#it's 2am i just felt like drawing it

[toodrunktofindaurl]

fan letter

[cal4hysteria]

me looking at the swedish emo twink after i hit him with my car

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

-

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,�� she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

[emberglowfox]

“Probably ought to bring you up to speed on something right now. In order to escape, we're going to have to go through HER chamber."

Redraw of an original from September of 2017– someone liked it and made me think about it for the first time in a while. My Portal dragon au was a fun time. I miss just being mindlessly self-indulgent like that, haha.

This is a bit of a weird redraw. Usually when I do redraws, I try to match the style more, so the technical improvement is clearer. But with this one, I was thinking more about, like… if I had the skill then that I do now, what would I have made?

Growing up, I was really envious of looser styles that could rely more on color and light than lines. Lineart and cell shading is still my bread and butter, clearly, and I’ve always enjoyed it. But when I was younger, it sometimes felt like a cage. The old drawing, with its blurry but strong colored lighting, is an obvious attempt to get away from that.

So, I paid less attention to the specifics of the original composition and tried more to capture atmosphere. I love the lighting and aesthetic of Portal 2, it’s still incredibly influential on me, so I wanted to see how much closer I could get now. I’m not all the way there— especially sketching this at 2am with no references— and there’s a lot of things I still want to improve. But I’d like to think past me would have been really, really excited about what I can do now.

[byllsbytch]

Cumming home to you <3

Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Ok, it’s pretty shitty, I’ve written this in 30mins, n im too lazy to write smut. (Besides I’m shit at it on a good day.)

here ya go cuties.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Nicholas Alexander Chavez comes home late to his gf after a long day of filming, after many attempts of trying to get freaky they decide - fuck, we’re both too tired.

Warnings: Girl none?

I’d sat on the couch watching a cooking show, it was the most entertaining channel on at the time and seeing as the night was drawing to a close, I needed something easy to watch. It was my first week in our new apartment and Nick certainly was working his ass off for it. I numerously checked the time on the microwave in the kitchen and watched as the minutes passed.

I pulled the blanket up higher to my chin, slowly fluttering my eyes trying to keep them open. A tough inner battle. Being alone in the house it wasn’t hard to keep them open, when alone I’m always restless, however I was overtired. A wave of sleepiness hit me harder causing me to slump to the side of the couch. The words from the television became unintelligible and I began to drift away.

It felt like it had been two minutes before I woke to see Nicholas had finally gotten home and stood over me, pecking my cheek and playing with my hair.

“Come on princess off to bed.” He whispered. I struggled to open my eyes and glanced at the time again.

“2am! Nicholas! Are you ok baby?”

He smiled at my concern.

“I’m fine babe, just let me get you to bed.”

I mumbled before nick swooped me up in his arms and carried me to bed. I stretched and sprawled out in the centre of the bed before groaning in satisfaction.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so tired.”

“You’re fine my darling girl. I’ll just go for a shower and I’ll be right back. I’m sorry for coming home late and waking you.”

He walked into the bathroom the next room over and turned the water on.

-

The steam began to snake its way into the bedroom. After a few minutes I managed to pull my dead weight up off the bed and dragged my body to the bathroom doorway staring at Nick’s physique behind the shower glass.

I slowly began to pull off my shirt and kick off my pants. I heard the water turn off and Nicholas got out drying himself then wrapping the towel around his waist. He finally noticed me standing in the doorway in my old, ratty underwear. He bit his lip before coming close to me.

“What are you doing babe? You ok?”

I smirked at him, placing my hand onto his abdomen. He looked down to my hand and smiled closing the gap even more.

“I was going to get into the shower.”

“Oh damn it!” He joked, “Come on baby, let’s just go to bed it’s late.” He lent over and kissed me on the forehead.

I looked up at him and gave him puppy eyes a slight frown.

He looked away. “Oh come on! I feel bad that I woke you up.”

I placed my hand on his cheek before pulling him into a kiss.

He leant in with no hesitation and tangled his fingers into my hair. We both closed our eyes in each other’s embrace as Nicholas began to make his way from my lips down my neck. I took my hands behind my back before undoing my bra. He kept all his attention to my collar bone leaving sloppy kisses. He pulled away sensing the warmth from my breast and stepped back to glance at them. My forearms rested in his, he stared in complete adoration and love.

“You’re so gorgeous and perfect.”

He placed his hands onto my chest before going back into the kiss. I moved my hands down to his towel and gently tugged, teasing him.

“Mhmm” He hummed, nodding in the kiss.

I pulled it off before he lifted me up and carried me back to the bed.

He placed me down delicately before crawling over me.

He was out of breath and visibly excited.

“How was work handsome?” I asked keeping my hand on his face his stocky frame above me.

He stopped puzzled, already panting from the little action.

“Yeah it was alright baby. Long and boring but it’s ok because we’re about to wrap up filming soon. Tell you what got me through it, you. I couldn’t help but think about you all day. I’m so happy it’s over so we can be in this moment right now.”

I felt a grin grow wider across my face.

“Especially the snap that you sent earlier, that REALLY helped me wind down.” He chuckled, winking.

My eyes widened as I gasped, slapping him playfully on the chest, “Nick! Oh my god!” I couldn’t help but laugh and he soon joined in with me placing his forehead against mine.

“You know what this is nice. How about we just do this.”

“Oh thank god!” I said, “I’m so fucking knackered.”

I rolled onto my side and felt Nick press himself up against me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his head into the crook of my neck.

He smirked at my reaction. “Oh ok! You came onto me remember!”

I smiled at him, “Well it’s hard not to.”

“You wanna know what’s hard?”

I turned my head back to look at him grinning before rolling my eyes.

We had some more pillow talk while he continued to spoon me.

“We’re definitely on in the morning, you know that?”

“Oh yes!” He triumphantly pumped his fist.

[withleeknow]

whiskers.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; reader has whisker dimples bc this is self-indulgent as hell, written in one sitting and v unedited lol it is once again 2am and i am half asleep. the fake cut mimo has on his cheek in the pics is kind of exactly where my whiskers are lmfao word count: 0.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

"whiskers," minho says, pulling your gaze away from the laptop in front of you.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, though you do put the device to the side to give minho your undivided attention. he's looking at you expectantly but patiently, like he's just asking you to give him a little love.

this isn't something that you've always liked about yourself, your whisker dimples as the internet has so lovingly deemed them these days. they would come out when you smile, or when your face twists into an unpleasant scowl. as a kid, people often found it odd how you had dimples so high up in your cheeks when others had them around their smile lines. you always felt a little different, a little weird whenever someone pointed this out even if it was only in harmless fun.

when minho first became aware of it, he was absolutely fascinated. he'd made you laugh so hard that you couldn't contain the bright grin that spread across your face as complete and utter joy took over you. you were clutching his arm, giggling at the story he was telling you when the dimples showed themselves, the cute indentations settling on top of your cheeks as if they were the physical manifestation of the happiness you felt inside.

you remember what minho did. he had cupped your face gently in his hands, then traced the soft lines with his fingers as he marveled at you. "you look like a cat," he had said, and you didn't really know what to make of it. it was so early in your relationship that you weren't sure if he was complimenting you or making fun of you like the others had.

but then the stars in his eyes twinkled a little brighter, the delighted quirk of his lips expressing his wonder better than words could. he had kissed you right there, softer and sweeter than he ever did in the short time that you had known each other back then, and you quickly learned that oh, maybe this little detail about yourself that you were embarrassed of your whole life was a good thing after all.

you still don't know the reason minho likes them so much. to you, they've always been something to ignore as best as you can, something to not draw attention to because you don't want people to highlight that maybe you're a little different from everybody else.

even as you sit here, years later with the love of your life who's got a very particular request for you, you're still not entirely sure why he's obsessed with your odd dimples enough to want to see them almost every day. it's a mystery to you and yet, it makes you feel all warm and bubbly inside whenever he sends this simple demand your way.

you adhere to his request nonetheless. when the dimples appear, you watch as a smile blooms on his face, growing bigger and bigger until it makes his eyes crinkle. like an instant boost of serotonin, you think.

minho traces them with gentle fingers, gazing at you in awe as if it's the first time he's seeing you like this. when he leans closer, you can't help but meet him halfway until his lips are tentatively brushing your cheeks. you can't help your own smile either, when it deepens and only accentuates the small moon-shaped dents which he kisses. five times on each side, and then he's peppering kisses all over your face while you laugh and accept the sudden burst of love.

sometimes he calls them whiskers, sometimes he calls them moons.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 31.05.2024]

[jokingmisfit]

Birthday Presents You're the Gift

Poly Mikaelsons x Fem!Reader

Warnings- sub reader(aka reader is a bottom), putting icing where it isn't supposed to go, biting, drinking readers blood (implied), p in v, unprotected sex, slight choking, blindfolds, restraints, edible underwear, cunnilingus, mommy kink, collars(not pet play), leash(still not pet play), doggy style, possessiveness, sex toys, begging, cumming inside, over stimulation (implied), (potion) aphrodisiac, hair pulling, strap-on, squirting (mentioned), reader is a bit of a pillow princess ngl

Notes- It's all in past tense for some reason idk I was tired and wrote half at work the other half instead of sleeping at 2am. Also, technically it's written as the reader is with all of them.

Kol (Icing)

You'd been surprised yourself with how easy things went. You had to sneak away from his party early and set things up, hide the icing, and make sure it was all done in time for him to walk in.

It went perfectly. You covered your chest in icing and put sprite on top of that. You took a smaller tube of icing and placed X's on his favorite places to bite you. Lastly, you partially coated your privates in icing.

You propped yourself up at the edge of the bed and waited. Thankfully you planned just right because only a few minutes passed when he opened the door.

Of course the door wasn't open for long as he slammed it shut. Kol's eyes raked over you. A shine lit in his eyes and if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to actually eat you.

"What a lovely surprise..." He had whispered.

"All for you." You replied easily.

Kol squeezed his hands into fists and released a few times before he stalked towards you. Honestly the man looked wild like he had no idea where to start, so he started with the little "x" on your thigh. He licked the icing clean and bit down to draw blood to replace it.

You warned him not to lose his appetite so soon and he sunk his teeth deeper. Slowly he moved to your pussy, where he lapped at the icing before diving his tongue into your hole. Kol are you out until there was no icing left.

He moved up and hit every "x" etched on your skin and leaving his own marks behind. He decided he wanted more, so he shoved his cock into you while sucked on your chest and your neck. Leaving a different kind of sticky mess between your legs and on your thighs.

At the end of the night he tells you how jealous his siblings will be when he tells them the present their mate gave him.

Elijah (Ties)

You were a bit worried. You had to ask Rebecca for help with your preparation, and you prayed she wouldn't spoil your surprise. The two of you snuck off just at the end of the party and made quick progress.

With a kiss on your cheek Rebecca left you there for her brother to find. Your hands were tied to the railing with one of Elijah's ties and you were blindfolded by another one. Around your neck was a brand new tie that you were hoping he'd enjoy as much as the rest of his surprise.

You could hear the door open, and if you hadn't heard the low laugh you would've been concerned for who might've entered.

Elijah's hand was soft against your breast . He traced the shape of your body easily. He lightly picked up the base of the tie off your chest. He felt the fabric between his fingers.

"What a delicious surprise you've given me." He said quietly.

You had felt the tie suddenly tighten around your neck making it harder to breathe. Your soft moans encouraged him, and he engulfed your mouth with his. He littered your neck with bites and kisses which trailed onto your breasts.

Elijah removed his clothes and hovered above you. He took little care in preparing you as he slid his cock into you. He held the tie tightly pulling it like it would move you closer to him. Most of the night your legs are placed forcefully on his shoulders as he plows you. He makes you cum several times and misses not one chance to fill you up with his seed.

By the end of the night he undoes all the ties and holds you softly. He doesn't say it but you can tell he very much enjoyed his present.

Rebekah (Lingerie)

The plan was simple enough. You didn't need extra preparation, all you needed was to put it on. You knew she'd love it.

You sat delicately in the light pink candy lingerie. The scent of strawberries comforted your nerves, yet made you that much more excited.

Rebekah entered the room already smiling. She licks her lips before sitting on her knees in front of you.

"Such a lovely gift for your mommy..." She said looking you over.

She leaned up and bit the strap of the barely strong enough candy. Your tits spilled out and the other strap broke instantly. Rebekah's smile grew and she lowered her head between them to bite off the lingerie's body strap.

Her hands trailed your thighs as she went around your chest eating the candy and nipping at your skin. She moved her head down and ate the candy wrapped around your tummy before she bit the panties.

Rebekah used her teeth to tear away the candy. Her nails scratched the skin on your thighs. She ate you out just like she ate the candy. When you moved your hands to her hair she immediately pinned them beside you with an additional threat to tie you up.

You spent most of the night like this with her mouth glued to your cunt. She teased you when you begged her to stop. Instead finally using her strap to fuck you "more properly".

She makes sure not a piece of lingerie is left and any stickiness is taken off with her tongue.

The night ends with your lips pressed to her chest. A perfect way to tell you Rebekah had loved your gift.

Klaus (Collar)

A part of you was nervous. You had known he brought it up to you when he was really worked up, but you had no idea if Klaus would really like it.

Your body bare aside from the collar sat delicately on your neck. The words "Property of Niklaus" scrawled nicely on it. A chain leash attached and you played with the other end while you waited for the hybrid to step through the door.

When he does enter his back was towards you as he ensures no one sees the inside of his room. He scolds you for giving yourself away with your scent, but his words die when he finally sees you.

"Now this is a very pleasant surprise." His smile at you was predatory.

Your heartbeat grew faster as you looked away and offered him the leash. He took it happily and watched with excitement as you looked up with wide eyes. Klaus's smile grew when he caught glimpse of the tag.

He pulled the leash tightly and you end up dragged into his arms. His fingers investigate the tag as he reads it. A low growl escapes him.

You found yourself face down and ass up as he fucks into you from above. His thrusts were hard and quick. He pulled on the leash from behind giving you a delightful lightheaded feeling.

He made you beg for release, repeating how he owned you over and over again. The word "mine" might have as well been embedded in your skin like his fangs were in your shoulder.

You knew when the night ended he had enjoyed your surprise as he held onto the leash for the rest of the night even when you were wrapped in his arms.

Finn (Toys)

You were excited. You didn't really use toys and the others didn't either, but Finn seemed fascinated with the thought and you really wanted him to be satisfied with your gift.

The toys were laid out beside you. You wore a simple lingerie set that you knew he'd love. The door opened to a confused Finn.

"What is all of this?" He asked simply.

You explained everything. Simple, pick a toy or multiple and it's his tool to use.

Almost instantaneously he picked a toy and turned it on. Finn tore the panties away rather quickly, and he put the toy right up to your clit and savored the sounds you made.

He truly enjoyed the show. He tested every vibrator, dildo, and plug laid out. He even tried the breast pump to watch you as it sucked your tits. Finn enjoyed the way you begged him for a break, for anything else. He wanted more of this even if you pretended not to too.

He took what little clothing you had left and fucked you into the mattress, but even then he wasn't satisfied and he pulled out one of the vibrators again. He couldn't help but stare at you and the way your body reacted.

Finn drilled into you with the vibrator on your clit for all three rounds that he actually touched you. Had you tried you wouldn't be able to count the times you actually came that night.

In the end you knew he was happy with his gift, especially when he set the toys aside for "future use".

Freya (Aphrodisiac)

It was a good present. You had known that, because she had told you before she wanted to try. It was easy getting the potion with Kols help. You hid it from Freya well and you were so excited to give into one of her fantasies.

You left the bottle to sit in your lap as Freya entered the room. Her eyes traced over you and immediately landed on the bottle.

"Oh, this has to be my favorite present of the night." She said more to herself than you.

Freya took the bottle from your lap and poured it into her mouth. She let the liquid sit before kissing you and pushing the potion down your throat. You obeyed despite the urge for air burning your lungs.

The aphrodisiac worked quickly. It dulled some senses and increased others. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs. The wetness on your thighs and her smile on your neck. Her kisses burned and you felt you might cum from the simple actions.

Your body was on fire and you couldn't focus. She grabbed your scalp and pulled you till you were face to face with her. Freya kissed you madly as you whimpered against her mouth.

Her fingers moved down and played with your cunt. They enter you easily over and over again. She moved your head to suck on her chest and you obeyed easily.

Though you weren't sure when at some point she put on her strap and sat you in her lap. Freya thrusted up into you repeatedly. You don't squirt too often but you did that night.

You can't remember how the night ended, but you knew she enjoyed your present because you remember a kiss on your head and a whispered thank you.

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[etherial-stoleurdiscord]

𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

(Alcina X Wife!FashionDesigner!Reader)

[Reader has been neglecting their health, ignoring people, and overworking... and so Alcina decides to deal with it herself.]

~Angst/Fluff/Under eating/Self neglect/Mental health talk/Overworking~

~Little use of Y/N, bad grammar, possible misspellings, Reader is over 30 (roughly 36-38)~

So like- I'm kind of projecting on this one :') I think you'll find that some of the angst fics that I write are sometimes me projecting some of the things I go through IRL. I find that writing what I'm going through tends to help calm my nerves, however because my hands are shaking there will probably be a few more spelling mistakes then usual, sorry about that :')

Anyways, enjoy my loves and please take care of yourself <3

~ ~

Work. Work, work, work, work, work. That's all that's on your mind lately. You've barely seen Alcina or the girls for a week, unless it's dinner. You've been sitting in your own workspace, working for hours on end. You've slept a total of maybe 8 hours this entire week. An entire week, of little sleep or just sleepless nights.

You hardly eat anything when you go down to the dining room, and you don't speak to anyone. You were frustrated, stressed and overworked. Some days you felt like you would just pass out and never wake up, but you knew that would be too good for you. And whenever Alcina or the girls tried to talk to you, you'd shut the conversation down before anyone can even think of asking you to take a break.

Currently, you're sitting in the room Alcina had renovated into a workspace for you to do your work. Sitting at your desk, head resting on your arm which was resting on your desk, staring at the papers scattered across the table and adorning your wall. It was well after 2am, yet you were in a dark room, the only light source being the moonlight and candle sitting next to you. You had countless designs that you wanted to finish, but no inspiration whatsoever. Not to mention, the constant shaking in your hands every time you picked up your pencil. There were a few mannequins with partially finished dresses and suits standing around the room. Some mannequins were big, some were smaller, your size, and others were somewhere in between that.

You let out a groan of frustration, burying your face in your hands. , , It's not that fucking hard, you're being dramatic just- just think!-" You mutter to yourself, and oddly enough, an idea comes to mind. You bring one of the papers towards you and pick up a pencil. However, when you go to add to your design, your hand starts to shake violently, causing you to cross a line over your drawing.

, , Christ sake!"

You stand up, throwing the pencil across the room, watching as it cracks from the force. You were beyond pissed with how incompetant your body was acting. Your gaze snaps down to your desk, and you quite harshly grab the paper sitting infront of you. You begin to tear it to pieces, crushing the pieces to a ball before chucking it into the bin beside your desk. You began to throw things, anything. You pushed over mannequins, brushed papers across the room from your desk, kicked rolls of materials across the floor. You needed to let out all this frustration on something, but you felt so lost.

You were about to push another mannequin over before your arms were pulled back behind you. You tried to pull away, writhing against the grip of whoever had taken ahold of your arms. You had a pretty good guess of who it was, considering you could smell expensive cigarettes and burned roses. You kept fighting against the tight grip, but gave up upon realising it was probably a useless attempt. All of a sudden, all the angry frustration you felt turned to tears, filling up behind a dam wall, bound to break at any moment.

You let out a choked sob when the grip on your arms loosens. Your knees collapse beneath you, causing you to fall to the ground. The wall breaks, and tears begin to fall into your lap. Realisation sets in after a few moments, and you quickly pull yourself towards the bin besides your desk.

, , No, no no- Fuck!"

You pick out the crumbled ball of paper and unroll it, watching as the pieces fall to your lap.

, , FUCK." You yell out in frustration, as you're lifted off the ground. You close your eyes, tight, crying uncontrollably. You try to control your breathing, but of course, nothing is ever easy. You're pulled into the chest of who you now knew was Alcina, not that it was easy to see her clearly, your vision was too clouded with blurry wet tears, and you could hardly keep them open for more then half a second.

, , Hush my love, it's alright."

As much as you wanted to believe that it was alright, the terrible week you had, had your mind believing that it was the end of the world. You tried your best to keep your sobbing quiet, but it was proving difficult. You were being held bridal style to your wife's chest while she carried you out of your study and most likely back to your private chambers.

By the time you had arrived at your chambers, of which was all the way on the other side of the Castle, you had stopped crying, just soft gentle sobs every few seconds. By now you had shut your eyes, and was trying to focus on just Alcina's heart beat. It felt like an eternity before you were able to focus, there was so little happening, yet so much, and it was extremely overwhelming. It felt like you were in a deep black pit, but yet, you knew you weren't.

You didn't snap out of your thoughts until you felt yourself being placed onto the soft comfortable embrace of your bed, you didn't realise how much you had missed the feeling of it. Being engulfed by the warm blankets, it calmed you down, but not too much. What really calmed you down, was the feeling of your wifes arms wrapping around you and pulling you into her chest, of which you immediately and unapologetically buried your face into, all your anxiety and frustrations started to slowly creep back to the shadows.

You noticed that she was in her nightgown, which you probably shouldn't be surprised about considering how late it was. You then looked down at your own attire, realising that you were also wearing a nightgown. Had you really gotten that consumed with your thoughts you hadn't realised that Alcina had changed you?

, , Sleep Dragă. I'll be here when you wake up."

You wanted to protest but you were unbareably tired, and you were already laying on a bed, and Alcina showed no sign of letting you go anytime soon, so really you had no choice. You tried to fight off the sleep that was slowly dragging you down as much as you could, but gave up when Alcina held you closer.

, , I'm sorry... I love you, Alcina."

Your voice was barely a whisper, so gentle and quiet. It made Alcina smile, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

That was the last thing you felt before being carried away into a dreamless, calm sleep. The best sleep you had gotten in the past week.

Yep okay, bye, it;s 5am im done, goodnight

im not gonna try to edt any misspelingns anymore im tired, this fic might make like 0 sense at all

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!!

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

“Come on Joel! It’s not that big a deal! I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m 16!”

“No!”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m asking to get married or anything like that… Ew… even the thought makes me want to puke.”

“You’re still in school. I don’t want you to lose focus. You don’t need a job.”

“I just want to get some experience. And I wanna save up for a car.”

“I’ll buy you a car.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. What did Sarah do when you bought her one instead of letting her work for one?”

Joel sighed. He downed the rest of his coffee. Grimaced at the now cold coffee and went to get a refill – but the pot was cold now, too. “Damn it,” he grumbled. The fucking coffee maker was broken. Again.

“You know, you might be the richest man I know who still drinks coffee from a 20 year old machine you got as a birthday present. You know you can buy a new one for less than 100 bucks? You give me more weekly.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll just rewire it. Again.”

Ellie banged her head on the breakfast counter. “Quit being such a cheapskate, old man. How are you okay to buy me a car if you won’t spend less than 100 bucks on yourself?”

Ellie regretted her words before she could draw breath after that. She knew he was not a cheapskate, exactly. It wasn’t about the money. It was the coffee maker. What it symbolized.

His late wife had given it to him as a birthday present when Sarah was about one. She died in a car crash a week later. He was suddenly a widowed single father at 22.

He refused to replace that coffee maker, even though the coffee now came out burnt and ridiculously bitter. It had been rewired and fixed so many times neither Ellie nor Sarah wanted to touch the damned thing, worried they’d get shocked by it. Ellie swore she saw the lights flicker when Joel turned it on that morning.

But he didn’t react, just rolled his eyes at her, again, before picking up his keys and pushing her out the door, nowhere near fulfilled, coffee-wise.

Ellie wanted to shake the man who had been taking care of her since she turned 12. She had been Sarah’s mentee at the rec centre, and when her mother disappeared, Joel took her in, no questions asked. Her life took a 180 that day. He made sure she had everything she needed, got her into school, took interest in her progress, listened to her when she needed advice, even listened to her rants, albeit with a grumpy face.

She felt bad for him, he worked ‘til midnight yesterday. Shoot ran long. Ellie was sure he didn’t get home ‘til 2am. And now he’s already up to drive her to her summer art programme. She didn’t want to tell him about the programme at first, knowing it would take time out of his day to drive her back and forth. His schedule was bonkers to begin with. He’d done enough. So she got the bright idea of having a summer job. If she could buy a car, she could drive herself. There would be no need to trouble Joel anymore. Sarah drove her sometimes, but she wouldn’t be back from school for a couple more weeks.

Ellie and Sarah would talk sometimes, worried about Joel. He worked too hard. No social life to speak of, at least, not that they knew about. His life was the two of them, his brother Tommy and his work. They asked each other the last time they remembered him going out on a date, or even a vacation, for that matter, and neither could recall for sure. For a while, they thought he and Angela, his manager slash agent was a thing. But Tommy vehemently denied it, saying they were just business acquaintances. He changed the day his wife died, Tommy said. He became hardened. Stoic. Grumpy. To everyone save for Sarah, and now, Ellie. Not to worry, Tommy had told them, your father had people he could call if he felt… lonely, he said. Neither girls wanted to ask Tommy about their father’s social life, or lack thereof again after that.

Not that they were denying what Tommy suggested. It wasn’t as if he was short of interested parties. Being on a show as big as his and Tommy’s, he didn’t want for screaming ladies, something he was never interested in. He and Tommy started as contractors, renovating houses, their small company doing okay to support their small family, even in an expensive town like LA. They renovated a producer’s kitchen one day, and he offered them a contract as set builders for a show he was producing, and then the next, and then the next, and before they knew it, they had a show of their own, beginning with basic DIY stuff for a morning show, expanding to full on house renovations and builds. Tommy was the handsome, friendly, bubbly face of the show, and Joel the grumpy, reluctant contractor in the background. ‘Build with the Millers’ was a huge hit, and Joel Miller was the grumpy contractor that ladies and men alike swooned over.

Why exactly, neither Ellie nor Sarah understood. He was the same, scruffy man in his 40s that he was at home, just as he was on TV. No make up or overly styled hair for him. Apparently, after an incident involving a broken, aforementioned coffee machine and a late night taking care of a feverish Sarah, no make-up artist on set wanted to go near him again, lest they lose a few fingers trying. So he was on TV, face oily, scruff unkempt, hair unruly and all, dressed in whatever comfy shirt or flannel he managed to grab from his dresser that morning, and still the ladies swooned over him.

Fans approached him all the time, asking for pictures, often ignored. It became a thing at one point, people posting about their disappointing encounters with Joel Miller. He just walked past, hands around Sarah, shielding her face in case people took photos of her. He had relaxed a bit nowadays, but still wouldn’t entertain requests for photos, and still kept his arms around his girls when he noticed people whipping their phones out to take a picture. He left the glamourous part of the job to Tommy, much to Angela’s chagrin. He could make so much more, she had coaxed at one point. He didn’t need any more money than he already had, he said. So he left all the money making dalliances to Tommy.

Sarah once told Ellie that they lived in their old house for quite a while after the show took off, Joel only investing in a bigger place with a yard, only so that he could make sure Sarah’s privacy and safety was under control. He had woken up to a strange woman in his kitchen making breakfast for him and Sarah once and had to get a restraining order against her. He contacted a real estate agent that very day, and he slept better at night knowing that his daughters were safer behind the tall fences and a top notch security system.

Even though he himself was a simple man, he made sure his daughters want for nothing, as long as they remained humble. No designer anything for them. He still drove his beat up truck, so no Ferraris for the girls. He himself didn’t have the opportunity to go to college, so his girls were going, no matter what. That was why he was so against them having a job, he wanted them to focus. But what he didn’t realize was the girls looked up to him and lived by his example, wanting to work hard to enjoy their earnings more. When he bought Sarah a car instead of letting her get a job, she sold the brand new Prius he got her and gave the money to the rec centre she volunteered at, where she met Ellie. She got a job and got a second hand Mini instead.

And Ellie was determined to do the same.

She took out her phone and texted someone, glancing at her yawning adopted father as she did so. “So, can I get a job or not?”

“No.”

“Come on!!! Just for the summer. Not like I have school.”

“You have this class. This art thing. You begged me to get this tutor to teach you for the summer. Focus on that. I thought you wanted to go to art school.”

“Yeah, but we finish at noon. And they are prioritizing those going to colleges for volunteer work right now, so that’s out. What the hell am I supposed to do ‘til the next day? And I have to wait around for you to pick me up and you are not always on time, and you wouldn’t let me take an Uber.”

“So let me buy you a car.”

Ellie gave him the typical Miller girls’ combo of a side-eye and eye roll. “I guess the rec centre could use the money I will get from selling it.”

Joel stopped the truck at the rec centre, taking a deep, deep breath of frustration. He wanted to persist, but he could see he was fighting a losing battle. “Where exactly is this job you’re planning to get?”

Her face lit up, opening the door and jumping out, yelling at him to wait. She disappeared around the corner to the side of the building, coming back out not five minutes later, a massive cup of coffee in her hands. She presented it to him with both hands, complete with a curtsey, head bowed. “Coffee from my new work place, Your Majesty,” she said.

Joel rolled his eyes. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else in the world, it was pretentious fancy coffee, robbing people of their money. He didn’t take it.

“Come on, old man. You know you need this. Go on, I promise you it will be better than the ones you burn every morning.”

“How would you know that? You don’t even like coffee.”

“There’s a long line every day. Must be good. Plus, I need to help my new boss sell coffee now, don’t I?” she smirked.

Joel took yet another deep, impatient breath, took the coffee and had a sip.

Ellie watched as for a split second, his entire body relaxed, eyes closed, and breathing calmed. Just as quickly, though, he opened his eyes and sulked, placed the coffee in his cup holder and passed Ellie her back pack. “Pick you up around the usual time.” Ellie stepped back and waved Joel goodbye.

Huh. The man who swore coffee that didn’t come from his ancient coffee machine or the craft service of his show was crap just had a good reaction to that cup of coffee. Coffee that he would classify as ‘a modern fucking robbery’ just because they took some time to craft and cost more than a dollar. She walked back to the truck she had gotten the coffee from, taking the slotted tray with another cup of coffee and an iced tea placed on the sill.

“I guess I’ll see you after class then, Boss!” she semi shouted.

You dipped your head low to see her from your perch, winking at her, “Counting on it!” you called back, handing your next customer her usual cappuccino.

That first day, you made Ellie watch for an hour. She would mainly be taking the orders for you, handling the payments and cleaning the small fold out tables outside. You made sure she flipped through the booklet to make the teas and other drinks, the easier stuff. When she could stand to stay in the truck for longer than an hour without getting a headache from the smell of coffee, then maybe, just maybe, she could help you clean the machine.

You had taken over the truck from your stepmom Jenny, the woman you called Mom a couple of years before that. The woman had had enough of the glamorous city and decided to leave for her hometown, longing for a quieter life. The two of you started the moving café after your father passed a few years back, moving from one spot to another, going wherever the customers might be. Your father had owned a chain of cafés and sold them all when he decided to retire. You respected his wish to sell, but part of the reason you decided to open a moving café with Jenny was to have a connection with him. You worked for him most of your life, and making coffee made you feel closer to him. Apparently, he gave you a hollow ball with coffee beans inside as a rattle. His nickname for you was coffee related. This was what you loved doing.

Jenny did invite you to move with her, maybe start a business with her there, but you were in love then. So you stayed. Of course, the man you were so besotted with, the one who begged you to stay in LA with him rather than move with the woman who raised you decided that an opportunity to be with his dream actress was too good to pass up. He broke up with you over voicemail when she approached him at a party, drunk off his ass, all excited that she would even look at him. Last you heard, he lost his job as the manager at one of your Dad's old cafes for missing too much work to be with her on set and had become her personal assistant instead.

You went about your life, driving your little café around before deciding you couldn’t be bothered to do that anymore, and paid for a spot at the rec centre food truck centre. On your very first day there, two girls came running to your truck, the older one, Sarah, ordering the biggest iced latte you could offer, the younger one, Ellie, an iced tea, nose all scrunched up from the smell of coffee, which she apparently hated. And now she’s decided she was going to work for you. Go figure.

You didn’t really know much about her per se. You knew that Sarah’s father had adopted her, that he was a contractor, that she spent her evenings after school volunteering at the rec centre, just as Sarah did, and that she was taking personal tutoring from one of the art professors who volunteered at the centre during the summer. She spent her evenings at your truck while waiting for her dad, whom she only ever referred to as the old man to pick her up, yammering in your ears as you cleaned for the day, often running off with a quick see you tomorrow Lil over her shoulder when he called to let her know he had arrived.

You loved her company. To be frank, after Dave dumped you, your life consisted of work and sleeping, having to wake up super early to get the truck ready for business. You even open on the weekends, only taking every other Sundays off to spend some time with your Uncle Bill, Jenny’s only brother. That was it. You open and close at six every day, clean up, wash your truck on your way home, have a quick dinner, do some chores, read, and sleep. You tried to watch some TV at one point after Dave left, but his girlfriend Cleo’s face graced the homepage of your Netflix account, so you cancelled your subscription. You stopped your social media involvement, with the exception of the Insta page for your truck. Everything else would put you at risk seeing your ex with his glamourous sweetheart.

Ellie provided you entertainment, so to speak. She told you about the books she read, the movies she watched, the classes she took, and you found her excitement infectious, even if you had read and watched the movies she was talking about. She had a hard life before, not having the opportunity to enjoy the books and movies most people have at home, so her excitement in learning all these new things was something to celebrate. She started complaining about wanting a car, that her old man had offered to buy her one. But she wanted to get one on her own, just like her big sister. You suggested she get a job, just like you did back when you wanted one for yourself. Yeah, she had groaned, her old man wouldn’t let her get one. But she was going to talk at him until he gave in.

And gave in he did, apparently.

She was a hard worker, very friendly with the customers, cleaning as she went. But at the end of the day, she was exhausted, telling you she was going to sleep well that night. She helped you clean up before running off to use the bathroom.

Her phone started buzzing. ‘Old Man’ blinking on the screen. It went dark. And then buzzed again. After a few missed calls, a tired looking man in flannels came storming around the corner, panic written all over his face, eyes searching for someone amongst the parked trucks and the buzz of the people cleaning the area before dialling and placing the phone on his ear. Ellie’s phone buzzed again. It went dark as soon as the man took his phone away from his ears, dialling one more time.

Okay, it’s possible this was Ellie’s old man.

You walked up to him, the man walking in circles frantically looking for someone. You tapped him on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir, are you…”

He turned to look at you, an exasperated look on his face, “Look, lady, I’m in the middle of something, I don’t have time to take pictures right now, okay?”

Huh?

He saw your confusion, took a deep breath, “I’m looking for someone, so no, now is not a good time for pictures, okay?”

You stood there, still confused. The fuck was he talking about? What pictures?

“What?” he barked at you, annoyed that you couldn’t understand a few simple sentences.

Okay, you’re angry now.

“Well?”

“I was just going to ask, sir, if you are looking for Ellie,” you spat out. Slowly. Deliberately.

His expression changed. His stance shifted, his body language got softer. “Uh, yeah.”

“She’s in the bathroom,” you snarked, going to your truck to get her backpack and phone, shoving them both into his chest.

He finally saw the name on the truck. Wheely Coffee. That name was on his cup this morning. He closed his eyes, regret clear across his features. “Look, I’m sor…”

You slammed the door of your truck in his face, the door actually hitting his shoulder so hard he staggered backwards. You got in the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving him standing in the street, Ellie running out to meet him, confused as to what had just happened.

He looked at her, snapped out of his shock, handing her the back pack and phone.

Ellie didn’t take them, her arms crossed on her chest, staring at him with laser eyes.

“What the fuck did you do, Joel? What the fuck did you say to my boss?”

Part 2

[aleki-lives-here]

Okay, so. Technically it's a work in progress, okay? Sketches more than anything. Just half of those maybe. And it's been *checks* three months since I finished any drawing so the chances of this ever being finished are slim. But I felt like screaming really loudly and instead picked up a stylus and actually drew something and even had fun in the process, and that's already success in my book, and so I'm gonna celebrate this success by actually posting it. Maybe one day I'll finish it. Maybe I won't. Who the hell knows. Let this be here.

Edit: I do not know what the fuck Tumblr did to image quality but it's past 2am and I'm way too tired to fix it. If it's ever finished, I'll probably figure out how to not make it look so blurry! Or maybe it looks so blurry only for me, who knows. Either way, future me problem

[her-power]

just for tonight (Joseph Quinn x fem reader / one shot) 18+

warnings: adorable as well as smutty. I guess that sums it up!

summary: this is a one shot based on an interesting dream I had involving JQ & myself & a casino. my hyper-fixation heart couldn’t help it and wanted to turn it into a story. enjoy!

a/n: a new Eddie Munson series is in the works & fixation on the darkness II is in brainstorm mode!

word count: 2k? Maybe? I don’t know, I didn’t use my word document for this one lol

You wished you didn’t agree to go to this bachelorette party. You weren’t even in the wedding party but your friend who was a bridesmaid begged you to come because she couldn’t stand the maid of honor. Most Saturday nights you spent lounging on your couch with your cats, and a book on your lap. You felt like a grandma, but you were trying to be a good friend. The bride was in her early twenties, the rest of the party were in their mid twenties. You and your friend were the only ones who were thirty.

You really hated staying out late. It was almost 11 o’clock, you were sitting alone at the bar in the casino of the hotel you had to book. The bridal party wanted to head out to the next town to a bar that closed at 2am, that’s where you draw the line, you’d rather get drunk by yourself and then drag yourself to your hotel room. You were on your second tequila sunrise, which is a lot for you, playing candy crush on your phone, feeling eyes on you from drunk men who would walk by, preying on you. You could never take a compliment but you were pleased with how you looked tonight. A lightweight black mid sleeve dress adorned your curvy figure, went down to your ankles and had two slits up both sides of your legs. The bodice had a cut out diamond shape, exposing some of your sternum below your breasts. You didn’t wear a bra, the tie front of the bodice supported the girls delicately. You had finished your drink, and one magically appears in front of you.

You glance up at the bartender through your eyelashes. “I didn’t order that.” You say kindly.

“No, but the gentleman across the way did.” She tells you with a smirk and you glance behind her. Your breath hitches and butterflies fill your stomach; the most beautiful brown eyes stare back at you, smiling sweetly at you, holding up his glass as a hello. You have to close your mouth, you couldn’t believe someone as handsome as him had bought you a drink, and you couldn’t shake how familiar he looked to you. You clear your throat, digging through your wallet for a ten dollar bill, you hold it up, giving him a questioning, awkward smile. Casino drinks were way too over priced unless you were gambling. He laughs, and your nerves come back as he gets up from his seat and walks around the bar towards you. You rub your sweaty palms on your knees, your leg begins to bop uncontrollably as you feel his presence stand next to you.

You don’t look at him right away, but after giving yourself a little pep talk, remembering what your grandma said about men, you look up at him with a smile.

“I don’t want your money, love.” He’s English, his voice is nice, soft with a bit of a rasp. You realize you’re staring and laugh awkwardly, looking away and he smiles back at you, his cheeks dimpling.

“These drinks are way too overpriced.” You say quietly. “Please, take it.”

You move the bill towards him but he places his hand over yours, crumpling the bills under your hand and gently moves it away. You sigh, shaking your head, placing the money back in your wallet. “Okay, if you can afford it.”

“I can…I suppose.” He laughs softly.

You meet his eyes again, you were definitely a little drunk because you still couldn’t place why he was so familiar to you.

“May I sit?” He asks you and you nod. He slides on the bar stool next to you, his knee grazes yours slightly and you swear you can feel a current shoot down to your lower belly.

“Why did you buy me a drink?” You ask, a blush rising to your cheeks. “I mean, I look pretty pathetic, sitting alone at a bar while her friends are off galavanting somewhere else.”

He grins, perfect teeth. “I think you look pretty beautiful.”

You swallow a nervous laugh. “Oh.”

He cringes and chuckles. “I know, that was lame. I’m sorry.”

“Not lame, I just don’t know how to take a compliment.” You laugh, taking a swig off the drink. “It’s also my choice to sit alone at a bar. I didn’t feel like staying out til two a.m.”

“Ooof. Let me guess, bachelorette party?” He sips his own drink, leaning his head on his palm as he looks at you. You nod, taking another swig. “You seem nervous.”

“Nah.” You laugh a little too loudly and he stifles a giggle. “I’m just…I’m not used to…this. I mean…you’re just…I could just be drunk but, you’re insanely handsome.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh stop.”

“You can’t take a compliment either!” You laugh, nudging his shoulder. You were loosening up, and part of you thinks it’s his calm energy, and obviously mixed with the alcohol.

Realizing you had knocked back your entire drink, you do the logical thing and order another one. The two of you got to talking, mostly about favorites, why he was there alone, if he gambled and if he had a favorite late night snack. He said his name was Joseph, or Joe. You had turned your body closer to his, the slit of your dress had fell down just the right way so your leg was exposed. You caught him subtly glancing that direction, a blush creeping up on his cheeks when he realized you saw him looking. You clear your throat, glancing at the time on your phone. It was after midnight.

Call it a night and get his number.

Invite him upstairs.

Listen to your grandma.

Invite him upstairs.

“Do you like scrabble?” You ask him, smiling at the silliness of the question.

“Like the game? Yeah…why?” He laughs.

“I have travel scrabble in my room and free alcohol. Whoever loses has to order dominoes.” You grin, your head was foggy but you weren’t that drunk where you couldn’t make consensual decisions.

“Okay, shouldn’t take long for me to win.” He winks at you and you roll your eyes. You both pay your respective tabs and exit the casino, the two of you walk towards the elevator but you stop, leaning on his shoulder for support, unbuckling your heels and sighing with relief before stepping in the elevator. “I don’t know how you ladies do it with the heels.” He laughs.

“Worst. Nightmare.” You groan, tossing the heels into a nearby trash can. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, you catch his look and laugh. “$3 at savers. I have other shoes.”

“Just checking.” He giggles, letting you on the elevator first. You press the button to the 14th floor and he lets out a laugh.

“Your hotel is on the 14th floor? What do you know, so is mine.”

You give him a mock shock face. “Must’ve been fate!” Yeah, you were drunk.

“Oh shush.” He laughs, shaking his head. You had moved yourself closer to him by accident, you were beginning to sway, but he didn’t seem to mind when your hand lightly touches his and he places his hand gently on your lower back as the elevator doors open. You fumble with your purse, trying to find the keycard, weeble wobbling your way towards your room. You see the number for 1457 and hover at the door.

“Well, this just got even more interesting.” You look up at him curiously and he point to the room across the hall. “That’s my room.”

“No it’s not.” You say, genuinely shocked this time. He gives you a smile, taking his keycard out of his pocket, going up to the door and sliding it in the slot. It lights up green and he opens the door like he just did a magic trick.

“I think you’re stalking me.” You say, finally finding the keycard and sliding it in the door. You push open the door, turning on the lights and tossing your purse on floor. He follows you in, shutting the door and locking it behind you.

“I believe, darling. That you’re the one stalking me.” He grins, his body very close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of him. His hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you shudder.

“Scravel. Trabble. Oh my god. TRAVEL SCRABBLE.” You cackle and quickly move away from him, you didn’t know why, he was definitely about to kiss you. You could feel his eyes on you as you dig through your luggage to find the game, you look up at him and suddenly feel shy. “What?”

“Nothing.” He smiles, leaning against the wall. “You’re just adorable to look at.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you bite your lower lip, going back to searching for the game. He takes the bottle of red wine on the table and pours it into two plastic cups. You laugh when he hands it to you after finding the game.

“Classy.” You grin and clink your cup against his. You both sip the wine and you jump onto the bed, opening scrabble and sitting criss cross apple sauce. He sits across from you, placing the cup on the nightstand next to the phone.

You hand him his letters and the two of you sit silently as you move around the tiles.

Que.

Quest.

Tech.

He makes a word that is just jumbled letters.

“That’s not a word.” You tell him.

“It so is a word!” He laughs.

“LEK is not a word!”

“Google it.” He smirks coyly at you.

You narrow your eyes at him and open your phone, you let out a laugh. “LEK is a basic monetary unit of Albania?! There’s no way you knew that!”

“Are you upset with me for knowing unknown words?” He leans towards you, smiling. “I mean, I can order us the pizza.”

Your breath hitches, he’s so close to you, your knees are almost touching. Your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes, your heart was racing. In one swift arm motion, you launch scrabble off the bed, taking him by his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his middle.

“Fuck the pizza.” You say, before crashing your lips against his. His arms are strong as they wrap around your waist and you straddle him. His hand moves up your leg, to your thigh, gripping the muscle as he moves his way on top of you, his tongue sliding delicately in your mouth. You grip his hair in your fist, he moans softly against your mouth, your hands pull his dress shirt out of his pants and glide up his smooth back. He pulls away from your lips, kissing your neck softly, in between your covered breasts. Your eyes flutter close when you feel him slide down towards your waist and he scoots back on his stomach, massaging your calves. You lean up on your elbows, and watch as he moves the slit of your dress to the side. He leans forward but you stop him with the base of your foot against his forehead and he laughs.

“I don’t normally do something like this.” You tell him, swallowing hard.

He gently moves your foot away, resting it on his shoulder. “I don’t either.” He gently kisses your calf. “We don’t have to…”

“No, no…I want to.” You smile shyly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m the kind of woman that will…”

He moves back up to you, your leg going with him, draping over his shoulder. He cups your face, runs his thumb along your lips. “I don’t think you’re that kind of woman.”

You smile, lifting your face up to kiss him gently. He smiles into your kiss, sliding his way back down in between your legs. Your heart races, feeling him pulling you towards him by your thighs, your knees bend and your head falls back against the pillow as he leaves soft kisses on your inner thighs. You feel his fingers dance gently along the straps of your underwear and you lifts your hips as he pulls them off slowly. He looks up at you through his eyelashes and grins. He looked so sexy. You could honestly come by just his look alone.

“You are very, very beautiful.” He says softly, and his face disappears. You gasp softly when you feel his lips kiss close to your sex, and your back immediately arches when his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. You grip the blanket beneath you, a moan escaping your lungs.

“Ohhh…” You moan loudly, your hands fists his hair as he swirls his tongue in circles, licking you delicately and kneading at your thighs. You could already feel your orgasm building, but this was just…too fucking good. You didn’t want it to stop. You bite your bottom lip, your tummy muscles clench as your orgasm screams out of you and your back arches. He continues to eat you up, burying his face deeper as you continue to come.

He lifts his face, wiping his lips and smiles, you catch your breath, leaning up to catch his lips. You tasted yourself, and that made you crave him more. He holds your face with his soft hands and you move on top of him, ripping the buttons of his shirt open. He groans softly as you pull away from his lips and kiss his chest, moving your tongue in long stripes across his torso and move your lips down to his hips. You unzip his pants, kissing him gently on the sensitive skin on his pelvis and he shivers, letting out a soft gasp. Your eyes widen as you expose him, questioning whether or not you could fit this in your mouth. You kiss the tip gently and he moans, letting out a laugh of pleasure as you take him entirely into your mouth. He pulls gently at your hair as you swirl your tongue around the head, moving your fist up and down. His head hangs over the bed as he breathes heavily, you watch his chest rise and fall.

He gasps. “I want…I want to feel you.” You lift up your head and he sits up, taking your face, kissing your swollen lips. You shiver, more butterflies settling in your tummy and he watches as you lift your dress above your head. You instinctively shield yourself and he stands up, smiling at you, taking off the rest of his clothes. His hands gently go to your arms and he rubs his palms against your soft skin. You blush as he pulls your arms away from your chest, his eyes scan your body and he meets your gaze. He gives you another sweet smile, leaning forward to kiss you gently, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss and he kneads at your waist. He cups your ass, lifting you up to the picture wjndow ledge and he stands between your legs. You pull away from his mouth, smiling shyly.

“Condom?” You ask him. He smiles, nodding and going into his jacket pocket. You laugh almost.

“What?” He chuckles as he places the rubber over his erection. “I’m a gentleman. I’m never gonna assume.”

Your heart does a pitter patter, you swear you could see yourself falling in love with this man. He cups your cheek, kissing you deeply and you open your legs wider for him. He hooks your leg around his waist and stares into your eyes. He slowly slides into you and you gasp, your head falling back against the window with a thud. He lets out a sharp breath, gripping your thighs as he pushes himself deeper. He kisses your neck, thrusting into you faster and his lips catch your hardened nipple in his mouth.

“Mmmm…ohhhh…fuuuck…” You’re surprised at your own sounds, how insanely pornographic they sound and you moan even louder when he grunts loudly.

You pull his face towards yours, biting his lower lip and he holds onto the window for support, rocking his hips faster and faster. You whimper and he picks you up, still inside you and kissing you passionately as you both collapse on the bed. You place your leg on his shoulder and he kisses your calf, holding your leg to him as he moves, his other hand reaching to cup your breasts. You place your own hands through your hair, grazing up your body, the pleasure you were getting from him was making you see colors. His moves become a little ragged, and you can tell he’s getting close.

“Kiss me.” You moan, another orgasm building fast. He does as he is told, slipping his tongue in your mouth, thrusting harder and deeper. Your nails claw at his back, and he grunts loudly as you clench around his cock, screaming so loud you’re positive the whole building heard you. He comes hard seconds after you, his moans full of raw, raspy intensity. You hold him close to you, caressing his damp hair as you catch your breath. He lifts his face up to look at you and kisses you softly. You smile against his lips and he gently pulls out of you. He sighs, resting his head on your chest.

“I don’t mean to put a damper on this wonderful night…but I really have to pee.” You laugh and he chuckles against your chest, moving off of you. You hop off the bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t shirt from your luggage and rush into the bathroom, after doing your business you tidy yourself up and brush your teeth. When you exit the bathroom, Joseph is sitting with his ankles crossed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. You had forgotten his room was across the hall.

He smiles sweetly at you and you smile back, crawling next to him in the bed. He cradles you against his chest, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“Question game?” He says with a laugh and you nod.

“Okay, where did you grow up?”

You suddenly felt a pit in your stomach. Talking about home opened wounds that were still healing, but you answer him anyway. “Massachusetts.”

“With parents and siblings?” His finger dances gently around your shoulder.

“No siblings, just my parents.” You sigh. “Only child.”

“Me too.” He chuckles. “Where are your parents now?”

Fuck. Here comes the most awkward interaction in the world. He feels you tense up but doesn’t say anything. “…you don’t have to answer that, love. I’m sorry if it’s a touchy subject.”

“No.” You laugh awkwardly. “It’s not, it’s just…what I’m about to tell you usually makes people feel uncomfortable and word vomit which makes me want to crawl into a hole, but I don’t think you’re that kind of person.”

You feel his eyes on you and you glance up at him, he was really listening to you. “My dad lives in a one bedroom apartment with his dog Felix in Boston. And…my mom…she died when I was seventeen.” His hold on you tightens and he gently caresses your face, moving his face closer to yours to stare into your eyes.

“Tell me about her.” He says softly and tears immediately spring to your eyes. You have never had someone say that to you, not even your loved ones, let alone a stranger.

So, you tell him. You tell him how she was the funniest woman on planet earth. How she could quote some memorable movies using their voices and would go out of her way to make a person laugh. How much she loved you. How angry you were when she died. How you hope to never scream like that again in your life. How sometimes you wish you could go back, and take her place.

You feel his lips on your cheeks, kissing your tears away, you didn’t even realize you had been crying.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.” You laugh, wiping your face.

“Don’t ever apologize for talking about an important person like her. She sounds like a lovely woman.” He rubs your cheeks. “She made one hell of a daughter.”

You laugh softly, pressing your forehead against his. “How is it possible I meet a perfect stranger at a casino and I still have no idea who you are?”

He laughs and sighs. “Well…do you know Metallica?” He almost blushes and you stare into his eyes, confusion on your face.

Then you realize.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Holy. Shit.

You gasp loudly, launching yourself back from him, your body falling off the bed as he tries to grab you and you land on your back. You let out a laugh.

“Are you telling me…no, no, no, hold on. Hold on.” You meet his eyes and he’s stifling a laugh but also looks horrified. “Joseph…Joseph…Quinn? Who played Eddie Munson? Are you…me? Me?!”

You lean up on the edge of the bed, staring straight into his eyes, he looks like a lost puppy and your heart skips a beat. “If you want me to leave, I will leave. I know it’s a lot; I do, but…I felt something as soon as I looked into your eyes. I can’t explain it…but I understand if you don’t want me here.”

You stare at him, leaning closer to him, your hands grab his face. You gently run your hands over his cheeks, his lips, studying him more. “No…I want you to stay.”

He lets out a sigh. “Really?”

You smile largely. “Right now, you’re just the handsome man who bought me a drink at a bar, who made me laugh and listened to me talk about the worst day of my life. You left no hints, you were just you. Just for tonight, and forever, that’s who you are to me. Just Joseph.”

He smiles, grabbing your hand, his cheeks dimpling, and you kiss him.

Boy, do you kiss him.

Fin.

[ray-gt]

sleep-in

I've been thinking about the girls again. A quick one because I love them.

___________________________

“Morning,” Lilah murmured.

Dani felt her girlfriend’s large nose nuzzle the length of her spine before her shoulders were enveloped by the soft cushiony press of her lips.

Dani simply groaned in response, rebelling against Lilah’s obvious push to wake her up. She turned further away, burying her face in the pillow and pulling the sheet over her head.

Lilah let out a breathy chuckle before flipping back down with a petulant whine. The bed shook from her movement but Dani was too sleepy and too stubborn to give Lilah the reaction she was hunting.

Just as she felt sleep tickle the edges of her consciousness, Lilah rolled over again in Dani’s direction, chasing it away. She felt the sheet being pulled off her head and she scrambled to grab it. It was laughable how hard she had to pull just to keep it from being pulled away any further. She knew this was just a game for Lilah. If her girlfriend wanted to, there would be no contest. Instead she was content to let Dani, sleepy and disgruntled, try and eventually give up.

“Fine.” She muttered. She let go of the sheet and flopped back face-first on the pillow.

Above her Lilah huffed.

“Dani.” She complained, drawing in out like a child. “It’s 8am! You don’t want to waste the morning. I’ve been up for an hour already.”

Dani didn’t reply. Lilah had a faulty brain that enjoyed getting up at the asscrack of dawn, but Dani’d been up until 2am the night before prepping a new case briefing for the partners at her firm, she didn’t have the same reverence. This sacred space of morning was hers to turn her brain off and indulge in the freedom of a semi-empty mind. The pure physicality of being tired.

When the silence endured long enough for Lilah to realise Dani didn’t intend on replying to or acknowledging her, she let out a long, loud sigh.

That’s ok, Dani could deal with Lilah’s fidgeting.

There was nothing stopping Lilah from seizing the day or whatever it was that people did when they voluntarily got up before mid-morning.

Dani was content until she felt the press of something indenting the pillow around her and then Lilah’s large fingers curling beneath her and meeting below Dani’s stomach.

With a yelp, she was airborne and watched as her precious pillow grew further and further away. As she watched her view was replaced with Lilah’s smug grin.

Her girlfriend looked the opposite to what Dani felt. Was it some magic in giants that meant their equivalent of ‘bed head’ was just slightly tussled? What would be a sagged, tired squint on Dani was a soft low-lidded stare from Lilah. When they made eye contact - Dani dangling above her girlfriend’s face - Lilah’s eyes shone.

“Li,” Dani groaned. Her voice was cracked with the disuse of morning. “You know I’m not a nice person until at least 10am.”

“I don’t mind.” Lilah shrugged.

Dani rolled her eyes.

“How kind. Can you please put me down? I need at least 10 more hours of sleep.”

Lilah pouted. “But I miss you.”

“I’m literally sharing a bed with you.”

Lilah didn’t reply but Dani saw an idea form behind her eyes.

“Ok, fine.”

The hand holding Dani began to move, but instead of it returning her to her pillow, she was lowered onto Lilah’s chest. Then Lilah drew the sheet up to her and rested back.

“You can sleep.” She said at last, grabbing a book and her glasses from her bedside table.

Dani wanted to protest. She felt like she should say something about agency and autonomy, but she was too tired and too comfortable to care. Lilah was letting her sleep-in (which she rarely ever did, regardless of size) so Dani decided to just take the win.

“You’re so needy.” Dani muttered by way of rebuttal. She felt Lilah’s chest vibrate as her girlfriend hummed in contentment.  

Slowly, the rise and fall of Lilah’s chest, the quiet turn of a page, and the rhythmic wash of Lilah’s breath coaxed her back into the sweet embrace of sleep.

(I've been writing a bit of Dani and Lilah stuff offline, and I'm having a lot of fun I fear. You can rad more about them here, or over one AO3 where I've been reworking the story a bit - ray xx)

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Yandere Kars X Pillar woman reader who survived because she was with baby Whamu and baby Santana, protecting them.

This idea makes me go monkey brain, had to write a short on this and upload at nearly 2am.

Defy nature

(Yandere Kars X Female pillar woman reader)

You frantically shushed the crying baby in your arms as you cradled him in an attempt to quell him.

“Please stop crying or they'll find us” you quietly pleaded. Not wanting to draw the attention of Kars and Esidisi. You'd already watched them mow down even the strongest of their own kind, dead set on killing everyone that opposed them. You'd been told to flee with the only two children Wammu and Saitana as everyone tried to defend against them.

You turned to the basket you were kneeling by. Saitana began to stir.

“No no no, not you too” you muttered before you heard steps approaching.

You threw your head towards the source of the sound and your blood went cold.

“(Y/n)” Kars lulled your name, covered in the blood of your own.

“you never were a fighter, always so tender my flower” he said as he took another step forward.

Tender, a word he described you with a great many times. Sickened you to think he'd been one of your paramours now that he had massacred so many.

“I won't let you kill them too!” You proclaimed as you put wammu back in the basket.

“No I don't intend to kill them, children have such impressionable minds… I shall train them to serve me” he said. Your gut churned, use children to fulfill his own sick twisted plans. You couldn't understand his thought process.

“Why? Why would you do such a thing to yourself?” You questioned.

“I wanted to carve a path for our kind, we were once revered by the humans as God. Now they are trying to kill us. Once I find a way to release our true potential we shall be the ultimate lifeforms” he explained.

“Yes that was the case before but any creature does not wish to be ruled by another, fear is a necessity for any to survive… what you intend to do is go against nature itself” you seethe, looking him straight in his eyes. He was different, frenzied with an insatiable appetite.

“What you've become now is a sick mockery of our brethren, the ones you have slayed without even a thought!” you yelled. Both babies now wailing.

“I never thought I'd see the day you'd yell” he said in an amused tone.

“I hold no manners to you, you will just kill me like everyone else” you told him.

Within the blink of an eye he was now right beside you. Holding your head in his hand.

“I couldn't,” he confessed.

“In truth I always felt a burning Jealousy towards your other partners. For so long I've wanted you to myself” he continued as his free hand delicately toyed with your horn, something he knew you'd usually take great pleasure in but not now. It felt more  perverse than before with that hungry gaze, like a boa seconds before it eats its prey whole.

“And now I do” he said.

[eds6ngel]

Please friend, I need Eddie and his equally feral grungy little girlfriend. Think like Allison Reynolds from the Breakfast Club before they gave her the hideous pink makeover. I want these two clowns to match each other’s energy, both of them nuts about D&D and metal, and I want her to be the one member of Hellfire who is in charge of drawing these insanely intricate drawings of everyone’s player characters.

being eddie's grungy gf would include ...

a/n: i think this calls for some headcanons! and i suppose this is my reminder to watch 'the breakfast club' as i still haven't gotten round to it ! :')

warnings: SLIGHT SMUT!! (one mention of sex, two allusions.) fem!reader. artsy!reader. grungy!reader. kissing. one mention of people calling eddie a 'freak.' tons of fluff and comfort !!

𝜗𝜚 you guys met in your sophomore year.

𝜗𝜚 eddie had been looking to set up a d&d club at the end of the year, knowing his middle school friends (jeff & gareth) were now going to be in high school with him.

𝜗𝜚 eddie didn’t know that you played d&d at the time, but he had sneaked a glance at your notebook during art class and was very intrigued into your drawings, many which consisted of your own monsters, fairies, dragons, anything magical and mystical.

𝜗𝜚 he knew the opportunity was even greater when you were pinning ‘battle of the bands’ posters in the school hallways. he couldn’t believe it was you making those incredible designs.

𝜗𝜚 asked you right there and then if you could help him design a poster for his new club.

𝜗𝜚 you were unsure at first, wondering what the hell this random dude who was in your art class wanted a poster for.

𝜗𝜚 however, you were immediately on board when he mentioned it was for d&d.

𝜗𝜚 you were technically the first member to join his club. it was you and him against the world at that point.

𝜗𝜚 you asked some of your artsy friends who were also in the drama club if you could rent their space on friday nights for weekly campaigns.

𝜗𝜚 they reluctantly said yes just because it was you. eddie was happy as it was one of the few groups of people outside of his own friend group that weren’t calling him a ‘freak’ upon arrival.

𝜗𝜚 over the summer, you and eddie met up to discuss how the whole ordeal would work. his trailer had basically become your second home by that point.

𝜗𝜚 you had started cooking meals together, you would go out to benny’s for a quick evening bite, you even started sleeping over at his.

𝜗𝜚 you began with bringing over a sleeping bag to camp out on his floor, but it soon turned into the two of you just sharing his bed. platonically, of course.

𝜗𝜚 it wasn’t until jeff and gareth came to visit the two of you so you could start drawing their characters for eddie’s visual reference that they encouraged eddie to grow some balls and ask you out.

𝜗𝜚 it took him a couple more weeks, but he finally got there.

𝜗𝜚 luckily you felt the same and you shared your first kiss that day.

𝜗𝜚 and by the time your junior year rolled around, everything was settled in place.

𝜗𝜚 eddie let you sit on his lap during campaigns, to which the boys always complained about.

𝜗𝜚 and after the boys had left, you got up to some… not exactly PG activities on his throne.

𝜗𝜚 or your throne, should you say. eddie said that the throne was all yours, since you decorated the entire thing.

𝜗𝜚 it was actually a 50/50 split effort.

𝜗𝜚 you were the couple who annoyingly blasted metal music out of his van on late night drives at 2am.

𝜗𝜚 hopper stopped you once as you had been getting noise complaints from locals.

𝜗𝜚 you and eddie both agreed it was only because it was metal music and continued anyway.

𝜗𝜚 eddie didn’t realise how feral you were until you got together. you were pretty excitable when you were simply platonic friends, but this was a whole different level.

𝜗𝜚 he didn’t care though as he loved it (and it also transferred to the bedroom.)

𝜗𝜚 sickly PDA couple alert ! eddie’s kissing you all the time ! the boy cannot keep his hands to himself ! he’s infatuated by you !

𝜗𝜚 always sharing cassettes. the both of you never buy new albums individually anymore. you either listen to them together and nerd out, or you share them back and forth.

𝜗𝜚 friday night dates after d&d ! i repeat, friday night dates after d&d !

𝜗𝜚 followed by some truly amazing sex. thank god wayne took the late night shift on fridays. and you hoped it never changed. because it was always the best ending to your week, and you didn’t want to change it for as long as you lived.

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @agxxb