know why, but it was.”

Azriel’s expression softens further, something like understanding flickering across his features. He studies me for a moment, his shadows still swirling around us like they’re listening too, before he nods. He doesn’t ask why I didn’t come to him earlier, or why I kept it to myself. He just accepts it, the way he always does.

He stands slowly, his movements deliberate, and I realize for the first time that he’s still in his armour—his siphons gleaming faintly in the dim light. The realisation sends a fresh wave of heat over me. He must’ve been out, maybe just returned from one of his late-night missions, and here I am, taking over his bed. My guilt surges, but then I see the calm in his eyes, and it melts away.

Azriel starts unfastening his siphons, setting each one down with a practiced ease, and as I watch, something strange stirs in my chest—something that makes me feel both breathless and desperate to look away. But I don’t. I can’t.

He removes the last of his armour, and his hands move to the hem of his shirt. In one smooth motion, he tugs it over his head and tosses it aside. My heart stutters as my eyes take in the sight of him—his toned chest, the ripple of muscles beneath his skin, the faint scars that only seem to add to the raw power that radiates off him. My gaze moves lower, following the line of his stomach, and I feel my face burn as I realize how little space there is between us.

I should look away. I should turn around and give him some privacy, but I don’t move. I can’t. My body seems frozen in place, my breath hitching in my throat as he unbuttons his tight trousers and shimmies out of them, leaving him standing in just his black boxers.

He’s beautiful. Inhumanly beautiful. His wings unfurl slightly behind him, leathery and dark, casting long shadows across the room. They’re massive, strong, and powerful, but there’s something almost graceful about them, like they’re an extension of him in more ways than just physically.

A strange ache settles low in my stomach as I watch him. The air between us feels charged, and my heart pounds in my chest, each beat louder than the last. I feel that tug again, that invisible thread pulling me toward him, urging me closer.

Azriel’s eyes meet mine, and they’ve darkened—intense and unreadable, like he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. His gaze seems to burn into me, the weight of it making my pulse race, and I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath. But it’s impossible, especially when he moves closer, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps.

“Move over,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I blink up at him, my body too tense to react, but then his lips curve into the faintest smile, a soft nudge to break the tension. “Come on,” he says, softer now, his eyes never leaving mine.

I scootch over, making room for him, though my heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it. He slides into bed beside me, his body so close I can feel the heat radiating off him, and my breath catches again, the space between us suddenly feeling too small.

Azriel settles beside me, his wings curling slightly around us, cocooning us in a soft darkness. His presence is overwhelming in the best possible way, and as he lies there, inches from me, I can’t help but feel like the world has narrowed down to just us—this bed, this moment.

And I can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he feels it too.

Azriel shifts closer, the bed dipping beneath his weight, and before I can react, his arm slides around my waist, pulling me against him. My heart stumbles in my chest, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He’s so close—closer than I’ve ever been to him. His warmth seeps into me, the solidness of his body pressing against mine in a way that feels both comforting and electrifying at the same time.

I should pull away, should give him space. But instead, I melt into him, my body fitting against his as if we’ve done this a thousand times. The scent of him—night-chilled air, cedar, and something uniquely Azriel—fills my senses, grounding me and setting me alight all at once.

His breath is warm against my hair, and I can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand. I’m not sure what to say, how to fill the space between us now that we’re like this, but then his voice breaks the silence, low and rough.

“You shouldn’t have to sleep alone if it’s that bad.” There’s a hint of something deeper in his words, something that sends a shiver down my spine. His thumb begins to trace slow circles along my waist, and I swear I can feel each stroke burning through the thin fabric of my clothes.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “It’s not just the nightmares…” The words slip out before I can stop them. I don’t know why I said it—why I feel the need to bare the truth of what’s been gnawing at me. But now that the words are out, I can’t take them back.

He tenses slightly, his arm tightening around me. “What else is it, then?” His voice is softer now, but there’s a heaviness to it, like he’s afraid of the answer.

I hesitate, my pulse racing. The air between us seems to thrum with something unspoken, something that’s been simmering beneath the surface for so long I don’t know how to let it out. But lying here, wrapped in his arms, with the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, I feel braver than I have in a long time.

“I sleep better when I’m with you,” I whisper, the admission barely audible, but I know he hears it. I feel his breath catch, the shift in his body as my words sink in. “Last night… it was the first time in ages I didn’t wake up in a panic.” My heart is pounding now, and I can feel the flush spreading across my cheeks. “Being near you… it calms me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and I bite my lip, wondering if I’ve said too much. If I’ve crossed a line. But then, slowly, Azriel moves, his fingers tilting my chin so I’m looking up at him.

His eyes are dark, swirling with emotions I can’t quite read, but there’s something there—something raw and intense that makes my breath hitch. His thumb brushes along my jaw, and I lean into the touch without thinking.

“I didn’t know,” he says quietly, his voice rough around the edges. His thumb strokes my skin again, almost like he’s testing the waters, and I feel that ache in my chest grow sharper. “I didn’t know it was like that for you.”

I blink up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Azriel, I—” My voice falters, my throat tightening as the weight of what I’m feeling crashes over me. I’ve kept these feelings buried for so long, locked away because it never felt like the right time, because I didn’t think he’d ever see me like that. But now, with him holding me like this, the truth feels too close to keep hidden.

His hand moves to cup the side of my face, his touch so gentle it makes my heart ache. “You never have to hide from me,” he murmurs, his eyes searching mine. There’s a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability I’ve never seen before, and it takes my breath away.

My chest tightens, and I take a shaky breath, feeling the tug in my heart pulling me toward him, drawing me in. I don’t know if it’s his shadows or something deeper between us, but every part of me is screaming that this is where I’m supposed to be—here, with him.

That tug in my chest tightens, and suddenly, I know.

It’s not just attraction. It’s not just this bond between friends, or the warmth of being close to someone who understands me. It’s something more. Something I can’t deny anymore, no matter how hard I try.

“Azriel…” My voice is shaky as I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. “Do you feel that?”

His hand moves from my waist to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. He nods, his jaw clenched, as if he’s struggling to find the right words. “I’ve felt it for a while now,” he admits, his voice low, almost hoarse. “I just didn’t know if it was real. If it was possible.”

I swallow hard, my heart racing as the realization settles between us. It’s not just a pull, not just a bond forged in battle or friendship. It’s deeper than that. Stronger. My emotions have always been sharp around him, heightened in ways I couldn’t explain, and now I understand why.

We’re mates.

The thought crashes into me like a storm, and I see the same realization flicker in his eyes. His breath hitches, and for a moment, he looks at me like he’s afraid to believe it, afraid to hope. But I feel it—the undeniable truth, the connection between us that’s always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

“I didn’t want to push you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s always been there. That pull… every time I’m near you, I feel it. Like a part of me is tethered to you.”

My chest tightens, and I bite my lip, trying to steady my racing heart. “It’s the same for me,” I admit, my voice small but certain. “Whenever you’re close, I can feel it. Like you’re part of me.”

His thumb strokes my jaw again, and I shiver at the touch, my skin tingling under his gentle caress. “I thought I was imagining it,” he says quietly, his gaze never leaving mine. “But now… now I know.”

He leans in closer, his forehead resting against mine, and the warmth of him, the strength of him, floods through me. “We’re mates,” I whisper, the words heavy with meaning, and his grip on me tightens as he exhales shakily.

His eyes darken, and I see the raw emotion there—the longing, the need, the fear and hope all tangled together. “I never thought…” His voice breaks off, and he shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I never thought I’d be this lucky.”

I feel a soft tug in my chest, that same pull toward him, and without thinking, I press my lips to his cheek, just a gentle touch, barely there. His breath hitches, and before I can pull away, his hand slips to the back of my neck, gently pulling me back toward him.

His lips are on mine in an instant, and the world falls away.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if we’re testing the waters, but it deepens quickly, becoming something more. It’s not just a kiss—it’s the release of everything we’ve held back for so long, all the unspoken feelings, the quiet longing, the need to be close. His hand slides to my waist, pulling me tighter against him, and I can feel his heart beating wildly beneath my palm.

I melt into him, my body pressing against his as his wings flare behind him, cocooning us in shadow. His lips move against mine, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it, and I can’t help the soft sigh that escapes me as I kiss him back with everything I have.

It’s not enough. I want more. I need more.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, and I can see the same hunger in his eyes that I feel in my own chest. His forehead presses against mine, and his voice is a ragged whisper when he speaks.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along my lower lip. “Wanted you for so long.”

I close my eyes, my heart full to bursting, and I press my lips to his once more. “I’ve wanted you too,” I whisper back, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “I think… I think I’ve always known.”

Azriel pulls me closer, and I rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. His wings wrap around us, sheltering us from the world, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel truly at peace. 

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[lucid-loves]

Personally His

Imagine: Simon Riley rewarding the 141’s personal assistant for doing a good job with putting up with him.

CW: MDNI, Smut, Office Sex, Slow and Deep, Praise Kink, Edging

You on his desk, your back arching against the smooth oak as he runs his hands over your hips. Simon Riley loves looking down at you, blouse buttons open, pencil skirt hiked up, new tights ripped to reveal your dripping cunt. Every now and then, his hands will squeeze your thighs hard, making you gasp and quiver before he massages the pleasurable pain away. 

“You’ve been such a good assistant, love~” He praises in his deep, husky voice that never fails to give you shivers. While you were everyone’s personal assistant within the 141 team, Simon was quick to make you his with rewards. This is one of them.

“I’ve never seen my desk so organized. You must’ve spent a long time fixing it for me. Such a good girl~” He continues, spreading your legs further apart to get a better look at you. You whimper, pussy clenching in anticipation for his cock. 

Everyone except Simon had been easy to take care of. He’s been messy, neglectful, and always busy. He’s snapped at you and been curt with you a few times too when you invaded his space. It wasn’t until you saved him from attending court for an unpaid parking ticket that he let you really help him out. 

After that, you’ve been rewarded for your work with flowers for your own desk, lunches on him, and now a good fuck over your hard work.

“S-Simon. . .” You sigh, senses on fire as you feel his tip press against your entrance. You are eager, but also nervous. You glance towards the closed and locked door, your heart shuttering. 

He takes your chin to redirect your attention onto him. His eyes behind the mask gaze at you hungrily. “Don’t worry, love. They won’t be back for a while. You’re all mine.”

His cock plunged into you before you can respond, bottoming out within a second. His hand covers your mouth, muting your near scream as you feel yourself stretch to accommodate his length. Plunging into a sudden orgasm, your body trembles and you struggle to catch your breath. Your hands go over his, gripping hard to try to regain some semblance of control. All you can see are stars.

He feels your pussy tighten around him, soaking him already in more nectar than before. You knew he's smirking under that dark mask. “You cum already, love? Someone must’ve been looking forward to this. Such a good girl~”

Electricity runs up your spine as he calls you the name you’ve been wanting to hear since your first day here. You were his good girl. His good little assistant.

He slowly rocks his hips, forcing you to feel every single inch of him. Forcing you to take him as deep as you can. It takes everything in you not to moan as loud as you want. To scream his name like he's equally yours. The team may have gone to a meeting, but it didn’t mean that passerbyers wouldn’t be able to hear the hot sex behind the door. 

Simon presses his hand against your lower stomach, making sure that you can feel all of him. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. Look at you, taking me so well.”

Your toes curl within your heels as he continues to thrust slow and deep. Biting your lip helps control the desperate whimpers that hung in that back of your throat. Suddenly, Simon thrusts hard, making you release that pretty voice that he has grown to like. Even when you were nagging him to take better care of himself, he wouldn’t want to hear it from anyone else. 

“Sorry for being difficult at the start. Promise to make it up to you, but I wanna hear your moans too.” He admits teasingly, pulling and pushing his hips hard to properly fuck you on his desk. The wet sound of your cunt reverberates throughout the office, making you blush.

You can barely take it anymore. He's fucking you hard, but still slow. You want more. He knows you want more by the way his exposed eyes crinkle with a hidden, devious smile. You had to beg for what you wanted. “P-Please, Simon, more!”

Your begging was only slightly rewarded. He settles your legs on his shoulders and presses your soft thighs down against the polished wood. Gloved fingers dig into your skin, only making you more aroused from his man-handling. But his movements are still only slow, deep, and hard. It keeps you away from another orgasm that you crave so badly. Edging you. While you do want more, you are enjoying feeling all of him please your pussy. 

He enjoys your heat pulling him in as well. Though, he can be a little more patient than you. He wants to make sure that your next orgasm will rock your world. That and he wants to enjoy his time with you before he had to share your attention with his team again. 

“Not yet, love. Be a good girl and be patient while I savor this some more.”

[vernons-girl]

doubts | yoon jeonghan

angst to fluff, wc:0.5k

You were spending some nice quality time with Jeonghan, curled up on your couch and watching a random drama to make the day pass a bit faster.

Usually Jeonghan would always comment the drama with you, that was your little thing, you two would always point out all the stupid things a character would do or say, sometimes if the drama was really bad you would even mute the sound and do your own dubbing to make it funnier than it was.

But tonight there was none of that.

Jeonghan was distant, the only thing you were cuddling was your blanket, not a noise aside from the TV could be heard, he even had the audacity to be on his phone instead of even faking giving attention to what was going on around him.

It wasn’t the first time it happened but you knew that everyone had their bad days so you never thought much of it, you were pretty understanding so you’ve always let it slide, but this time it really hurt your feelings.

And as you were so lost in those thoughts, your walls broke and your eyes starting to water and you breathed out loudly, a shaky and long breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

And this, this caught your lover’s attention, he didn’t think twice and came closer to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and pulling your face eye level to his by softly and carefully putting his hand on your face, fingertips almost shy to make contact with your now warm skin.

“Baby what’s wrong ?” he whispered, as if he was scared to startle you by speaking too loud. 

“Do you even still love me ?” you let out between shaky puffs of air. Jeonghan's eyes widen at your statment, “What ?” he asked in disbelief, “I - Y/N baby where is this coming from ? Of course I still love you. I would not be here otherwise.” he said bluntly, you knew Jeonghan could be harsh with his words sometimes but he was never a liar, he was always honest even though that meants he had to be too blunt from time to time.

But you trusted him, you wanted to trust him and believe that he hadn’t fallen out of love with you. He saw the doubt in your eyes and kept on going, “I know I’ve been kind of a dick these days, I am aware” he said making the both of you slightly chuckle, “And I am genuinely sorry for that but sometimes I just need to close myself off a little, you do that too sometimes but that doesn’t mean you don’t love me anymore, right ?” of course this was a rhetorical question but you still replied with a nod, “See ? I do love you Y/N, more than I ever loved anyone but I have these days where I just want to be with you even though it means just us being in the same room and doing our own thing, I still want to feel your presence because” he brought his face closer to his and said in between every kisses “I - love - you.” which didn’t fail to draw a smile on your face, “I love you too Hannie.” you confessed before kissing him again and pulling him into a hug.

And just like that, the both of you went back to your usual cuddles and comments in front of your drama.

[distantdarlings]

PARTY MONSTER // m. riddle

RATING: R / 2K words

Mattheo Riddle x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details, though mentioned that the reader is wearing a dress)

+ SUMMARY - You are invited to a Slytherin dorm party but cannot seem to find your friends anywhere. Your search is interrupted when someone else finds you. (Smut)

+ WARNINGS - Language, tension, sensuality, heavy kissing, petting, implied oral sex but not described, dom!Mattheo

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Party Monster - The Weeknd

---

The music overhead pounded throughout the stone halls. Dark green and blue lighting was strung from every possible hanger that could be found. A few green-flame candles hung suspended in the air above your head. The entire enormous room was coated in the house’s rich color.

Frankly, you were surprised none of the staff had been called down to see what the hell was going on. You figured one of the older students had put some kind of muting spell around the whole common room to keep everything private. The Slytherin common room was vast and intricately decorated. You’d only been inside of it a few times. Though students were not supposed to go into common rooms other than their own, you had been snuck in a couple of times for study sessions with some of your Slytherin friends. Because of this, you were a bit more comfortable finding your way around. 

You weaved through the dancing crowd, brushing past sweating, swaying bodies. You were dressed just about like everyone else but you still worried you stood out like a sore thumb. The general feeling of not belonging made you a bit nervous. Nobody had ever told a professor when you had been in here before but you couldn’t help but keep your head down as you looked for your friends. 

Since there were no classes tomorrow, you had agreed to come to this party, though you were now wondering if it was a mistake. The burning stench of firewhisky found its way to your nostrils, making your eyes water slightly. Somehow in your journey to track your friends down, a glass of the strong stuff found its way into your hand. You sighed in defeat and raised the cup to your lips. Hopefully, it hadn’t belonged to someone else.

After another few minutes of wandering aimlessly, you had just about given up on finding your friends when a set of long, dark fingers slid their way around your waist to the front of your stomach. You laughed at the slightly ticklish feeling and turned around.

“Emily, I’ve been looking—oh!” The smile on your face faded. Before you stood the exact opposite of your best friend. A darkened boy with an intoxicated smirk on his face. His eyes hung low almost like he was tired and his lips appeared slightly swollen. The hand not around you cradled a full-sized bottle of firewhisky. You willed your eyes not to widen as he tilted the ashen bottle back. His lips curled determinedly around the mouth of the glass container, the suction from his drinking forming a dark bleed around his lips. So that was why his lips were so swollen, you thought. Your eyebrows screwed together as you pushed that thought away from your mind.

“My name is not Emily,” the boy smirked, his hand falling away from your waist as you turned. 

“I know that—I’m sorry, I thought you were my friend,” you tried to explain. You struggled to pull your eyes away from his black ones, yet no matter how hard you tried, they just seemed to drag you deeper into them. 

“You know who I am?” he asks. You knew who he was. Mattheo Riddle. He was infamous within the walls of this castle. Everyone knew who he was. They knew his attitude, his friends, or his body and you happened to know all three. By acquaintance, anyway. A girl that sat behind you in your Herbology class had—apparently—slept with him a few months ago and had managed to describe everything about him. She, fortunately, did not leave out a single detail and that, along with seeing Mattheo in the hallways on the way to class, had been the subject of your fantasies for a while now. 

You finally pulled your eyes away from his and looked down at your painted nails. He got around often and quickly and you knew that. He wasn’t actually interested in you, he—

His fingers gently slipped beneath your chin. He tilted your face up to look back at his. Your eyes fluttered as you struggled to not look away. It was honestly hard to look straight at him. The expression on his face and the firewhisky beginning to broil in your system started to make this whole situation seem better and better. What had you been saying? He wasn’t actually interested in you? He was just a player?

His tongue slipped between his lips to gently wet them. He never broke eye contact with you. Your eyes glanced down at the bottle in his free hand. He caught the change in your line of vision and chuckled darkly.

“Head back, love,” he cooed, pushing your chin back slowly and raising the bottle. 

You were not going to fuck this boy.

***

His room was dark and smelled lightly of candle smoke and something rather…earthy. Mattheo walked past the extinguished fireplace on the left wall and further into the room. You felt his fingers unfurl from yours as he tossed his wand onto the bedside table, the wooden object hit the surface with a clatter. He whispered something and the fire to your left erupted in flames. It was bright and too warm for your liking but the boy it illuminated was cut like David.

Mattheo walked back over to you. His softly carved fingers traced slowly up your arms. Though you wore a long-sleeved dress, you could still feel the boy’s fingertips through the material. A shudder passed through you as his eyes found your lips. 

He pressed his hand tightly against the small of your back, pulling you close against his body. You recognized this position as the one that he had done while he was dancing out in the common room only moments before. Your hips melded against Mattheo’s as you let him roll you back. You closed your eyes as you allowed Mattheo to support you, your hands clutching the collar of his white shirt. You felt your back crane against his hand, as the boy pressed his head in the crook of your neck. You hid a smile as your fingers slid in his curled hair. His lips and tongue found purchase against your soft skin. Your fingers tightened in the strands and didn’t release when he groaned against your neck. 

It was endearing how Mattheo seemed to incorporate sex into everything, but you knew it was probably more of a teenaged-boy-hormone thing rather than an artistic thing. Mattheo was an experienced boy, that much was clear, but you weren’t. You’d never gone further than kissing but the way that Mattheo moved your body within his hands made you feel like you’d always known. Like you’d always felt that rhythm that Mattheo kept in his body. Maybe that was a bad thing, but at this moment you didn’t care. Mattheo’s lips against your skin and the firewhisky in your blood seemed to dull a lot of caution.

He pulled you as close to him as you would go. Your lips trembled as the boy walked you backward to his bed, molding his red lips against your chest. You weren't sure how you felt about this, feeling a boy's touch and wanting more. If your parents knew what you were up to right now, they'd murder you but this was your small way of rebelling against them. You were a young student, for Merlin’s sake, you figured it was time for you to have a little fun. Being magical was the greatest thing that ever happened to you, but now you wanted to experience a little bit of mundanity as well. No magic, no spells, no potions, just your bodies moving together.

"K—" you breathed out, your chest shuddering beneath the pressure of the other's closeness.

"What?" Mattheo asked, his eyes flicking up to yours.

You looked into his eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall into them. You wanted to fill the brunette's arms wrapped around you and his cold lips on your chest. You wanted to feel his heartstrings wrap around your throat and suffocate you. You no longer cared about any consequences at the moment, you just wanted him.

"Kiss me." 

Mattheo exhaled shakily and pressed his lips to yours, holding your face in place with his firm fingers. You wrapped your arms around his neck, attempting to be closer to him in any way possible. 

You felt Mattheo’s hands fall away from your back and slip beneath the underside of your thighs. You let out a gasp as he lifted you off the ground and pressed you to the wall just beside his bed. The feeling of the stone behind you and Mattheo’s rough body in front of you made you shudder with delight. Your legs tightened around his waist, pressing his belt buckle tightly against you. Black spots appeared at the corner of your eyes.

The brown-haired boy's lips melded perfectly with your own, allowing you to see that this was what you wanted. 

You unwrapped your legs from the other's tight waist, placing your feet gently on the floor. You pushed Mattheo backwards and over to the bed. The boy fell against it and allowed you to straddle his hips.

“Baby,” he let the word slide out slowly as your hips slid against his. His head tilted back against the bed, exposing his throat so perfectly to you. You laid down against him and bruised his throat. If Mattheo was a player, you were the end to that. Every touch and whisper of a breath against his bare skin had him keening for you like you were oxygen and he was drowning. 

He pulled your lips back to his own, feeling the way your chest pressed so beautifully against his own. You let out a small moan at the taste of Mattheo’s tongue.

He brought his fingers up to your hair, burying them within the soft strands. Your chest rumbled against Mattheo’s at the feeling of the boy gently tugging on your hair. He chuckled meanly at the reaction he pulled out of you. His fist suddenly closed tightly around your hair, yanking your head to the side. You whined at the sudden pain in your scalp as he rolled the two of you over.

The brunette's hands quickly traveled down to your waist, pulling the hem of your dress up to your waist. His nimble fingers found their way to the thin panty straps on either side of your hips. The white lace contrasted gorgeously with his honeyed skin as his fingers curled the fabric tightly within themselves.

“Don’t rip those,” you growled when the tension being applied to the fabric started to become too much. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he responded in the same tone.

“Mattheo, I’m serious—they were fucking expensive,” you gripped the hair at the front of his scalp, holding his head back to look you in the eye.

“All for me?” he whispered, his fingers still not releasing the straps of fabric. 

“All for whoever was going to get it tonight,” you joked, warning him with your eyes. “You think you’re special?” 

His eyes darkened at my words. I was lying through my teeth. He was special and, truly, had been the reason you dressed up for tonight. You’d already been crushing for months, so you figured it was time to try and act on it a bit. If it didn’t work, you’d drop it and move on. But if it did… 

“Nobody else out there would ever make you feel like I would,” he growled, his fingers snapping the fabric finally. You yelped in protest at the beautiful torn fabric settling on either side of you.

“You dick—”

“Shut the fuck up—I’ll buy you new ones,” he settled himself between your thighs. “Won’t be the first time I do it either.”

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous comment, trying your best not to just kick him right where he was. He was goddamn annoying but, fuck, did he look good down there. His eyes watched you closely, his head tilting slightly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks. 

“Wondering if I go and get Blaise, this will go any faster,” you smirked, knowing that would rile him up. His smile faded and his eyes darkened once more. He gripped the back of your thighs roughly, digging his fingernails into your fleshy skin, and yanked you to the edge of his bed as fast as he could. 

“We’ll see if you still want Blaise by the end of tonight.”

[sturnlova]

Gonna hear you (M.S)

(Matt Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning : Smut of course , fluff, new to writing, long asf sorry i got carried away 😭 , not proofread but when is it? that’s all i think )

( Word count : Around 850 )

( Send requests!!!)

Y/N POV:

I walked in the house shared with Nick, Chris and my boyfriend Matt and placed my keys on the key bowl on the wooden table. I could hear muffled screams saying “You IDIOT!!“ “How’d you mess it up” “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT“ i knew at this point they were playing Fortnite i didn’t know if they were streaming though.

I walked into Nick’s room to say hi as i always do, stumbled my way to Chris’ room and gave him a hi before i walked to matt room. I finally reached matt’s room kissed him on the cheeks and moved his headphones to whisper in his ear “hi pretty boy, how are you you?” he blushed at my words and pressed a button on his keyboard to say “ hi sweetheart i’m good, but better now that your here “ I looked at the camera as he unmuted and waved a quick hello.

His stream was going crazy as they read what our mouths said and went wild over the nick names, it made me giggle.

Time skip

I just finished my shower and left my clothes on matt’s bed well he was still on stream. Fuck. What do. i called matts name as he went on mute and asked “what’s wrong? “ I stepped to show my naked body but still out of frame for them steam couldn’t see me.

All his blood travelled straight to his pants and made an obvious bludge in grey sweatpants, i couldn’t help but giggle at the fact i made him this way.

He turned his camera off and threw me my top but nothing else. He instructed me to his lap, i quickly followed like a dog following the smell of food. He pulled his pants down and jerked his 8 and half inches before allowing his self in me. We have tried cock warming a couple of times it always ended in him fucking me.

He turned the camera on along with the mic, i could hear Nick and Chris talk about how he was such a simp for me. Matt just told them to shut up and continued the game of Fortnite for an hour or two. Every time he would laugh or get angry he would thrust up and make me whine.. i moaned a bit to loud into the mic a bit to many times. fuck i could not stay quiet for the life of me. Matt moved his hands to my hips and squeezed them to tell me to shut it along with his whisper yell“ There gonna hear you”

But holy shit i couldn’t handle it, i started to grind on him and didn’t stop, matt turned his camera and mic off and told me if i didn’t stop his gonna end up fucking me.. but shit that didn’t sound like a bad idea ?? He turned everything back on and i continued doing my actions. Matt game skills were shit at this point, i could hear Nick say “ Matt are you feeling okay? your game is worse than mine lmao 🤣” Matt responded with “ actually i’m not feeling that good, ima head off now..” They said there byes and matt said bye to chat and turned discord call off along with twitch.

Matt took me off his lap and spoke into my ear “ you wanna be a slut and want my brothers and over 20k people hear you moan? knowing they are gonna hear, than your gonna get fucked like one.” the way he spoke just made me get wetter to the point were i was leaking onto my thighs since i had no underwear one.

He gave me no warning and thrusted into me.. he didn’t need to stretch me as he already cock already did the job. Fuck the speed he was at was a speed that i’ve never experienced, but holy shit i loved it. I was begging under him, screaming his name like a chant.

After 3 orgasms and Matt not stopping i couldn’t even moan i just had my mouth in a ‘o’ shape and heavy loud breaths. I couldn’t take it anymore and matt saw it on my face and spoke “ you can take it i know you can, i can take it so can you, plus remember you’re the one who couldn’t wait, one more baby please baby i know you got this” i really couldn’t. Shit after he kept going i couldn’t do it i screamed out safe word “ketchup” repeatedly. i know it’s a silly safe word but it worked.

Matt stopped immediately and was so worried asking if i was okay and if he went too far, I reinsured him telling him i was okay and that i was more than okay i just couldn’t handle the over stimulation. Matt hurried off to the bathroom and grabbed a wet hand towel to clean me up and then cleaned him self up.

Matt checked his phone and saw 3 messages from chris …

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,790

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

You groan and squeeze your eyes tight as you snuggle into the pillow you’re holding, too comfortable to be bothered with whatever is trying to disturb you. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

The noise grows louder, and you scoff as you peek your eyes open, muted sunlight shining behind the curtains of your room. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you push yourself upright, pressing a hand to your head as you feel the reverberation in your skull from having a few too many glasses of wine last night. 

After Lisa’s message and your inability to find a backup rental, you definitely drank more than you intended as you attempted to relax on the broken-in couch and tried to focus on the cheesy Hallmark romance you had found on Netflix. But you had failed and drank until you felt sleepy enough to effortlessly pass out in the bed that would be yours for the next month. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You throw the covers off and storm to the door that leads to the bedroom porch. You peek behind the curtain and see the owner standing there, his foot tapping with impatience as he raises his fist to the door again, the morning sun shining bright behind his broad silhouette. 

You grunt and shake your head at the sight before you grab a hoodie and step outside, your toes curling underneath you as they make contact with the frozen wood of the deck. You cross your arms over yourself in an attempt to keep the morning cold from stealing any body warmth as your jaw tightens.  

“Can I help you!” You shout, raising a hand to cover your eyes from the sun as your warm breath appears in front of you. The man turns to face you, seemingly surprised to see you on the opposite deck. He hurries down the steps and takes a few long strides before stopping in front of your porch. 

“How much’s it gonna cost?” He demands, his spiked, brown hair reflecting in the rays sneaking through the bare branches of the trees around you. You squint your eyes at him.

“Excuse me?” You bite back, confusion and disgust deepening your voice. You have no idea what the hell this guy was on, and you take a step back towards the door, ready for a quick getaway if need be. 

“To get you out of here.” He clarifies. “How much?” 

You close your eyes and shake your head. It was far too early for this and you were a tad hungover. It takes a moment for his words to make sense.

“You’re offering to pay me to leave the rental?” He just responds with tight lips and raised eyebrows, seemingly annoyed that you’re just now catching on. The action draws your attention to his eyes, and for the first time, you notice his strikingly green irises, dark like the forest around you in warmer months. 

You cross your arms and think. You wanted out of this situation just as much as he seemingly wanted you gone. Problem was, you had looked into other listings last night, with it being such short notice, prices were high and options were low. Even if he paid off your rental, it was still going to cost you a pretty penny to change spots since Lisa had priced the rental at such a steep discount. 

Which you now knew why. 

Not to mention you wouldn't have access to your apartment until your little “vacation” was over. 

But between the rude wake up call and his bad attitude, you had enough. 

“Look,” You snap and point a finger at him. “I’m not here to be the pawn in your divorce game. I came here to relax. Problem is, every other place I’ve looked at in the area is either sold out or way more expensive than here, and I can’t afford it. You wife-”

“Ex wife-” He interjects curtly. 

“Whatever,” you snarl at his interruption. “Rented this place for a good deal, and considering I don’t have a job right now, I can’t really afford to go somewhere else.” 

“If you don’t have a job, what the hell are you doing here then?” He challenges, crossing his arms and matching your stance.  

“That’s none of your business.” He tsks his tongue and throws his head back with an exasperated sigh. 

“Look,” You lower your voice, hoping a calmer tone will help ease the situation. “Unless you need this house for anything, I promise I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t bother you, and you’ll barely know I’m here. But I already paid Lisa and I don’t have any other options, so you’re stuck with me.”

The man takes a deep breath through his nose and purses his lips.  

“Fine.” He snaps. “Enjoy your freakin’ vacation.” He huffs before he storms away from the porch and back to the main house. You shake your head at his antics.

Like a toddler having a temper tantrum. 

Between Lisa’s bitchy attitude and his man-child behavior, it’s a wonder how those two ever actually liked each other enough to get married. 

But that wasn’t your problem. Since he begrudgingly agreed to let you stay, you decided it was time to finally settle in and actually unpack.

You step inside, your body uncoiling in the warmth of the bedroom. You wander over to your nightstand and tap your phone awake to see it’s 6:54am. 

Actually, you could unpack later, for now, you were getting back into bed.

Dean huffs as he flies back into the house, slamming the door behind him. He really didn’t like the idea of someone staying on his property, especially a complete stranger sent here by his vindictive ex-wife. 

But unless he was willing to shell out cash to get her out of here – cash he didn’t really have considering he was in the middle of a two-year long divorce – he was stuck with her. 

For fuck’s sake. 

Dean runs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath. At least she said she would stay out of his way. He never used that house anyways. 

The last time that house was used, Lisa was sneaking in her now fiancé, Gavin. Since then, Dean’s had no real interest in stepping foot inside the guest house, and he wasn’t one for solo hot tubbing. He’s used it a few times with some women he’s brought back in an effort to make himself feel better, but he always took them back to the main house before things progressed.  

Dean shakes himself out of his thoughts and grabs his coffee tumbler and keys and heads back out the way he came, this time locking the door behind him before jumping into his truck and peeling out of the driveway. 

Dean grinds his teeth as he drives through town, his mood effectively soured by the bullshit Lisa decided to throw at him this week. It wasn’t enough that she imploded their marriage, she couldn’t let him live in peace. 

When he pulls into Singer’s Auto Repair, his knuckles are white as he takes his usual parking spot and he slams the truck door shut with more force than necessary, but he doesn’t care as he stomps over to the faded navy building and unlocks the front door, the first one to arrive for the morning.

Which wasn’t a surprise. When Bobby Singer finally decided to retire, he offered Dean a managing partnership in the shop. Dean had been working for Bobby since he was sixteen years old, and after Dean’s father had unexpectedly passed a couple years later, Bobby filled that gap in Dean’s life. So Dean wanted to make sure he made Bobby proud. He was regularly the first one to arrive each morning; setting up the shop with coffee and making schedules for the day. Dean enjoyed the quiet mornings. It gave him time to settle into the day, and also the opportunity to control the radio. 

But this morning was not a usual morning. Instead, Dean trudges around the shop, doing his usual task list but not finding the relaxation the routine typically brings him. 

He decided to get a head start on the first car for the day, giving himself something to focus on that wasn’t Lisa or the woman holding his guest house hostage. 

“‘Mornin’, boss.” Benny’s voice rings out through the quiet garage not long after Dean gets started. “Radio not workin’?” He asks as he settles his belongings into his locker, hanging his newsboy cap that he has an affinity for as he notices the absence of the morning rock show that Dean typically starts the day with. 

“Don’t really feel like music this morning,” Dean grumbles from underneath the car he’s working on, tightening the last bolt on the oil pan before wiping his slicked hands on his coveralls and wheeling himself out from underneath the Nissan Altima that was due to be picked up this afternoon. 

“Let me guess,” Benny smirks down at Dean as he zips up his monogrammed jumpsuit. “Lisa?”

Dean just responds with a shake of his head before heading over to the work sink and washing away the rest of the oil. 

“What she do this time?” Benny continues his own routine, taking a look at the schedule to see where he’s needed first. 

Dean shuts off the tap and rests his hands against the basin. 

“She rented the guest house out on AirBNB or something.” Dean shakes his head. “Some girl is staying there.”

“Whacha mean she’s renting it out?” Benny grabs his toolbox, not letting the conversation distract him from the work that needs to be done as he starts to get set up in front of a Kia Optima that’s almost as old as his tween daughter. 

Dean breathes out a deep breath and turns in his spot, resting against the sink as he crosses his arms, the navy coveralls crinkling at the movement.

“She’s not letting up about getting the property, so she’s decided to annoy me into giving it to her by renting it out. And some fucking lady is renting it for a month!” He throws a hand off his bicep, emphasizing his frustration. Benny just nods his head. 

Benny was a homegrown boy, he was a few years older than Dean – his salt and pepper beard betraying his age – and he’s been around long enough to remember a time when Dean and Lisa were heart-eyed newlyweds who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. He was also there as things began to sour; Lisa stopped coming by the shop more and more, Dean complaining about Lisa almost every day, and when she hammered the final nail in the coffin of their marriage when Dean got home early one day and found her and her boyfriend in bed. 

He’s heard firsthand how petty their divorce proceedings have become, and it didn’t surprise him that Lisa was turning to more creative tactics to get her way. 

“Can she do that?” Dean shrugs.

“No clue. I gotta ask my lawyers, but she knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s trying to run me dry until I’ve got nothing left and have to give in.” Benny sighs, shifting his jaw left to right as he scratches his beard.

“Dean, you sure this is the path you wanna go down?” Benny’s shoulders drop with the question. Dean just licks his lips and looks away. It wasn’t the first time Benny’s tried to convince him to just walk away. But Dean was stubborn and pigheaded. They both knew Dean was going down a bad road dragging on this divorce, but he was refusing to back down. 

“What about the woman staying there?” Benny decides to shift the conversion. “Does she know Lisa?” Dean shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. She thought I was breaking in when I confronted her yesterday. Told me she was gonna call the cops.” Dean huffs in a half laugh at the memory and Benny snorts. 

“I woulda love to seen Jody come down there and try to arrest your ass for trespassing on your own land.” Benny chuckles with a shake of his head and Dean joins him, the tension in the air dissipating. Exactly what Benny was hoping for. 

The side door opens and Linda hobbles in, offering nothing but a grunt and a wave as she makes her way to the front office. Dean and Benny wave back, even though she doesn't bother to face them. She’s just as, if not, grumpier than her younger brother, Bobby. She’s retired five times over the past few years but always manages to find her way back to the office when she “doesn’t feel like sitting on my ass just to wait around and die” anymore. 

As the rest of the crew begins to trickle in, Dean and Benny return to their work and let the day begin.

The clock on the microwave reads 12:59 by the time you finish unpacking and settle into the quaint cabin. You thankfully fell back to sleep for a few more hours, this time awakening to the sounds of the local forest, and not some manic divorcé at the ass crack of dawn. You also managed to sleep off your “wine headache” as your mother referred to it as, which you were grateful for as you weren’t planning on hanging on the couch all day. Sure, hangovers were a hell of a lot worse at 29 than they were at 25, but you were grateful they weren’t totally putting you on your ass just yet. 

As you shove your emptied suitcase into the hallway closet, you decide it’s a good time to head into town and one, explore, two find a good lunch spot, and three, pick up some groceries. It was also a good time because you were starving and had no food other than the morsels of leftovers you had brought up with you that you had pretty much finished for dinner last night. 

You throw on some jeans and a warm sweater, the weather app on your phone showing a meager 27 degrees. You give your hair a quick brush and swipe on some concealer, blush, and mascara before you grab your keys and coat and head out the door. 

You hum along to the local classic rock station as you pull into town, parking spots along both sides of the street only partially full on this Tuesday afternoon. You take the first spot at the edge of town, wanting to give yourself the opportunity to walk the full length of main street.

You tuck your hands into your gloves and pull your beanie over your ears before you venture out, zipping your coat tight against the wind as you begin your stroll, spotting the shops you noticed yesterday when you first drove through. As you continue down the near-empty sidewalks, golden letters hanging onto the red-brick façade catches your eye: BILLIES DINER. The English snob in you scrunches your nose at the missing apostrophe, but it’s the only restaurant you’ve seen so far, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore your growling stomach. So you hurry across the street, taking a quick peek through the store-front window, surprised to see it fairly full, before you step inside, rubbing the cold out of your hands as you wait at the hostess stand. 

The diner isn’t very wide, but it is deep, with booths and tables along the left side and your typical breakfast counter along the right. 

“Sit wherever ya want, hun.” The curvy woman behind the counter calls out to you. Your eyes roam the room, most booths already taken so you wander over to the counter and take a seat at the corner, closest to the door. There are a few barstools between you and the next person, an older gentleman with a stack of newspapers. He catches your eye and you give him a smile, which he returns before continuing his reading. 

A glass of water and a menu appears in front of you, the woman behind the counter greeting you with a smile. 

“Specials on the board,” She points to a chalkboard towards the end of the diner, various colors of chalk spelling out fleeting fares. “Just give me a wave when you know whatcha want.” 

You give her a nod and flip open the menu after she heads to the opposite end of the counter, grabbing the coffee decanter as she goes. You bypass the breakfast pages, heading straight for lunch. For a small place, they sure had a lot of food options; pages of appetizers, sandwiches and lunch entrees to choose from.

A balsamic chicken panini catches your eye and you wave down the waitress, putting in your order with a side of fries and a Diet Coke.

As you wait, you drum your fingers against the laminate countertop and purse your lips, taking in olive walls, walnut furnishings, and upholstery that matches the paint. The walls are decorated with a mix of nature paintings and framed news clippings, mismatched together in no apparent design. Your eyes continue to scan the room when you catch sight of the side profile of one of the patrons; a distinct jaw line, covered in scruff that matches the spiked hair on top of his head. 

Oh shit.

Just this morning you said you would stay out of this way, now here you were showing up where he was having lunch. He was going to start thinking you were following him, or maybe even colluding with Lisa to bother him.

You’re about to turn away, but the bearded man sitting across from him catches your eye and offers a soft smile as he says something across the table. You swallow, quickly turning in your seat just as the homeowner begins to face you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, listening as heavy footsteps grow closer. You feel someone move next to you, and as you peek one eye open, the homeowner is sitting on the barstool next to you, arms crossed on the countertop. 

“Thought you were going to stay out of my way.” He drawls, his features impassive as his full lips rest in a tight line. As the afternoon light shines in through the front, the green of his eyes 

shimmer and his hair looks blonder than it did this morning. As he sits a mere foot or so away from you, you realize just how strikingly handsome he is. 

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable from his proximity now having realized that the homeowner was actually a babe. God damn. 

“I meant it.” You start quietly and quickly clear your throat. “I was just taking in downtown and it was the only place I saw that had lunch.” His green eyes narrow and you almost miss the tick up in his lips.

“And the only place worthin comin’ too.” The waitress appears again, her bright smile a deep contrast to her umbre skin as she places your meal in front of you. Once her hands are free, she rests one on the counter and the other on her hip as she leans in. 

“Dean, are you bothering the tourists?” She smirks at him and the man, Dean, straightens up in his stool and returns her smile. 

“I’m hoping if I bother her enough she'll up and leave.” He quips with a raise in his brows. The woman frowns at him.

“I’m staying in his guest house.” You clarify, picking up a fry and taking a bite, not being able to resist the smell as your stomach cramps in hunger. “His wife rented it out to me.” You say over the potato.

“Ex-wife.” Dean corrects you again. This time you raise your brows and shrug at the waitress as you enjoy another fry. 

The waitress then turns her gaze on you, and you lower your half-eaten fry under her hard gaze. 

“You’re friends with Lisa?” She asks incredulously, a layer of anger simmering beneath her tone. 

You quickly shake your head.

“Not at all. She just rented the house to me on AirBNB.” You pop the rest of the fry into your mouth, ignoring the hard gaze hitting you from your periphery. “I only know about their relationship status because he keeps telling me about it.” You twist in your seat and meet Dean’s gaze with a lazy smirk as you chew on your fry. His eyes narrow and you watch as his shoulders tense. You may have felt intimidated by him just a minute ago, but now he was ruining your nice afternoon out. He could have just ignored you but he went out of his way to make a scene, so you were happy to give him one. 

The waitress just stares between the two of you slack jawed before throwing up her hands.

“Okay I’m staying out of this. I’ve got a restaurant to run.” She drops her hands. “Nice to meet ya, hun.” She gives you a smile before heading towards the end of the counter.

“Really though, why are you here?” Dean starts again once it’s just the two of you. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious.” You point down to your plate with raised brows and Dean mirrors your annoyance. 

“Look,” You put your thumb up. “First you wake me up at the ass crack of dawn by banging on my door like a lunatic, and now,” A second finger goes up. “You’re disturbing my lunch. I meant when I said I would stay out of your way, but you keep getting in mine.” You just shake your head. If anyone should be annoyed, it’s you. But your mom always told you to be the bigger person. So if it meant wiping the slate clean and having some peace with your pseudo landlord, so be it.

“How about we start fresh?” You smile tightly and reach out your hand. “I’m Y/N. Sounds like you’re Dean. Nice to meet you.” You relax your features, hoping to convey the genuinity in your gesture.     

Dean stares down at your hand, lips ajar before his eyes flick back to you. His tongue darts over his lips as he looks away for a moment before sighing.  “Fine.” He grunts before he pushes off the barstool and returns to his table, your hand still hanging in the air as he takes his seat. You just roll your eyes at his childish antics and turn back to your food, finally digging in as you think, what a fucking grump.

Keep Reading

NEXT TIME:

Dean went to high school with Nick. Grade A douchebag then and grade A douchebag now. He may have even broken Nick’s nose once senior year.  

He’s chatting with someone, definitely a woman.

Poor girl. Dean thinks as Jacob returns with the pitcher, and Dean thanks him. 

Dean heads back to the table, dropping the pitcher right in the middle before, for some reason, he takes a glance back towards Nick. And from this angle, he can see exactly the poor girl he’s talking to. 

Shit. 

It’s Y/N. 

Dean turns away, shaking his head. 

He should stay out of it. He and Y/N hadn’t crossed paths since their lunch run-in a few days ago, and he had planned to keep it that way. 

You’re an adult, and free to chat with whomever you want. Even if he’s a complete dickbag. 

But then he thinks back to a few days ago. How he was a total asshole to you, and he had regretted it. He was better than that. This wasn’t the guy he always was. 

Maybe this was his chance at redemption.

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[interpolanticssuperfan]

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 2 | 18+ only

warnings: none for this chapter except reader doesn't believe that ken isn't human and asks to touch his feet to prove it. its not going to be a thing, i promise lol. enjoy !! also i really hope my characterization of ken is good so far!!

So this is how you found yourself packing up your things, throwing a cursory farewell glance to Pat, who’d long abandoned watching your tense exchange in favor of flipping through an Avon brochure, and heading down the marble staircase with Ken glued to your side, chattering away at lightspeed the entire time.

“This is excellent. (Y/N), I just knew you’d be as kind as I thought you were. And now I never have to see the bridge guy again. You don’t have a change of clothes, do you? I mean… I assume you have plenty of dresses, jumpsuits, blazers, things like that, but I could really use something that accentuates my chest a little better. Unless you like it covered up. Do you like it covered up?”

“Aren’t you sweating your ass off in those clothes? And who is the bridge guy?” You give a slight tug at the hem of his jacket, pushing open the glass double doors for the both of you and nearly gasping at the hot wall of humid air washing past, embracing your skin in a rush. 

Ken turns, locks his confused eyes with your inquisitive ones. As your hand flies away from him, Ken follows your fingers, like he’s upset that you didn’t actually touch him. “What do you mean? I feel fantastic in these. It’s my white denim. But if you… do you like them?”

“I… well, I don’t know what your chest looks like, but I’m sure it looks… great.” Your cheeks flushed as you stole an unbidden glimpse in his general direction, shouldering you as if he was convinced he’d disappear if he wasn’t essentially tethered to you. 

“You really think so? Then I’ll keep it on. I bet I can wear this for a whole week and not even get a single wrinkle. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.” 

Without asking, you chance a risky move, placing your fore and middle finger to the back of Ken’s neck where his hair dips down. The sunlight doesn’t seem to bother him, the punishing heat isn’t making him groan with exhaustion, and to your abject horror – there’s not a bead of sweat on him: Ken’s sun-kissed skin is frigid to the touch. Rigid, he felt wax-like, resembling the mold of a man. 

In the middle of the looping sidewalk that wraps around to the block you live on, Ken freezes with a gasp, reflexively shoots his hand up to clasp around your wrist where you’re feeling him. For a moment, neither of you speak, you just allow yourself to stare into his eyes which are very much undeniably alive, bright blue with inexplicable life and bounding to chase yours, melting into your grip.

“Why aren’t you hot out here.” It doesn’t come out as a question. Ken begins to sense your hesitation, doesn’t drop his firm fingers from your hand. “It’s the middle of summer, Ken.”

You hear a passerby shove past you, can feel their leashed dog traipse by your knees, you can hear a car horn honking at traffic, but all of it feels muted, feels futile, the volume turning down on every possible source of stimulation save for Ken’s eyes, Ken’s icy cold neck.

He isn’t smiling, but he doesn’t back down from the question. “I told you. I’m not…” Ken looks upwards to the clouds, quirks an eyebrow as if drafting his response with immense care. As if he had been up there before. Like he’d never thought this hard about anything. “I’m not from here. You’re a human.”

“And you’re supposed to be – what?” 

“I don’t really know how to explain it. No one’s ever… I guess no one’s ever cared to ask me about it.” With his eyes still trained on yours, you press your fingers a little harder against a cord of muscle where a visible vein pokes out, feebly exploring for a pulse point, just to find that Ken had no heartbeat, either.

This pressure between you both seemed to pull a reaction from Ken, who at once slammed his eyes shut and sucked in a harsh breath, inching his head back and baring more of his not-skin to you. You felt that if Ken could have a pulse, it would be racing right about now. 

“Are you. Are you dead?”

You feel ridiculous. You feel faint. Your body wants to look every which way, maybe waiting for a prank show host to reveal themselves with a raucous cast and crew, pointing and laughing at the fool who fell for the “living wax figure” bit, and you’d smile for the camera and go home and forget this ever happened. (Mind destined to wonder how the hell they made their dummy so believable, so lifelike, so… alive.)

But no one came, and no one laughed, and glassy eyed Ken kept staring at you, scrambling for an answer to your loaded question.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Do you eat?”

“Never tried. But there’s a bunch of food in Barbieland. It’s more for decoration, if that makes sense. Sorta like clothes. An apple here is very different from an apple there. Trust me.”

Sudden shakiness claiming your knees, you knew you’d have to find a place to sit soon or you were liable to fall over in the middle of the sidewalk, which would pose a massive problem for you and your new cargo (friend?) who claimed to neither sleep nor eat, let alone seemed capable of getting you medical help.

These newest revelations which you’d felt for yourself seemed to quickly overshadow the old worries which had plagued you – the stalking, the casing out your apartment, those were all old news now. 

Ken was one step ahead of you, noticed the pallor painting across your face, and without another word took your bag from your shoulder, slipping a shockingly strong arm around your waist effortlessly. “Come here. You look… really scared.” He jolted his head to find an unoccupied stretch of grass, then walked you both over to it, hand never leaving your back. 

Once you felt yourself on the ground, you were able to take a deep breath. Ken sat cross legged in front of you, your bag still strewn across his body, his face entirely drawn with intense concern. 

“(Y/N)?” The consideration in his tone was so palpable, you couldn’t help but to trust him, let him continue to keep his hand on you, just to make sure you were still with him. Black splotches had entered your vision but dissipated once you got your bearings, due in part to the reassuring feeling of Ken’s thumb pressed against the ball of your kneecap.

“I’m sorry, I. I don’t know what just happened. I didn’t mean to freak you out, Ken.” 

“You don’t have to apologize. Do you feel any better?”

In the middle of the day, broad daylight assailing your back, your cheeks, your arms, and still on the clock, you lifted your head up to address Ken. 

Ken, who had been there to help you, who had fixed you with such tenderness in his eyes and didn’t know the first thing about you. Ken, who glimmered in the sun, who waited five hours at the library by himself just for a chance at seeing you. Who had been bursting at the seams to show you a book about… horses.

“Did you really follow me home?”

Ken nodded, smile tugging at his lips. “I should have said hi. Would you have said hi back?” The way he balanced back on his tailbone revealed even more of his abdomen, his glistening muscles that managed to appear slick though they were devoid of actual sweat. Ken really did look to be covered in… well, lacquer, or some kind of perfect finish that made him perpetually shine.

“I think I would have said hi, yes. For sure. Why do you keep talking about – um. Barbie? And please be honest with me.” 

Ken didn’t miss a beat, looked down to where his thumb was still resting on your leg. “Don’t freak out again. You don’t have to worry about her, by the way – we are not a thing anymore.” He pointed tersely with his free hand. 

“That’s not what I was wondering… about.”

“I’d rather you hear it from me first, (Y/N). I’m from Barbieland. That’s what I was trying to explain before. You know Barbie and Ken? That’s me. I am Ken.” A laugh would be appropriate, but you didn’t feel like giving one. Not considering the dead serious look Ken wore as he talked, measured and severe.  

“Okay. So… okay. What does that mean? You live… like a Ken doll? Like extreme cosplay? Plastic surgery to look like him and stuff like that?” 

“I don’t know what roleplay is. I am literally Ken.” He blinks at you, waiting for the cogs to turn, waiting for it to click for you.

“A mega Ken fan.” You might be in denial still. 

Growing frustrated, Ken snatches your hand back to his lower neck, brusquely forcing your clammy fingers into the dip right above his clavicle, the base of his throat to prove his point.

“See? I don’t feel like you. Feel yours, and then feel mine. I’m not lying. Why would I lie about who I am?” With your other hand that Ken hadn’t captured, you did as he said and mirrored the motion, felt your arduous pulse, blood coursing through your veins, and felt speechless again at the sensation of nothingness coming from the guy who looked more male than any man you’d actually seen.

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve never been to a doctor?”

“Oh, Barbie is a doctor. But I haven’t needed to see her for anything in a while. She used to call me accident prone. Or attention seeking. I can’t remember which one.”

“Right. Have you ever been sick?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Of course not.

“Broken a bone?”

“Don’t think I have those,” Ken pressed on, returning your nervous hand to your lap. He then stretched his leather-covered legs out across the gross, positioning them to the side of your knees, and started playing with the strap of your bag. “This is pretty heavy. No one carries this around for you?”

“Is it okay if I touch your leg?”

“You can absolutely touch it. But, do you think I can do that for you from now on? Carry the bag?” Ken pleaded at you with his eyes, so open and honest and innocent like a newborn fawn, and you found it impossible to tell him no. Talking with him was almost like conversing with a child, and that made your skin crawl when coupled with the knowledge that you found him overwhelmingly attractive, impossibly beautiful, even. 

Jesus, the heat must be getting to you after all.

“Sure, you can carry my bag, Ken.” 

“Yes,” Ken celebrated privately, too initially excited to notice that you’d started prodding at his shin in little tentative bursts. At first, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, it just felt like… a leg. So you eyeballed his ankles, his feet where the cowboy boots sat against the grass, and Ken seemed to know what you were about to ask. “Do you wanna see my feet? Will you believe me then?”

“I know how crazy this might sound. But I think I kind of do need to see them. Is that okay?” You fought to suppress your embarrassed grin, but this only made Ken laugh.

And what a beautiful laugh he had. Boyish, charming, airy like an angel; something you wanted to keep hearing again and again until this self proclaimed “Ken” had run out of things to find funny.

Had you always been this easy?

Or was it just easy with him?

Ken bent forward immediately, removing his spotless white boots, to reveal bare, spotless feet, angled perfectly and without any sort of distinct smell. No calluses, no odd toenail, no hair. They enticed you to get closer, to touch them, but you realized how bizarre this looked and how odd Ken must feel. 

“I’m sorry, god, this is probably the weirdest day you’ve ever had, and I’m not making it any –” But as you looked up to give him this apology, Ken wore not an uncomfortable expression, but one instead of… unnamable, sober emotion. Like he was likely to break down in tears of relief the longer you regarded him with such curiosity.

“You don’t think I’m weird?” Ken asked, voice barely above a whisper. This response wasn’t what you expected, and you bit your lip, learning fast that Ken was as sensitive as he was bold. “When Barbie was here, people were awful to her at first, they were calling her horrible things and I don’t think I could…”

“I think that I have never met anyone like you. I think that… it’s insane that your feet are… I mean, can I touch them?”

This brings a hopeful spark to his face again, and he nods eagerly at your request, hungry to hear what you have to say. As if his future hangs on your opinion of him. As if he would die without your attention, good attention, bad attention, any of it. As if the prospect of being touched would save him from damnation, eternally.

All this to hold a stranger’s foot (a stranger with no heartbeat, a stranger with hypnotic blue eyes that could look so inviting looking down at you, would look even better blown open in surprise after a kiss, or – wait, why are you thinking about this?) on the grassy courtyard by a Catholic church while you’re still ignoring your work and still getting paid for every minute.

You knew there’d be more than a handful of angry emails waiting for you when you finally returned home.

But that could wait. It could all wait, because you scooted forward to cradle Ken’s bare foot in your lap, and you inspected with all the great care of a scientist inventing pharmaceuticals or something equally as important to mankind. He was right. It wasn’t like yours, his skin, his body wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. So… smooth. No hair except for Ken’s head of blonde, his arched brows. What kind of human being could live this long and not have a pimple on their face, no bumps or ridges on their feet, no scars anywhere whatsoever? You dragged your fingertips across the rounded arch, but again, nothing.

“You’re not even ticklish?”

“I’m not sure what that feels like.”

“Is Barbie ticklish?”

“I never tried tickling her.”

“You can feel me doing this, right?” Ken nodded, watched you caress him lightly, then with effort, as you squeezed tentatively. “So you can feel pressure.”

“Yeah, I can feel everything you’re doing.”

“But there’s no, like. It’s not tickling you, it’s not hurting you, it’s not. Sorry if this sounds weird, I promise I’m just trying to get information. Does it feel… good?” Something in you was begging you to just let go, stop worrying that this was probably the strangest day you’ve ever had, like you had anything else nearly as interesting going on besides quiche recipes in library magazines and buying lettuce for your guinea pig. 

Ken raises his light brown eyebrows, like he hadn’t considered this, face still content as he processed your handiwork, rotating in circles now and occasionally swiping up to his smooth ankle. The cuffs of his leather pants had rolled up and afforded you a bit of access to more skin, if you could call it that.  

“You’re the first person to touch my feet before. I don’t know… give me a second.”

“Should I stop?” Suddenly, you began to worry this might be putting Ken off. After all, you literally didn’t know him, and you’d asked him to show him your feet. Christ, you hoped he wasn’t taking you for a lunatic. You knew this was probably stupid. It was arguably unsafe – this guy had admitted to following you home. 

However, with context, you were beginning to understand this might be the only course of action that fit Ken.

“No – don’t stop. Please, keep going.” The tone he’d just used was vastly different from the others – it wasn’t quizzical, wasn’t reassuring or conversational. He sounded… pleased, voice almost cracking at the end as you pushed a little harder at where his ankle bone would be and felt none of the give a human would have, none of the pores or follicles of hair. You’d started to really start massaging him now, gently rolling your fingers across his lower shin and then moving back down to his feet, compressing him. 

How could this be real? It didn’t make any sense. You had half an idea to ask if you could try this on his neck, but when you looked up to gauge his physical state, Ken’s eyes hadn’t opened, but his mouth had fallen open in satisfaction, brows relaxed and easy. At first, he seemed peaceful, but when you stilled your breathing, you could hear him almost purring under your touch, like he’d never felt this before and wanted more – wanted something more acute. Something heightened. His chest rose and fell, mouth twitching as you worked, but you knew this was a peculiar way of getting to know someone, and you knew that Ken would probably never tell you to stop.

You gingerly laid Ken’s foot back in the grass next to his boot, and he snapped his eyes open, staring at you with a protest at the unexpected loss of contact.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I don’t know. This is weird. Am I making you feel weird?”

“(Y/N) – you’re making me feel incredible is what you’re doing. What’s that called, anyway?”

“A foot massage, I suppose. And it’s not something you typically do the first day you meet someone.”

Ken turned this over in his mind, evidently not picking up on the undercurrent of… something heavier than enjoyment he’d been displaying so openly, and put his boot back on.

“You don’t even need socks, huh?”

“Guess not. Can we do that again sometime? Maybe you can teach me how to do it for you? (Y/N), I promise I can learn really fast.” His mind racing a mile a minute, you had the good sense to rise above in this situation, regardless of how electric it felt to touch him – even if it was a little unorthodox.

You rose to stand once Ken had adjusted his (perfect) foot, and Ken held onto your bag like it was his job, clutching the strap with unnecessary force. 

“Maybe, Ken. Listen, I really need to get back to my apartment and keep working, my boss is probably furious with me. And. I also am sorry if that was weird, asking to see your feet and then… doing that. I promise I’m not a creep or anything.” Very convincing – great work, he’s sure to buy that.

“Don’t say that. Seriously, (Y/N), I do not want to hear you say that again. You’re not a creep – you’re amazing, you’re so smart – no one’s ever even been interested in seeing me like that, no one’s ever questioned that I’m a doll, so I –”

“Is that what it is?” You asked, feeling like the clouds may have parted and the word dancing on your lips the entire time finally made itself known to you. “You’re a doll?” Ken bounded to his feet in a fluid motion, something that would’ve been difficult for any normal man to do.

He made it look easy – made everything look easy.

Ken chuckled, couldn’t help but wear that irresistible grin as he waited for you to start leading the way, assuming that wherever you went, he would naturally follow. “You are so funny. I told you, didn’t I? I am Ken! That’s me.”

“That’s you.”

“That’s me, baby.”

It rolled off his lips a little too casually. It wrenched your heart to correct him – with Ken’s understanding of the world, he probably had no idea that touching someone’s bare feet in the middle of the day did not mean you were romantically involved. 

You wondered what he understood of romance. You wondered if he’d ever been touched anywhere else, what was underneath his pants, what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped massaging him, but this started to make your head spin with more ferocity than before.

“This is important, Ken, so please listen.”

“You got it.”

“People you’re just friends with – you can’t call them baby.”

“But we are friends. We are, right?”

“Yes – yes, we are friends. But baby is for when you’re with someone. You know?”

Ken chewed on this, followed you down the sidewalk even further, passing by a string of old houses.

“With someone.”

“Dating them. Seeing them. Committed and whatnot. You have that in… Barbieland too, don’t you?” It felt completely and utterly insane saying that sentence, but you were beginning to realize you’d have to stop caring about how you sounded when you talked to Ken if you wanted to get anywhere with him.

“Sort of. I meant it when I said you don’t have to worry about Barbie, okay? Don’t worry about that, (Y/N). We are just. Friends.”

This wasn’t going where you thought it would. For now, you decided to postpone educating Ken a little further on the boundaries you’d have to set – the ground rules to keep this from turning into something unfair. 

Ken smiled at your side, hated to tear away from your shoulder even to let other people pass, and for now it was enough to hear Ken call you ‘baby’ even if just once, and even if he had no idea what it really meant.

[rainbow--panic]

Yall I’ve been seeing all this Black myth wukong art and Ocs from other ppl and wanted to throw my hat in the ring as welll.

This is my oc and a quick lil sketch with the destined one

She isn’t my only JTTW oc but i drew the others in the style of LMK

Originally she was going to be a fox who, though the power of will and love for her little sister, went to find the Colossus star guardian dragon (My goddess character), becoming human and joined the destined one on his adventures in hopes that they could revive sun wukong and he could find the godddess.

But as I always do, I’m thinking about scraping that lore.

Instead, sticking with the fox theme, I was thinking that when the goddess was born, her uncle feared for her safety and didn’t want her to be alone, as she belonged to a family of physical, magical, and political power, so they grabbed a baby fox abandoned in the woods and granted it power. That fox became Tiānhuǒ. Not only did she serve as a friend to the goddess, but was also considered a sister and earned the role as her advisor.

As centuries past, she had witness the goddess go down to the mortal realm and be apart of a party traveling to the west, which she also briefly joined until she was able to convince her goddess to return back to heaven to complete her duties.

When sun wukong died, the goddess went missing. The first place Tiānhuǒ checked was a village the goddess and herself had looked after and grew, which is around the area of where she met the destined one and, to her dismay, the pig she had met all those years ago that she wished she would never see again. Originally she played the part of a warrior from that village looking for the goddess as the crops had began to wither and her people were plagued by sickness. She offered to help find the remaining bits of sun wukong, thinking that he would be the last person to know the goddesses whereabouts.

Her identity, which was “The immortal vixen Priestess” was revealed later on as a demon had outed her, being the only one to recognize her human disguise. Pigsy (bc I CANNOT remember his actual name and i am not looking it up bc reasons) wanted to kick her out of the small group with the argument of ‘you lied to us once, you’ll lie to us again’ which she fought with the fact that she IS a warrior who IS ‘from’ the village as that as where her starting point was, the crops in the village were withering and the people were sick, so she technically didn’t lie about anything.’ She also had a new relationship with the destined one whom she named Chén Yàn and her actually being an immortal fox wasn’t a deal breaker for him.

Now to describe interactions

Pigsty + Tiā= kinda a love/hate relationship. Like she talks down to him ad does not like him and is rude to him and him to her, but like, on the battle field that doesn’t matter, no matter what she looks out for her comrades, even if they ae annoying

Tiā + Yán= She was annoyed at first when he didn’t talk much and never really cared about that till one day he said something to her and she flipped her shīt like

“Oh my god, I thought you were mute and you were just ignoring me this whole time? I could have used your feedback so many times and you just stayed quiet?!”

I’m still working on how their relationship started but essentially after working side by side, back to back, with one another for so long and going through hell, she started t view him in a new light and it didn’t help that every time she felt sad, tired, hungry, thirsty, what have you, that he was there with everything she needed. She always tries to be logical and it didn’t help that her logical mind was telling her that all her needs are being met by this one man so she should marry him.

As for Yán, he sees how balanced she is, being able to be this polite, courtly, heavenly women, used to having power at her finger tips, but yet is not above calling a pig demon a bastard and getting into trouble. She isn’t afraid to speak up to anyone, and speaks to others with authority, even him. At times she has even spoken for him since, well selective mutism, and also in times where she feels he’s being disrespected.

But anyways this is them, enjoy! <3

[loveshotzz]

Punk!Steve Harrington x fem!goth reader

She’s Automatic

Summary: you’re always hot and cold but Steve can’t seem to get enough.

Warnings: 18 plus (no minors), weed smoking, mentions of drinking, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cream pie. Steve has nipple piercings 😈 the picture in the banner is not representative of readers skin tone, just used for aesthetic purposes. No skin tone is mentioned in this story.

Word count: 1.7k

Authors note: punk!steve has had me in a chokehold for weeks now. This is what you get because of it. Thank you to my wife @myobmaya for her laundry list of ideas. Also just wanted to thank @multiwongi for being nice enough to let me use their punk!steve edit in my banner, they have the best edits of him. Go follow!

Steve wanted you, making it more then obvious every time he’d drag his clearly very over stimulated friend to the bar. Hazel eyes lined with black always greedily taking in your curves. Watching the way you’d stretch and bend down behind the bar in tight leather skirts and cut up shirts leaving little to the imagination. Lug boots coming up to your thighs fishnets always covering the rest.

You entertained Steve’s flirting some nights, noticing the way his eyes would always catch the silver metal of your tongue piercing. It was fun to watch him get flustered when you’d lay it on just as thick. Even with his menacing appearance he was just another fumbling boy. On other nights you’d treated him as if he was nothing but a fly on the wall, going about your job like he wasn’t desperate to catch your attention. Never knowing what version of you he was going to get, the chase kept him hooked.

It had been a particularly long day, already staring down the barrel of an even longer night when Steve strutted up to bar. Lean legs covered in a pair of ripped black jeans, the snug fit leaving little to the imagination of what was underneath. His Leather jacket wrapped around his broad shoulders like butter, covered in patches of bands you’d never admit to him you liked. The white tank top underneath just sheer enough to see the outline of his hidden tattoos, a thick smattering of dark chest hair peaking out from the top. Pierced lips turning up into a smile, he had no idea tonight was finally his night.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t my knight in shining armor.” Kicking it off with a lean over the counter and a flutter of your lashes. Steve’s eyes widen not expecting you to be so warm. The last time he was here you’d ignored any sound of his voice, finally settling for Robin to order the drinks to which you responded to her almost immediately.

“Oh? I’m not a mute today?” Taking a seat on the stool in front of you, his tone is teasing but the smirk on his face tells you that you could ignore him any day of the week, and he’d still come crawling back just for you to look at him like this.

“Aww did I hurt your feelings Steve?” Giving him puppy eyes you jut out your black stained lip. “I didn’t mean it, sometimes I just like to be mean to boys. Nothing personal, promise.” Flashing him a devilish grin, his Adam’s apple bobs under his skin.

“I think I might be able to find it in my heart to forgive you gorgeous.” The blunt ends of his chipped black nails drum against the counter, his pink tongue darting out to play with the hoops sitting on the side of his bottom lip. “A think a shot of whiskey and a beer should really seal the deal.”

You knew the metal head he’d bring in here sometimes sold weed or at least had access to it, always smelling like he’d spent his whole day in a hot box. Your mood had you desperate for something the wasn’t liquor and Steve was probably your best shot.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.” Pushing yourself closer on your tippy toes, Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

“I’m-I’m listening.” Coughing into the back of his hand he tries to cover the nerves in the cracks of his voice.

“I’ve had a super shitty day, and there’s nothing I’d love more than a giant fat blunt.” Popping the T with emphasis you watch his eyes glaze over. “I bet someone like you could help me out with that yeah?”

Nodding eagerly you have to bite back your smile. “Maybe after work? I’ll help you out with these drinks, and can you help me out with my needs?” Looking up from under the hood of your lashes you trace your top lip with the tip of your tongue.

Eyes catching the metal in your mouth in it’s full form, he has to bite back his moan at the thought of what it would feel like against his skin.

Steve’s quick to nod, his love sick smile sealing the deal and with a wink you go and get him those promised drinks.

—

One short trip on the L and a half smoked blunt later is how you end up riding Steve’s porn star sized cock. In nothing but your fishnets with a hole ripped in the crotch courtesy of him, you bounce on it with the kind of vigor that has his toes curling at the end of his bed.

Blunt dangling from your lips your nails rake through his smattering of chest hair, eyes hungrily taking in the ink that covered almost every inch of his naturally sun kissed skin. The metal bars in his nipples catch in the glow of the TV in his room, a stream of late night music videos forgotten. Taking a long drag you roll your hips in a circle purposely clenching yourself around the base of him. Nails digging into the tops of your thighs, a breathy “shit” falls from his lips.

“That feel good or something baby?” Exhaling your hit in a giggle Steve’s cock twitches inside of you at the pet name, the deep forrest green and ocean blue of his eyes over come with the darkness of his pupils. You felt better then every late night fantasy he’d tugged himself to since he met you.

“God, you’re like fucking heaven.” Pussy drunk he starts babbling hips lifting off the bed to meet yours. “So fucking soft.” Thrust “tight” thrust “and wet.”

As if on queue the sounds of your slick squelching against his skin has a guttural groan rip through his throat. One hand pressing down firmly on his chest you push him flat against the mattress. Despite his stuttering hips he still listens taking your silent direction.

Watching you with expectant eyes as you lean forward. Taking the blunt from between your lips your black lipstick stains the end, touching the velvet of his bottom one with it you encourage him to take it. Big obedient eyes look up at you before wrapping his mouth around it, the heat of his tongue flicking against your finger tips as his cheeks hollow out taking a rip. Eyes rolling in the back of his head when his actions are enough to make you moan, the pretty sounds he earns only egging him on.

Dragging your nails across his skin you make sure to catch the small bars keeping his nipples at attention, lightly tugging as you go. Jaw clenching at the sensation, smoke seeps from around the blunt as his eyes screw shut.

Smirking at the mess you’re making of him, you dip your head down to collect one of his piercing in the heat of your mouth. Metal against metal his hips buck up hard enough for you to mewl around him. Grinding down while you nip at him with your teeth, a string of cuss words come spilling out from underneath.

Moving to the next one, you give it it even more attention. Swirling your tongue around the bar, the tip traces up the length of the metal flicking the sensitive nub of his nipple every time you move over it.

“Jesus - fuck.” Throwing his head back against his pillow, he takes the forgotten blunt out of his mouth half hazardly disposing of it in the ashtray next to you.

Too caught up to think about manners his long fingers tangle in your hair, yanking you up. Lips swollen from their assault on his chest he collects them in a searing kiss. Tongue immediately begging for entrance swiping it across the piercing of your lower lip.

Steve catches the your moan in his throat when your tongues battle for dominance in a sloppy mess of teeth and spit, his hands finding purchase on your hips. Fingers digging in hard enough to bruise flesh he pushes himself deep enough to hit the spot that has you trembling on top of him.

“Yeah? Right there?” Breaking from you long enough to be cocky, he doesn’t give you a chance to answer pulling you down even harder bringing him completely to the hilt of you.

“Fuck - Steve!” Shocked by how good he’s making you feel, the dynamic shifts when he feels your walls start to suck him deep enough to know you’re close.

“Say it again baby, tell everyone who’s making you feel this good.” The confidence dripping from his words has you throwing your head back, bottom lip sucked between your teeth.

The pad of his thumb hits your bundle of nerves applying enough pressure to have your legs shaking around his hips, a mumbling incoherent mess on top of him he wishes he could record this.

“Ignoring me for so long, such a bad girl. Could have been worshiping this pussy like it deserves. Such a perfect fucking cunt.” Jaw slack he watches you fall apart under half lidded eyes, completely consumed by the feeling of you.

“Steve - shit - right there, I’m so fucking close.” The whine in your voice is unrecognizable when his thumb starts sliding over your clit in quick figure eights, the sounds of skin slapping together as your slick walls suck him in fill the small confines of his room.

“Cum all over this cock baby, come on. Fall apart I wanna - fuck - feel it.” The encouragement of his words coupled with the snap of his hips is enough to send you flying off the edge, eyes squeezing shut your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Velvet walls sucking him in as your body shakes on top of him.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it.” Grunting you feel him twitch inside you before painting your insides in a way that feels like he’s marking you as his.

Too busy reeling from the aftershock of your orgasm to worry about how he was going to follow you around like a lost puppy after this, you slump down against his chest. The only sounds in the room are your panted breaths and the Ramones leaking from the small speaker of his TV.

Finger tips tracing down the dip of your spine, he gives your ass an appreciative squeeze, noticing the way you’re too spent to talk he can’t help himself never seeing you like this.

“Same time next week?”

Fighting the smile that’s threatening to tug up your cheeks, you mumble your response against his sweat covered chest.

“Don’t push your luck Steve.”

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Ficlet: Diavolo x GN MC. Waking Up.

Diavolo woke to the soft whisper of candlelight and the gentle rustling of silk as it shifted beneath him. The world around him was a blur of muted colors, the weight of his body still heavy with the remnants of pain. It was as if he had been submerged in darkness for days, lost in the clutches of an illness that had drained him of his usual vitality. But now, in the dim quiet of his room, something pulled him back—something warm, steady, and familiar.

His eyelids fluttered open, the world slowly coming into focus, and there you were.

Sitting at his bedside, your hand cradled his own, your fingers gently entwined with his as though you had been holding him together while he drifted in and out of fevered dreams. The soft glow of the room wrapped around you like a halo, painting your skin in golden hues. In the stillness of the moment, you looked almost otherworldly, like a figure born of the dawn, waiting to guide him out of the shadows.

“Y-you’re here,” Diavolo murmured, his voice raw from days of silence, but there was something deeper in his tone—relief, quiet and vulnerable. His eyes, though still clouded with exhaustion, were fixed on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to the waking world.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice as tender as the touch of a breeze through autumn leaves. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

Diavolo’s heart clenched at your words, the simple truth of them cutting through the lingering ache in his body. For days—he couldn’t quite remember how many—he had been locked in a battle against his own weakness, his fevered mind plagued by the fear that he would succumb, that he would lose himself to the sickness without ever seeing you again. But now, with you by his side, the fear dissolved like mist at sunrise.

“I thought…” he began, his words faltering, heavy with the unspoken. His hand squeezed yours, as if to reassure himself that you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he’d fall back into.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured, leaning closer, your face inches from his. Your eyes held his with such tenderness it made his breath catch. “Just rest. You’ve been through enough.”

He wanted to protest, to tell you everything he had been feeling—the frustration, the pain, the overwhelming helplessness that had gnawed at him in the depths of his illness. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he allowed himself to be still, to simply feel your presence beside him, solid and unwavering.

Your hand, still clasping his, was an anchor in the storm of his thoughts, grounding him in this moment of fragile peace. The scent of you—soft, warm, like the earth after rain—mingled with the faint fragrance of healing herbs that lingered in the air. It soothed him, calming the tumult in his chest. As you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, Diavolo’s eyes fluttered shut. The touch of your lips was like a balm, chasing away the last vestiges of fever and pain, filling the space between you with something sweeter, something deeper than words.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

Your hand tightened around his, and when he opened his eyes again, you were gazing at him with a quiet fierceness, a promise written in every line of your expression. “You’ll never lose me,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Diavolo exhaled, the tension in his body finally giving way to a warmth that spread through him, slow and soothing, like the first rays of sunlight after a long, bitter night. He let himself sink into the comfort of the moment, his heart settling into a quieter, softer rhythm.

With you here, beside him, the world seemed to right itself, the pain receding like the tide, leaving behind only the quiet lapping of your presence against his soul. And as your fingers traced gentle patterns along his wrist, Diavolo found himself drifting once more—but this time, it wasn’t into darkness. It was into the safety of your care, into the soft promise of your love, which had pulled him back from the edge.

He sighed, a quiet breath of surrender, and closed his eyes again, his hand still held in yours.

“I’ll rest now,” he murmured, his voice softer, lighter than it had been in days. “As long as you’re with me.”

And with that, Diavolo let the warmth of your touch carry him into the quiet peace of sleep, knowing that when he awoke again, you would still be there, a constant in the turning of the seasons, a light in the heart of his autumn.

[ricegobbler]

TFP CONS X FEM!CON READER HCS PT.2!

ok so this is part 2. Uhm. I should’ve done this sooner but I’ve been busy😢 good news is im opening requests soon! Ok anyways enjoyyy! (Prob gon make a pt.3)

Oh and btw I’m like having a tiny break rn so I made this out of boredom. So everytime I post smth is mostly bc of boredom😢

Yall might be like “why are you making posts even if your requests r closed?” Like i said, im bored and every post i post is made when i have a break. My breaks dont rlly last long so yeah. And doing requests with only like and hour break or smth isn’t enough time in my opinion, srry. (Hope that made sense..)

(Breakdown, Soundwave, Shockwave)

REQUESTS STILL CLOSED‼️‼️‼️

Warnings‼️: mentions of figthing(s)

—————————————-

Breakdown:

-One of our favorite strong boys☺️

-honestly, just like knockout, he would be interested in meeting you but since he’s in the medbay he’s gonna have to hear about you from rumors or Starscream.

-The first time he saw you was at a meeting, you didn’t interact at all, but he atleast saw you and thought you were beautiful.

-I honestly could see this man day dreaming abt u in the med bay like:

Knockout organizing his supplies in the Medbay, “Breakdown, why are you so silent all of a sudden?-“ turns around to see Breakdown day dreaming. “Oh primus..” Knockout mumbled..

Random silence in the Medbay.

“Y/n is so pretty..” Breakdown suddenly said, leaving Knockout just face planting himself.

-Then the day finally came, the day he finally had a chance to speak to you.

-you were coming into the Medbay, wounded from a fight against the Autobots. As you came in you met optics with Breakdown, then Knockout.

-After Knockout fixed you up, Breakdown quickly started a conversation with you.

“Hello,” Breakdown started, your optics widen a bit at the sudden voice but you turn around and see the blue mech look at you sweetly, “hello?…you’re Breakdown, right?..” you ask a little awkwardly.

-After the two of you introduced yourselves, the two of you were quickly close.

-Everyday you’d visit the Medbay when they’re slow and no injured vehicons or others, talking to Breakdown. Knockout would sometimes smirk at Breakdown as he’d talk to you, you didn’t find that out until after you became mates with Breakdown. (I think they’re called conjuxes?? I forgot, ima use mates for now-)

-Speaking of mates, the day finally came when Breakdown confessed to you. He confessed to you a little nervously, I could see him stuttering a bit and rubbing the back of his neck canes with a servo, or fidgeting with his fingers instead. You have got to accept his love bc what he said to you was so adorable 😢

-he’d definitely call you either “love” or just “my spark.” PDA?? Yes, he wants to let others know your his. How he kisses? Pretty passionate. He’d also become protective of you, and he’d BEG you to come to the Medbay since he’s mostly in there all day.

Soundwave:

-MY NUMBER ONE FAV WAVE😍😍

-he’s soo..WHXBDHRIEJNX

-anyways.

-when you first arrived he didn’t care or say anything, he literally can’t say anything at all tho so🤷🏻‍♀️ bros a mute💀

-I feel like he’d show you around the Nemesis kinda like how Starscream would. Or, he would go over important things you needed to know by playing a recording of Megatron talking abt that kind of stuff.

-When the day you fought the Autobots for the first time since you joined them he was in awe. A fem like you having strength like that? Ofc he knows he’s stronger tho so.

-The next time you’d see him after your battle he would silently just stand infront of you.

Soundwave standing infront of you, looking down/up at you. “Uhm..Soundwave?..why have you blocked my way..” you ask, he then plays a recording going like, “Y/N-strong-very-strong-it-is-impressive.”

Your optics widened but you just smiled at him, “oh thank you, Soundwave..” he then placed a smiley face on his visor and walked away.

-Everytime there would be a meeting you’d see him plaster a smile on his visor and you’d smile back. He’s too silly.

-I feel like you’d fall first. Why? Idk. He’s too silly to resist. I mean, am I wrong tho???

-When he’d fall for you he’d either confess to you by using a recording, or show you smth he typed on his visor. (Like a poem ykyk)

-he wouldn’t call you any names. Bc. Yk. But he would let you watch some things on his visor when not busy. You found the show, “my little pony.” How? Just know that Megatron may or may not have watched it once and you saw.

-Since Soundwave doesn’t rlly have a mouth you just kiss him on the visor and he’d place a smiley face, holding you around the waist. PDA?? Ehhh…yes. Just maybe not infront of Megatron.

Shockwave:

-illogical my ass once eye mf.

-jk I love this mad scientist <33

-he did not gaf abt ur arrival. At. All. Like he’s busy tryna make some shit in his lab 😢

-but, the first time he ever saw you was when you explored the Nemesis alone and entered his lab.

“What is the purpose of your arrival..” Shockwave asked, “nothing. Just..lookin around..” you say back

-he wanted you OUT. Like go away bitch🙄

-but you didn’t, so you just stayed and started chatting with him as he did work. Sometimes when Shockwave either needed smth yours grab it for him.

-or, when he makes a mistake (which will probably never happen bc he’s a smart ass) you’d correct him. You’d then start talkin abt science things which perks his interest with you. He hates your humor tho.

“Would you like to hear something humorous?” You ask, “no. Jokes are illogical.” He responded, continuing his work.

-rude.

-honestly it’d take a whileeeee for yall to click. He’d start falling for you eventually tho. His confession wasn’t anything sweet, it was just some straight up confession.

-one day in the lab you wanted to help Shockwave out, and once it got all quiet between yall he literally just blurted, “I’ve grown some feelings for you.” Smth like that.

-of course you felt the same. You had to. He has big boobs😍

-I feel like he’d call you “little one” or “my spark” how he kisses?? Blud don’t got a mouth. You’d kiss his helm tho softly, and PDA?? Only in his lab, he’s kinda serious, but he loves you dearly and would protect you. He’d also make you things himself like gifts! <33

————————————-

Ok this one’s kinda bad tbh. I’m sorry☹️ I’ll do a pt.3 as soon as I can! Sorry for how late this is too btw!!

[the1975attheirverybest]

Lovers Quarrel

A/N: day 5 of Valentine’s Week. warnings: none. ***

“do you really think I’ve forgotten? About YOU?” Matty yelled as he followed her around the house, but Jo wasn’t wasting any more of her time. She gathered her belongings from the kitchen counter top, the living room, grabbing her purse from the hanger by the door. “No, Jo-please. Please don’t do this.” Matty shook his head, the wine in the half-empty bottle sloshed around in it. “Don’t leave. If- if you walk out of here right now….you’ll be giving up on us. We’ll be over!”

“don’t you see, Matty? We’ve been over for a very long time…” she twisted the doorknob in her hand. in a last ditch effort to stop her, matty fell to his knees, the wine bottle smashing against the cold tile, wine splattered everywhere. He crawled to her, attempting to grab a hold of her leg, but she slip right through his fingers. Walking out on him.

“Jo! No! Please! Come back! I’ll be better this time- I’ll do anything!I promise! Jo! Jo! No!!!”

his pleas echoed through the empty house without anyone to answer. Matty suddenly felt a heavy dampness on his dress shirt, he looked down, clutching the fabric. It was drenched in red. His frown deepened when the shirt released a red liquid into his fists with a squishy sound. “What the fu-“

Matty ‘s body jolted awake. He sat up as his sleep-laced eyes opened, looking around him in the dimly lit room, shrouded in shadows except for the small patch of light projected onto him by the muted tv. Oh thank fuck. It was only a nightmare.

“fuck!” Matty whispered under his breath when he noticed that he’d fallen asleep, on the couch, with a glass of red wine in his hand, and had let it tip and spill all over him in his sleep. “Fuckin hell.” His shirt was soaked. he peeled the drenched fabric off his body, tossing it to the floor. His chest still felt cold and wet where the patch of wine stained fabric had adhered to his skin. He looked around him, trying to recall the events of the evening. The place was completely quiet except for the sounds of rainfall against the window and the record player murmuring “I Want It That Way” on low volume somewhere in the distance. slowly but surely it all started coming back to him. he and Jo had had a fight. He couldn’t even remember what it was about. He only remembered that it was bad. He’d made her cry. He’d said some obscene and insensitive things. Refused to hear her side. Rolled his eyes at her when she’d tried to force him to listen. There was a lot of pacing back and forth. A lot of passionate gesticulating. He remembers pulling at his own hair so hard that he’d hurt himself. He remembers being exasperated and telling her that he couldn’t stand to be around her. It was one of those fights that started out as a specific issue but quickly unfolded into a massive argument about every disagreement that they’ve ever had in their entire relationship. Things neither one of them even realized the other was upset about. It’s like they’d been storing grievances, waiting for the right moment to unleash them. And, apparently, tonight had been the moment. *** It was well beyond midnight when Matty had dragged his heavy limbed up the stairs and walked into their bedroom. Jo had been in bed, asleep, on her side, back facing away from the door. The sight of her overwhelmed him with emotion. He felt tears flooding his eyes. He rushed over to her and climbed into bed his arms pulling her towards him. “I’m so sorry, Jo.” He whispered into her ear, his stubble scratching her face. “I love you so much.” she whined, attempting to wiggle away. “You smell like cigarettes.”

he laughed, surprised at hearing her voice. “Sorry, had a smoke.”

“and wine.”

“well, I also had a drink. You know. To go with the smoke.” He kissed her again, rubbing his stubble against her skin on purpose this time. “I thought you said you were gonna quit. For the baby.”

“go easy on me, darling, i thought I’d lost you.”

she rolled her eyes. Her hand reached behind her for his. “Don’t be dramatic, Matthew, I’ve only been in bed. Pretending to be asleep so I don’t have to deal with you.”

he chuckled into her ear, his breath tickling her. “No, no. I mean- sure yeah but also…I…had a nightmare. Thought it was real. Thought you’d left me.”

the tinge of pain in his voice had softened that last piece of her that had been guarded against him. And finally turned around to look straight into his eyes. “C’mon, Matty. You know that would never happen, yeah?”

tears threatened to spill from his eyes again, he blushed. “Wouldn’t it? I mean- I was kind of cruel and, I-“

“hey? So was I. Okay? And I’m sorry.” She kissed him. The gesture causing a singular stray tear to fall down his face. He laughed, choking back a sob.

“I honestly don’t even know what I was mad about. Probably just horny and mistranslated it into anger.”

Matty bit his lower lip. “Horny?”

“it’s the pregnancy hormones. Im confused all the time. I don’t even know how I feel I just know whatever it is….im feeling it intensely.”

“the baby isn’t even born yet and we’re already blaming our problems on it. Nice.” Matty giggled. she shoved him “fuck you, okay?” And tried to escape his arms. “Jo! Im joking, baby! I’m only joking!!” He pulled her back in. “Well, I’m still sorry, okay?”

“okay.”

they laid in bed, with her back pressed into his chest, his arms around her, caressing her emerging bump softly, in silence. Until, suddenly, Matty began to hum,

You are my fire

the one desire

believe when I say

I want it that way

Jo let out a sleepy groan. “I hate that song. It makes no sense.”

Matty laughed. “I know. Isn’t it the best?”

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Pervade

Posession sequel. Be warned, it's dark, there are horror elements, jealousy, smut. Dark Gale x F!Tav. Part 3 of who knows how many? :)

'And I don't mind, if you say this love is the last time, so now I'll ask do you like that? Do you like that?' - Breaking Benjamin, The Diary of Jane

Taglist:

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries @mumms-the-word

Gale was before her, firelit. Camp was only a short distance away, Tav thought. If something goes wrong. Gazing down at her with brown eyes soft and deep, he stroked her face with freezing knuckles, leaned in to claim her mouth. The chill of death shot through her, an icy burn that made every breath ache like she’d been lacerated from the inside. She whimpered and he held her tighter, breaking the kiss only to murmur against her lips.

In a blink their surroundings changed. Instead of the shadow cursed lands and the fire encircling them they were in a bright and airy study; books were strewn across the desk, a grand piano tinkled gently in the corner all by itself, statuary stood sentinel among the art and alchemy supplies. It was beautiful and utterly, utterly wrong. She was on her feet, at least. Warmth was coming back to her limbs; they’d been separated. Something about him is very wrong, she thought. The curtained doors were closed but she tried them anyway, opening them up onto a breathtaking view of the sea of swords. Here, it was a balmy evening, the ocean and sky both washed gold. Tav was high up and able to see a number of landmarks. Waterdeep. The evening sun kissed her skin. She longed to bask in it, but the plunging fist of cold in her chest made her gasp, tendrils of darkness pouring from her.

‘Welcome home,’ purred Gale into her ear, his arms sliding around her waist, mouth pressed to the nape of her neck. ‘Do you like it?’

‘We have to go back.’

‘Nonsense. Why?’

‘The curse, Gale. And our friends. We must.’ Tav turned in his arms. ‘I know you’re better than this.’

‘You’ll forgive me if I’m not eager to return you to Halsin,’ his face seemed to shut down, eyes going flat black. ‘The scent of him’s still all over you.’

‘Ah, so that’s it. You’re jealous.’

‘We’ve been over this, my love. Jealousy is so petty. My feelings for you are much stronger than that.’

‘We’re not together, Gale. We never were.’

‘Yet,’ he said it with such certainty. ‘You promised.’

‘We’ll go back, right?’ Her hands were on his chest. There was no thrum of life under her hands. Fear slid down into her gut.

‘If you insist.’ He sounded almost like himself. ‘Though I’m afraid those marks of yours…’ his eyes swept down her body, ‘will need a little… improvement.’

Tav felt her heart rise into her throat and nodded mutely. Gale grinned, a flash of teeth, and lifted her onto the balcony railing. ‘Gale!’ she shrieked. ‘I’m going to fall!’

‘You won’t, I’ve got you,’ he said. She watched in astonishment as he held her still with one arm, unlacing her armour with his other hand. Wrenching the ties loose he pressed hungry open kisses to her exposed skin, sending shivers of cold and heat through her, chasing one another. ‘Fuck, I want you so badly,’ he said between kisses. ‘And I want to erase Halsin’s scent from your skin with mine.’ To punctuate his point, he dragged his teeth over her breast. They left cold pain in their wake.

‘Shit,’ she hissed. ‘You’re so cold-’

‘And you’re so warm. Gods…’ he ran the flat of his tongue from navel to throat, grinning into her pulse as she shivered. Gooseprickles raised on her skin with barely a touch, the faintest breath of frost licking like flame from her body. If her eyes were open, she might have noticed. Still balancing her on the ledge, he prised her thighs apart slowly, his fingers icy on the tender flesh. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he whispered.

‘I can’t help it,’ she blurted suddenly. ‘I don’t understand why you don’t have a-’

‘In due time,’ he said cajolingly. ‘Enjoy yourself, hmm?’ He kissed at her inner thighs and she yelped, jolting in his arms. ‘Tsk tsk. Careful.’ His tongue swirled over the bites Halsin had left behind. They were bruises, lighter than she’d expected from such a feral man. ‘Look at me,’ he said huskily. Tav opened her eyes to meet his gaze and he bit down slowly. She tried squirming and he snarled, holding her tightly against his mouth. She whimpered as he drew out pain from the bruise beneath.

‘Stop,’ she said. He did immediately, raising his head to press featherlight kisses to her lips. ‘That’s enough. Be soft with me.’

He considered her silently. ‘Hm. Very well.’ Gale moved back between her legs much gentler than before. He seemed restrained, delighting in the shudders and moans he drew from her with his tongue and even the slow, careful drag of teeth. When he felt her thighs tense and her hands in his hair, he drew back.

‘Fuck,’ she breathed. ‘That’s not fair.’

‘You said gentle,’ he replied with falsely innocent eyes. They were wide as he gazed up at her, the effect ruined by the smirk playing around his mouth.

‘More,’ she said.

‘No. I’m rather enjoying this.’ He brought her to the edge again, pace languid. He ignored when she pulled at his hair, growling in frustration.

‘Gale!’

‘Beg and plead all you want,’ he said with nonchalant wickedness. ‘You’ll not change my mind. You come when I decide and not before.’

‘But-’ her teeth were beginning to chatter. ‘I- c-c-can’t t-take-’

‘You’re right.’ He drew away entirely. ‘You should warm yourself by the fire.’ He gathered her into his arms and moved back inside. The fireplace was huge and enchanted, its flames a cold purple though the flames were hot.

‘S-stop teasing me,’ she whined.

‘Not long ago you were demanding I take you back to the cold and the dark. Are you saying you’d rather stay here tonight?’

Yes. No. I don’t know. This is wrong… ‘We-’

‘Do you want me or not? Answer me.’

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Then we have time.’ He kissed her deeply and she tasted her own arousal on his tongue. He brought her to his bed, all purple and silver silk. It almost felt warm against her cold skin. He continued his ministrations, causing her to crumple the sheets under her hands, unable to quiet the sounds from her lips. He seemed to have all the patience in the world and she had only the sky’s darkening from gold to pink to deep indigo to black to keep track of time. Eventually though he seemed to decide she’d had enough torture. He did not pull away this time, groaning as she came. Looming over her, he tilted his head questioningly.

In for gold, in for a copper, she thought. She was feeling drowsy; all her heat had been sapped from her. Perhaps this is what she’d sensed she’d lose, before? ‘Mhm,’ she said.

‘Words, my love.’

‘Yes.’

‘Much as I enjoy how much fight you have in you,’ he said, treating her to a gentle smile, ‘I do enjoy you like this as well. So… pliant.’ Slowly, carefully, he slid inside her. Pressing his full weight into her, he murmured into her ear. ‘Have I erased the memory of him yet?’

She opened her mouth to reply and darkness rose from it to slip between his lips. He shuddered, apparently in ecstasy. ‘What was that?’

‘Don’t concern yourself with it,’ he snapped his hips forward harshly, grinning as she yelped. ‘I asked you if I’d erased him yet.’

Eyes wide, she shook her head. We should go back. It’s been hours.

‘Can’t have that.’ He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth, dragged his fingers through her hair. ‘Not at all.’ He drew it out as before, controlled and gentle until he was nearing his own release. Then he held her close with grasping fingers and sharp teeth, drawing out her screams and luxuriating in the way she clawed desperately at his skin, nails pressing into the muscle of his shoulders, legs locked around him. When he finally came, Gale moaned into the hollow of her throat. His seed spilled in a freezing torrent; shards of pain and then numbness. He took the whimpers she offered, swallowed them in his own mouth, remained inside her as he eyes half closed. ‘Sleep,’ he ordered. ‘I won’t leave your side.’ Was it a threat? Or a promise?

The pull of dreaming was too strong. Melting into unconsciousness, Tav was oblivious to anything her friends might be going through, miles away in the cursed dark.

[slut4agoodcause]

Easy Moments - Carmen Berzatto x reader

Warnings: Smoking, Swearing, The most gorgeous man I’ve ever met

A/n : oh my god, oh my god second season June 22. Also sorry that this is at least a two parter I’m exhausted

<3 <3 <3

It had been a long night or as both Richie and chef would say, you guys got your shit rocked. Despite how prepared you guys had been it was no match for how out of sync everyone had been and how understocked you all were. Richie was throwing a fit and fucking around in the kitchen; you were this close to cutting him end to end with a paring knife the entire night. Lucky it was over, and even if you had to deal with it tomorrow you could leave it all behind for tomorrow. Really fucking early tomorrow, but tomorrow nonetheless. You shoved the apron in your locker and collected the rest of your things. You could feel the grease and sweat sticking to every inch of you. The fans only solidified the sweat making the layer of sweat thicker and feel even more suffocating.

“Chef.”

Fuck god dammit what now- you mentally whined praying that maybe you had left a pen behind or some dumb miscellaneous nonsense. Something that still let you go home within the next hour.

“Yes, Chef?” You put your attention towards him, the fluorescents allowed you to get a good look at his features. The way his jaw curved and the bump of his nose, your eyes lingering on the notch in his cheek from what you assumed was some accident that he never spoke of.

"Are you going home?" His voice seemed thick but still scratchy, eyes puffy most likely from exhaustion.

"Yeah - I mean yes, chef. As long as you don't need me here?"

He paused, his lips tugging into a sort of tired attempt to smile before answering, "No chef, thank you, have a good night."

You nodded before collecting your stuff from your locker and stepping out into the cold, you stood outside the shop shuffling your feet a bit before digging out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You heard the hiss of the flames as the paper burned, taking a deep breath you let the smoke sit in your lungs for a moment. Chicago was cold, all the time, constantly. Which usually you hated, it made you feel like you were drowning somewhere but tonight you didn't mind, it felt good to be in this kind of cold.

"Can I have a light?"

You let your head lull over to see Carmen once again, somehow trapped in the halo of light from the city.

You flicked the lighter just under his cigarette, watching as the flame illuminated his lips and the short timid stubble that framed his face.

Every inch of you was sore and beyond exhausted but something about how easy this moment felt kept you here. Honestly, that's why you stayed at The Beef, because despite the snappy annoying, and quite horribly frustrating moments there were enough easy ones to keep you steady.

Neither of you spoke, the air felt heavy but not the crushing heavy just the kind that kept you both mute. Your phone buzzed and you scanned the pile of notifications to see the most recent message :

Hey I can’t pick you up tonight, flight was delayed. I'll see you tomorrow, sorry.

“Motherfucker.”

Carmy turned towards you ever so slightly, brows raised, lips toying with the butt of the cigarette, “something wrong?”

You shook your head, “no it’s nothing, my ride canceled on me.”

“Oh.” His head leaned against the glass window, “How do you plan on getting home then?”

You sighed out the last nicotine-soaked breath before stunning out the cigarette with your toe, and frantically searching for train routes that ran nearest to your apartment.

“The trains still run at this hour right chef?”

He glanced over at you at the sound of ‘chef’, “some do but I wouldn’t recommend it, late trains are full of drunks and creeps.”

You continued a string of curses as you checked the time , it was 2:22 and you’d have to be back by 5 anyways, it didn’t matter if you got home right this instant there was no way in hell you were gonna get close to enough sleep.

You stood there slightly paralyzed by both exhaustion and frustration, honestly if you had known this is what you were signing up for in culinary school you might never applied.

“Chef?”

Carmen had just finished his cigarette, smushing what was left into the ground. He looked up at you, in an almost slow and methodical way, “yes chef?”

“Could I sleep here, in The Beef tonight? Not even in your office just like in one of the booths or something?”

His eyebrows creased as he thought, eyes still all-encompassingly focused on you. “How far away is your apartment?”

Your brain practically melted at his words, your mind already thinking of every possible outcome to a thousand possible ways you could go about answering his question. You didn't want to make a big deal of it but you had always been skittish of people being at your place and your boss was no exception.

“About twenty minutes away chef, why?”

He thought for a second before speaking, “ theres a train that should run somewhere by your place, and I would prefer just making sure you get home safely instead of letting you sleep in one of those grimey booths.”

“You really don't have to, I think I have some mace in my bag, I can handle some drunk creeps.”

“Mace would fill the whole train up if you were to spray even the smallest amount which would rock everyone’s shit.”

You toyed with your lips a bit while you thought, it would only be twenty minutes, and then you would see each other tomorrow and it would be normal. Carmen didn't seem like the kinda guy to intrude or invite himself in. It would be okay if he watched over you, just for tonight.