#fluffy logicality stories!

[edupunkn00b]

Where the Air Is Sweet, Chapter 13

Photo by Rachel Martin via Unsplash

Prev - Ch. 13 - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 871 - Rated: G - CW: fluff! (and storybooks) :D

Patton and Logan read together. The story sparks a question from Logan. -

“‘Isn’t it odd,’” Patton read aloud from the book his students—well, his students and their parents—had given him for Teacher Appreciation Day. “‘We can only see our outsides but nearly everything happens on the inside.’”

Logan softened in his hold and hummed, the vibrations dancing out from the middle of his back and against Patton’s chest and arms. They sat curled together on their new loveseat, celebrating its arrival with stories and cuddles. With Patton’s arms curled around his middle, Logan held the book, the simple text and illustrations captivating them both.

They’d originally planned to each read their own books. Logan was working through The Four Agreements, but he’d looked up with each of Patton’s tiny gasps and coos at the lovely storybook. Finally, his curiosity had burned too brightly to contain and he’d sheepishly asked Patton to start again from the beginning.

That had been well over an hour ago. The soft story of a lonely little boy, his new cake-obsessed mole friend, and a promised fox and horse had kept their attention as the night grew dark.

“‘“Imagine how we would be if we were less afraid,” said the boy.’” Patton continued, then waited for Logan to turn the page.

Instead of turning, though, Logan held the book with one hand and brushed his fingertips over Patton’s knuckles. “What do you think we would be like if we were less afraid, Pat?”

“I wouldn’t need a nightlight,” he chuckled gently, then rested his cheek against the top of Logan’s head. His hair was warm and soft, and lightly tickled Patton's cheek in the most delightful way.

Logan’s heartbeat thudded against Patton’s forearm but he didn’t speak.

“That’s not really what you meant though, huh, Lo?” Patton murmured.

“No,” he whispered. His heart raced in the quiet room until Patton imagined he could hear it. Logan sucked in a sharp breath and slowly let it out, the warmth radiating over Patton’s hands. “I’m not afraid of the dark or spiders”—he tilted his head to smile at him—”Creepy crawly death dealers. But… I do get scared. There are… there are many things that frighten me.”

The muscles in Patton’s arms flexed as he held Logan just a little tighter, pretending for a moment he could banish all of his dearest friend’s fears through the strength of flesh and bone and will alone. “What are you afraid of, Lo?”

“I…” He set down the book, carefully marking the page with the little card the children had signed. “I was afraid to ask you about this loveseat,” he finally said, tracing the weave of the upholstery.

“I’m glad you conquered your fear,” Patton smiled. “I really like being able to sit with you like this.”

“As do I,” Logan admitted in a tiny whisper. “I…” His heartbeat shot back up and he glanced at their bedroom door.

“Lo,” Patton began, very gently. “There’s no wrong answer to this, I promise, but…” Logan shifted in his arms, not pulling away, but turning until he was nearly cradled against his chest. “Is there something else you want but you’re afraid to ask for?”

His answer was a nod. And a bright red flush across his cheeks.

Patton pressed one small kiss into his hair and waited. When Logan still didn’t speak, Patton kissed the top of his head again. “I promise you, Lo… The absolute worst thing I might say is no.”

“I can imagine a great deal worse than a simple ‘no,’” Logan whispered. “In fact, ‘no’ feels like the most I can hope for.”

“You can never get what you don’t ask for,” Patton replied. “I care about you far too much to say anything worse than ‘no.’” Big, dark eyes looked up at him and from this angle, Patton caught a glint of the silver at Logan's collarbone. He tapped gently at the metal. “I might surprise you again.”

Lithe, warm fingers covered Patton’s and something shifted behind Logan’s eyes. He smiled at last, the worry melting from his face. “Promise?” he asked.

“Promise,” Patton said, nodding solemnly.

“If I were fearless,” he began, eyes downcast as though a small part of him was still very much afraid of Patton’s expression. “If I were fearless,” he tried again, “I would ask if you wanted to share a bed.”

The words came out in such a rush, it took Patton a moment to be sure he even understood the question. In his silence, Logan kept his eyes trained down, stiff in Patton's arms. “Do you mean every night?” Patton asked. Despite Logan’s obvious discomfort, he couldn’t help the smile growing on his face. “Not just when I have a nightmare?”

Still looking down, Logan nodded slowly. “While I would never wish distress or a disturbed night of sleep for you, I… I miss it when…” His voice cracked and he sniffled. Despite Patton's assurances, Logan's fear over Patton's response poured off of him in waves, squeezing his heart.

“Oh, Lo…” Patton lifted his chin and smiled when he finally looked up. “My bed feels awfully lonely without you in it, Lo. I'd love to share it with you.”

“Really?” Logan asked, eyes grown misty above a tiny, shaky smile.

“Really.”

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙love is never logical | 2023 grid˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pt3

pairing: 2023 f1 grid x nepo baby y/n prost reader (she/her)

genre: social media au, friends to lovers

warnings: spoiled nepo baby:)) 3rd & final part!! fluffy af probably

summary: in which everyone's favourite nepo baby finally feels ready to share her love story with the world ❤️

a/n: last part tehehe this was so fun to write LOL it feels so silly & ridiculous fr but hope u like it i tried to make it not super obvious who her man is but idk if it worked

request!!!: I would love a smau with reader who’s a nepo baby but is everyone’s fave nepo because she’s just living life aesthetically and the grid loves her and she’s hinting at a soft launch (idrc with which driver)

fc: gracie burns

my masterlist

part 1 • part 2 • part 3

instagram ->

ynprostupdates

liked by user12, user38, and 219,938 others

ynprostupdates an image of daniel ricciardo holding a mystery woman in an embrace from last night has been circulating, rumours saying it was y/n prost. could daniel be the mystery man that y/n has been soft launching on her social medias the past few months?

view all 18,283 comments

user1 NO WAY

user2 i thought daniel was with heidi? 😭😭

user3 well that definitely isnt heidi 💀

user4 well duh

user5 where my y/ndaniel shippers at

user6 all rise

user7 nooo i really thought it was lando

user8 where's that one y/nlance truther from twitter at right now

user9 bit of an age gap

user10 you must be new here

user11 💀💀💀

user12 that could literally be anyone, also it's ONLY A HUG!!

user13 🤔

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by landonorris, heidiberger_, and 847,192 others

yourusername my fwends

view all 8,193 comments

user14 obsessed with y/n subtly setting the record straight about daniel 💀

liked by yourusername, heidiberger_

danielricciardo i meant what i said y/n, you are banned from drinking alcohol

landonorris i second this

yourusername since when did men think they could tell me what i can & cant do? 🤔

danielricciardo since you became a danger to urself & others perhaps

heidiberger_ im on ur side btw y/n/n

yourusername knew i could count on you

user15 this feels like such a random group of people to hang out separately

user16 i dont think so they're all friends arent they?

user17 tbh i think everyone loves y/n but she does this thing every so often where she hangs out with wags & i think it's to make sure everyone knows she's not overstepping or anything

user18 y/n is my favourite (potential) wag

yourusername posted a story

liked by alex_albon, landonorris, and 538,293 others

landonorris since when were you in ireland

yourusername since like 2 hours ago

landonorris why

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landonorris you know a race weekend starts tomorrow right

yourusername you know we're not f1 drivers right?

danielricciardo bring me a guinness back!

yourusername y/bff/n said she'll bring it in her mouth & feed you it like a little bird

danielricciardo dont want one anymore

user19 Y/N WHY ARE YOU IN MY COUNTRY

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, lilymhe, and 792,103 others

yourusername no one panic we're back on time

view all 6,294 comments

user21 was lance in ireland with her

user22 no just lily y/bff/n & some other girls apparently

landonorris slay‼️

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landonorris urm. yes

yourusername LOL

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lilymhe 😌😌😌

user23 i want y/n's life

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yourusername posted a story

liked by lilymhe, lance_stroll, and 827,183 others

lilymhe omg y/n

lilymhe this is so hard launch

yourusername 😭😭😭 DONT SAY THAT

lance_stroll 😧😧😧

user25 THERE'S NO WAY YOU GUYS ARENT DATING

user26 OH MY GOD IM SCREAMING

lewishamilton congratulations to you both😊

yourusername THIS WASNT MEANT TO BE A HARD LAUNCH

maxverstappen1 only took him almost beating me for you to hard launch

yourusername you STILL got no bitches max

yourusername sorry for being mean im overwhelmed right now

maxverstappen1 it's all love 🤔

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, maxverstappen1, and 1742,893 others

yourusername & i fell for you like water 💧

tagged: lance_stroll

view all 43,204 comments

lance_stroll i love you ❤️

liked by yourusername

lilymhe FINALLY

yourbff thank god coz i cant keep anymore secrets

danielricciardo anymore? what else do you know?

lewishamilton congratulations for real this time!

maxverstappen1 congrats on pulling

yourusername 😘

landonorris 🎉🥳🍾🎁🎈🎊

charles_leclerc i miss you y/n please get rid of this man and return to ferrari immediately

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yourusername for you guys i just might😌❤️

alex_albon officially graduated from third wheel status

liked by yourusername, lilymhe

lance_stroll

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 828,103 others

lance_stroll this is me flexing

tagged: yourusername

view all 34,193 comments

yourusername 🫶🫶🫶

liked by lance_stroll

pierregasly kika is celebrating rn

yourusername my girlll😊😊

fernandoalo_official congratulations to you both 🎉‼️❤️💚

user32 this is so personal to me

user33 she is so amazing

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liked by lance_stroll, yourusername

THE END 🤍

[princessbrunette]

stepbro!rafe is so….. 😵‍💫

pretty dark content ig !! tw: stepcest, some piss stuff if you squint but not rlly, some angry rafey, thas it 🤓

even with sarah standing between the two of you, you on one side of her, him on the other, he’ll still reach behind her back to tug at your hair— staring straight ahead, not even indulging in watching your head gently tip back— because he’s a big boy, he’d never tug too hard. he does let himself glance at you with a smirk when you pout and fix your heads position, sarah tsking at his actions, sending a non committal swat his way, none the wiser.

he’ll embarrass you at your sleepovers with your girl friends, barging into your room when you’re all sat chatting in a circle on your carpet, messing up your dresser and shelves as he looks for something he apparently left there. your friends don’t complain, either too intimidated by his mean presence or thinking he’s sexy enough to get away with it, hair being twirled in his direction which makes your tummy twitch in irritation and you don’t know why. if you tell him to hurry up, or that you don’t have whatever he’s looking for, or god forbid you tell him to get out, he doesn’t care who’s around— he’ll slowly stride over and squat down by your side, squishing your cheeks with his hand making you look at him. “s’that any way to talk to your big brother?” he hums, a threat of course. your friends, wiser than you, suspect something weird is going on but never would say anything. an accusation like that would be crazy, right?

he glares at you when you’re sauntering around in your bikini, tugging at the strings holding it to your body whenever he passes you making you let out a displeased moan that makes his cock bloat, even if you pair it with an attempted smack. “don’t wear that shit around then?” he shrugs like it’s simple logic as he walks away.

he would die before he lets anyone call him “rafey”, but when little old you says it — he has to admit it’s kind of cute. he does think you’re sweet, he really does — when you haven’t seen him all day and despite him treating you all mean, or acting like a total perv you’re still excited to see him and talk his ear off about your girly drama he doesn’t care for. “oh— and then rafey, i forgot to tell you, she got all up in her face and was like ‘you’re not even a real kook!’ and everyone was like ohhhh—” you ramble, following him through the kitchen as he walks through the house, getting on with his daily life just trusting you’ll follow.

“oh yeah?” he hums, so evidently disinterested but you’re too stupid to notice. he heads towards the bathroom as you continue telling your story and you stop at the door, trailing off with a little furrowed brow when he walks inside.

“rafey m’not done with the story!” you whine, and he’s just casually yanking you inside by the forearm, eyes rolling back into his head as he nudges the door shut behind him.

“yeah yeah, keep talkin’ i just gotta take a leak.” he works his belt open expertly with his hand, looking at you boredly waiting for you to continue. however your interest has totally shifted, happy to get all close and personal with your favourite step-sibling, your innocent brain curious to how his anatomy worked. he’s happy to teach you, he even lets you hold his cock whilst he pee’s, smushing your cheek to his arm and giggling as you aim it into the bowl, giggling more when rafe winces and says “shit, stop squeezin it so hard would you?” irritably.

he is always there for you in other ways of course, like when it’s storming or you’ve had a nightmare and you show up at his bedroom door at 4AM. he looks all cute standing there squinting half awake in just his sweatpants, rubbing at his eyes with messy hair. he lets you in reluctantly when you whine about how you can’t get back to sleep without him, watching you clamber onto his bed, happy as a clam in your fluffy socks, one of them pulled up your calf and the other barely hanging on to your foot. he shakes his head and shuts the door behind him of course, his dad definitely wouldn’t approve of rafe taking advantage of his new step-sister like this, and hell, sarah would surely kill him in his sleep.

he leaves rough kisses on your temple when you snuggle into him, and when you get all restless and try to wake him up properly to entertain you because you just can’t get back to sleep, he really has no choice but to sling your thigh open over his bent leg and stuff a hand down your pink panties, being sure to keep a hand free to cover your mouth whilst he strokes the audible stickiness with a roughness that was totally trademark to rafe. he had to, okay? you wouldn’t go to sleep and leave him alone otherwise! he was only trying to calm you down.

when he gets into his explosive arguments with ward, which was inevitable and horrifyingly often — you’d be surprised at his softness directed towards you if you ever happened to walk in, or be witness to the aggression he displayed. even when mad, he’d sigh and storm over to you, clasping a hand on your shoulder and turning you around toward the door. “go back upstairs, kid alright? this doesn’t — doesn’t concern you. big kid stuff.” he tries to usher you out.

“hell— maybe she should hear this rafe! she’s family after all, and you’re screwing all of us!” ward stands, lifting his arms in resignation. your stepbrother is quick to let go of you to close the distance between him and his father, grabbing his collar roughly and pointing a finger in his face, panting roughly through his nose.

“you leave her out of this. do not fucking play with me dad, a’ight?” he shakes like a feral dog, but still manages to turn his head to you who’s lingering in the doorway nervously. “go, sweetheart.” sweetheart, ward stares at him— the shock from his sons aggression melting into one of disgust, suspicion. surely rafe isn’t doing what he thinks he’s doing.

oh but he is, and then some.

[miclipse]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ princess & the fish.

pairing: rafayel x fem! reader

synopsis: rafayel’s dream of turning into a human had miraculously come true! but things didn't turn out like he had expected…

word count: 3.7k

cw: afab! reader, rafayel is a fish (literally, but he turns into a human), reader is a princess, nicknames used (princess, your highness), rafayel struggling to walk with legs, rafayel hates toes, very slight and brief abysswalker! rafayel reference (just one line), reader finds rafayel half-naked in her room, fluff

dt: everyone that wanted fishy rafayel (aka fifi) to turn into a human + the person in my asks asking if i was continuing this.

note: reupload because apparently my post didn’t show up in the tags :( but unfortunately that means the ask got deleted as well, sorry anon :(

likes reblogs & comments appreciated! <3

this all had to be a dream, right?

…actually, no. this was most definitely a nightmare, if anything.

because why else would rafayel be standing naked in your bedroom, the fishtank he once called his home now nothing but shattered glass scattered across your study table?

there was no logical explanation for this, rafayel thought to himself while struggling to manoeuvre around your room with his new pair of human appendages.

he spent at least ten minutes stumbling over his toes while trying to make his way to your bathroom door.

…seriously, why did humans even have a need for toes? and ten of them, at that!

when rafayel had finally, finally made it to the bathroom entrance, he spent another five minutes figuring out the mechanism behind how to open it.

turns out, the grand secret behind it was that he had to push the door, not pull.

once in the bathroom, rafayel was tempted to fill up your bathtub with water and just jump in for a swim, but he figured seeing a naked man with a towel wrapped around his waist would be a little less intense for you than having to see a fully naked stranger swimming around in your tub.

thus, rafayel opted to grab a spare towel from the cabinet just under the sink, carelessly tying it around his waist to hide his indecency before you came back from your royal duties.

rafayel spent yet another ten minutes trying to walk out of your bathroom (he nearly slipped at least twice but he refuses to talk about it) and towards the nearest furniture he could sit on without it breaking due to his new physique.

looking around your bedroom to ensure that there were no maids around to witness this phenomenon, rafayel plopped himself on the edge of your soft mattress.

resting his head on his fist, his eyebrows furrowed in the process.

this was not how he imagined things to go at all.

in all honesty, rafayel was pretty satisfied living life as your pet fish. though there were many pros and cons that came along with his new domestic life, he wouldn't have wished for things to be any different than how it was.

of course, there were times when rafayel would ponder to himself how life would be for him if he were to turn into a human and be able to properly talk with you.

but out of all the exaggerated and cliche scenarios rafayel had fantasized about during his free time (which was whenever you were not around), being naked with only a fluffy white towel tied around his waist as he dreadfully waited for you to return was definitely not one of them.

well, it probably was. but it was not at the top of his list, that was for sure.

but here came the real question—

how did he even turn into a human? there was no logical or scientific reason behind how all of this was possible. rafayel had never heard others talk about stories of fishes turning into humans either.

well, unless you included ariel from that little mermaid movie. but ariel was a mermaid, so it really was not exactly the same as rafayel’s current predicament.

and besides, rafayel didn’t think he knew or angered any shady sea witches back when he lived in the waters.

there was nothing he could really do at the moment. as much as rafayel wanted to sneak to the royal library to dig out some sacred books in order to do some research about his condition, he dared not imagine the consequences he would have to face if anyone caught him sneaking out of the princess’s private chambers with only a skimpy bath towel covering him from waist-down.

just the image of him getting beheaded by the royal guards was enough to convince rafayel not to leave your private chambers, knowing it was the safest place for him to be in right now.

so his only option now was to wait for his princess to return to her chambers so that he could try to explain the situation to you in hopes that your naive little brain could understand and help him out.

he was your beloved fish afterall, so surely you would find a way to help him, right?

an ear-piercing scream echoed loudly through the room.

rafayel's eyes snapped open in panic and immediate dread, sitting up from the bed frantically only to be met with a big white thing smacking his face.

as he made a clumsy attempt to back away from the bed and nearly tripping over his newly grown toes (human toes be damned), rafayel’s eyes wandered to the big white thing that was thrown at him.

it was your polar bear plushie, he noted.

rafayel then turned to look at the door, only to see you standing there looking like a frightened kitten, now holding a thick, hard-cover book ready to launch at him once more.

it was only then rafayel realised that he had accidentally fallen asleep in your bed while waiting for you to come back.

this was not good. not good at all.

“who… who are you?!” you shrieked out, preparing yourself to throw the book in his face within the next five seconds if he didn't respond.

“me? i’m…” without even realizing it, rafayel darted his eyes to look at your study table as he fell silent, his lips pursing together.

you gave him a look of skepticism before slowly following his gaze. the man watched as you let out a horrified gasp when you saw that your fishtank was nothing but shattered glass on the table.

“fifi!”

running to your study table, you stared at what once used to be fifi's home for the past three months, now nothing but broken shards scattered all across the table.

“you! what have you done to my fifi?”

rafayel backed up into the corner of the room when you pointed an accusatory finger at him, feeling very wronged by your assumption.

what, did you think he ate your fish or something?

“woah!”

to prevent his nose from breaking tonight, rafayel quickly moved his head to the side to narrowly dodge the book in your hands that came flying towards his face.

that was a close one.

“let's use words, shall we?”

before you had a chance to frantically look around your bedroom for a new deadly weapon to fling at rafayel's handsome face, he had to think of something believable, and fast.

“i’m asking you one last time, where. is. my. fish?”

your eyes narrowed and your eyebrows furrowed as you glared at rafayel as an attempt to threaten him.

rafayel doesn't really have the heart to tell you that your glare was nothing more than a little fly trying to square up to a frog.

not the best comparison, but you get it.

“well, if you're looking for fifi, i’m right here.” rafayel responded as nonchalantly as he could, desperately trying to hold back his laughter.

you shot him an incredulous look, obviously doubtful with his claim of being your pet fish. rafayel felt absolutely scrutinized under your gaze while you looked at him up and down.

“do you think i’m five?”

“well, given how you spend your nights talking to a fish like it's your newfound soulmate, i wouldn't doubt it.”

man, rafayel wished he could describe how proud he felt when he saw your jaw slacken and you gawk at him with wide eyes.

it felt so good finally being able to talk back to you, and in a way that you understood him too. rafayel picks this over ‘glub! glub! glub!’ anyday.

you looked around the room cautiously, before your eyes landed back on rafayel.

no one really knew that you spent your nights telling your baby fishy little bedtime stories.

…not unless this man in your room was fifi himself. it was a secret solely kept between you and fifi.

…still, it wouldn't hurt to double check, right?

“oh yeah? tell me something about fifi then.” you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest. you still felt doubtful over this whole situation. “anything at all.”

i mean, it wasn't everyday that you got to see your fish turn into a grown man (that was also naked, you observed), now a head taller than you.

rafayel smirked at your demand. oh boy, where should he start? he had many, many juicy secrets that he could spill to you. ones that he knew were only shared between you and your beloved fishy (him) in these very four walls.

but he was determined to embarrass the hell out of you, so he was thinking what exactly was the most embarrassing moment you've ever told him.

maybe he should start with that one time you started weeping your eyes out in front of his tank because you thought he was sick and about to die since he wasn't eating the kibbles you poured into his tank? (you were overfeeding him).

or perhaps that one time you told him you accidentally broke your mom's jewellery box while trying on her earrings and blamed it all on the maid instead?

oh. he couldn't forget the countless amounts of times you fell asleep sprawled over the study table, your hair looking as neat as a bird’s nest, drool escaping from the corner of your lips and dripping onto the sleeve of your nightgown as you snored the night away.

but the most memorable one of them all was…

“...remember that time when you tried to cut a piece of strawberry cake and dump it into my tank?” rafayel questioned, a smirk appearing on his lips as his eyebrow quirked upwards, anticipating the kind of reaction you’d give.

the way your eyes widened in horror and the tips of your ears started to tint in a dark red hue was enough for rafayel to conclude that he had won this round.

“only fifi would know that…” you mumbled out in utter disbelief. was this man standing in front of you really your pet fish of three months?

“exactly.” rafayel puffed out his chest proudly at your words. “but if you’re not convinced, i can tell you about that time when you tried to bring my fishtank to your bed so you could hug me to sleep—”

oh. not that. you desperately cut rafayel off mid-sentence.

“stop! stop, stop!” your face felt hot, as if you just ran a whole marathon with no breaks in between.

there was an awkward and tense silence lingering in the air, with you looking at your pet fish dead in the eyes.

“s.. so it really is you, fifi…” you managed to mutter out, albeit still in disbelief that your pet fish was now a grown man a head taller than you.

rafayel doesn’t have it in him to break the devastating piece of news to you that his name was actually ‘rafayel’ before you came along.

“affirmative.” fifi— or, rafayel, nodded his head without a beat of hesitation.

you both then proceeded to awkwardly stare at each other without a word, waiting for each other to break the tense silence.

eventually, rafayel was the one that broke the silence.

“so…” he sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling like a fish out of the water (literally and figuratively). “has the shock died down yet?” he asked, hoping you were calm enough to have a proper conversation with him.

you blinked and glanced back at the broken fish tank a couple of times to make sure that rafayel was not some kind of crazy hallucination stemming from your lack of sleep recently.

“well, not really.”

“good enough for me.” rafayel casually bent down and picked up the weapons you used for your assassination attempt (your books and polar bear plushie), making his way to your study table to put the books back where they belong.

“i know you probably have a lot of questions, your highness,” rafayel’s gentle voice filled the room’s silence once again. “but i, too, don’t have the answers to them. i hope your highness can forgive me.”

he briefly glanced at you from his peripheral vision, a faint and apologetic smile ghosting his lips while he slotted the books back into the shelf.

you were still standing in the middle of the room, your eyes following rafayel’s figure while he was putting back your books. you still had the dumbfounded and surprised look from this whole ordeal.

when rafayel caught sight of you meekly nodding your head in silent agreement to his words, he took it as a sign to continue speaking.

“since you’re free tomorrow, how about your highness help a fishy out to find a way to turn me back?” he asked with a chuckle, making a final stop to your bed and gently placing your polar bear down by the pillows, now reunited with the rest of your fuzzy friends.

“how’d you know i’m—”

oh, that’s right. you told fifi at the start of this week that you had tomorrow to yourself. the realisation that you spent your nights practically telling this man (in his fish form) the a to z’s about your life started to settle in, coupled with embarrassment.

“oh.. right..” the corners of your lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile, trying to keep your cool despite the absurd situation unfolding before your very eyes.

“also, do you mind if i borrow a hoodie of yours or something? walking around with only a skimpy towel around my waist is a little uncomfortable.”

“ack!”

before you could protest, rafayel strutted towards your wardrobe and began rummaging through it like a stray mouse in search of a slab of cheese.

attempting to recollect your composure, you stammered out a remark in hopes to gain back some sort of control.

“h..hey! is this how you act in someone else’s bedchamber?”

rafayel halted his scavenger hunt for a brief moment.

“… i’ll remember for next time.”

…and he’s back to digging through your wardrobe for one of your oversized hoodies.

in the end, rafayel settled with one of your gray hoodies coupled with a pair of sweatpants he miraculously could fit in.

“what’s this?”

a look of confusion washed over his face as the fish stepped out of your bathroom, finally properly clothed.

his eyes were glued to the unfamiliar scene before him. a thick woven quilt was spread across the carpeted floor not far away from your bedframe, accompanied by two pillows and a neatly folded but thin blanket sitting on top of it.

“your new bed for the night.”

your response was as casual as inviting a friend over for a sleepover.

you gave his new bed a few soft pats, a gesture to coax him over, before making your way back to your own cozy haven.

“since you don’t fit in a fish tank anymore, i figured we have to come up with an alternative.”

rafayel watched as you tucked yourself into bed and fluffed up your pillows, getting ready to drift to dreamscape anytime from this point forward.

“yeah, well what if your maids see me?” his voice was full of skepticism as he approached his new bed, lifting up the blanket to fit into the warm cocoon.

“then i can tell them that you’re fifi.”

one of rafayel’s eyebrows quirked up in doubt and a hint of amusement.

“and will they buy it?”

“no.”

“…”

well, that was reassuring.

rafayel’s head was resting against the pillows now, completely unimpressed with your response while also trying to get used to sleeping outside of the water.

“well, but that’s something we’ll both deal with tomorrow.” you laughed nervously, leaning back against the plush pillows and turning your body so that you were laying on your side; facing rafayel with a faint smile ghosting your lips.

staring into your eyes like this made rafayel’s heart swell in an odd way. he didn’t know exactly how to put it to words, but the atmosphere of your bedroom felt dangerously intimate right now.

in fact, way too intimate for an owner and her pet fish to be having.

rafayel was no fool— he could tell how you seemed to be holding back more now that he had taken the form of a human. how the gaze you directed towards him still held a hint of love and affection amidst all of your other mixed emotions. you looked at him as if nothing had changed between the two of you, like he was still that tiny fish you had brought back home (kidnapped) three months ago.

“yeah… we should get some rest. we’ll be ransacking our brains a lot tomorrow.” rafayel agreed with a nod of his head, breaking eye contact first by turning his head to look up at the ceiling, trying to get rid of the dangerously growing intimacy dancing between the two of you.

his arm slid beneath his head to get into a more comfortable position for himself, still in disbelief that he was actually a human now.

he tried. keyword, tried to ignore the lingering feeling of not being able to bury his little fishy body in his favourite coral reef to fall asleep, and instead having to settle with sleeping on the cold hard ground with a paper-thin blanket that barely reached to the tip of his toes.

but in the end, the thought still greatly bothered him.

“tell me a bedtime story.”

…the words flew out of his mouth before rafayel could even comprehend what he was saying.

“i beg your pardon?” your expression morphed into one of astonishment.

“what? don’t you always go on and on about your day in front of my fishtank?” rafayel scoffed, turning his head back to face you. he had been kept awake against his will, forced to listen to your endless ramblings ever since you first kidnapped him.

he had grown so accustomed to your excited life updates that it was part of his daily routine now. rafayel always relied on your storytelling to help him get sleepy and prepare for bedtime, and he definitely wasn’t going to let this routine stop tonight just because he had grown a pair of legs out of thin air.

“… how about you tell me a bedtime story this time, fifi?”

your soft voice almost made rafayel wonder if he misheard what you had just said.

“hah, me? as if i have any tales that would fascinate you.” rafayel was quick to dismiss the idea of telling you a story.

one, bedtime storytelling was your thing. it always has been, and it always will be. as a fish, rafayel was habituated to just listening. i mean, he was a fish, there wasn’t much he could say to you in the first place. asking him for a sudden role reversal to play as the storyteller was beyond his expertise and comfort zone.

and two, his life out in the seas wasn’t as interesting or fascinating as whatever you were expecting.

or in other words, rafayel had no stories to tell in the first place.

“oh come on, i’m sure there’s some interesting stories about your life before you started living here.” you continued to persuade him further, trying to give him a metaphorical nudge to get him to open up.

rafayel really couldn’t resist when you talked to him in that soft and persuasive tone. you might as well grow a pair of fins and live in the ocean as a siren with how easily you allured him to obey your words.

“fine, fine, let me think of something,” the fish grumbled, his eyebrows furrowing together as he dug through his memories for anything worth mentioning to you.

entertaining a princess was hard work— rafayel was finally starting to understand the pressure of being in the presence of a princess like yourself. it was like there was an invisible expectation for him to uphold. one that was unspoken, but still anticipated in a way.

“does me being chased by an octopus sound entertaining enough for you, your highness?”

the way your smile grew, and your eyes held a hint of curiosity made rafayel let out a breath he didn’t even realise he had been holding.

so that was how he began telling you about the instance where he was chased by an octopus back when he was still adventuring around in the stray waters.

rafayel’s storytelling skills wasn’t top tiered as compared to yours. his story began awkward, his tone unnatural. this was not his forte, so he was basically a fish out of the water (once again, literally and figuratively).

however, the sounds of your soft giggles, hums of acknowledgement and occasional small nods of your head served to be the main catalyst for him to improve as the story progressed.

by the time the story reached its climax, he sounded more confident and sure of himself. he also was more natural when speaking and somehow, without even realising it, managed to lull you to dreamscape.

“...seriously? just as i was at the good part too.” rafayel muttered, feigning mild irritation when he saw that your eyes were closed, facial features relaxed, along with your breathing deep and slow.

rafayel let out a defeated sigh, lightly shaking his head before he turned his head to face back towards the ceiling again.

he finally understood how you always managed to fall asleep so quickly after telling him about your day— talking in such an excessive manner was… tiring. and now, he was feeling the growing fatigue about to consume him too.

he briefly snuck a glance at your sleeping form through his peripheral vision, the corners of his lips gently tugging upwards into a smile.

rafayel’s mind was tired, but his heart was filled to the brim with nothing but affection. affection that you had been showering him with for the past three months.

“no matter what form i take, you’ll still love me just the same, huh?”

he wasn't expecting an answer. he didn't need your verbal response to confirm his thoughts in the first place. the facts were as clear as day before his very eyes.

his vision was getting blurry, his breathing slowing down and his eyes feeling heavier with each blink.

rafayel vaguely remembered letting out one final whisper before everything fell to the darkness.

“…at least now i can finally tell you that i love you too, princess.”

all rights reserved © miclipse 2024. do not repost, plagiarize, copy, modify or translate my works on any platforms.

[icallhimjoey]

Prompt idea either for your current fic or a random one shot! Soft!Joey was VERY much not so soft Joey in your dream and you wake up in a STATE about it. Now real Joey needs to rectify his dream world bad behaviour. Angsty Smutty fluffy whatever you think is best.

Love your work!

me: save this for something longer also me: no the girlies need it right now Wordcount: 1.5K

---

Boy Of My Dreams

“Come here, baby.” 

Joe was there.

Right there where you'd left him, holding the covers open for you when he heard you turn off the lights in the bathroom. 

“I’m fine. Was just a dream.” you immediately said, curling back onto your spot, close to him, but your back turned.   

Joe’s eyes were still closed as his hands roamed until fingers trailed up your back to hold onto your neck. To feel some kind of closeness, the laziest way of comforting his girl after a nightmare.  

“Talk later?” 

But his question went unanswered. No confirmation, no dismissal, because either one didn’t feel right. You let the words float and hoped they would float away, real far, hoped they’d make real distance as you both fell back asleep.

Occasionally, you’d have a nightmare that would continue the story of a nightmare you’d had years earlier. A dream you couldn’t even remember, hadn’t consciously thought of since that one morning after you’d woken up from it, but somehow it still managed to store itself away inside your brain. Somewhere deep down, a place you couldn’t reach by yourself, just... lingering there for you to revisit in your sleep eventually.

It happened very rarely, but the second you’d wake up, you’d realise, fuck, this was that same fucking nightmare you had had ages ago.

When you hadn’t even known Joe yet.

Hadn’t even known of his existence, let alone would have known the lines of his face like the back of your hand.

The plush of his lips.

The scruff of his cheeks.

His chin.

The way your mind would hallucinate awful things in your sleep that would feel so vivid and so real was absolutely terrifying, but the addition of Joe’s face made everything so much worse.

Your unconscious mind could play tricks on you.

You knew this.

But in your sleepy haze, the feelings were real. The emotions right there.

And that man who’d scared you years ago in this same nightmare now wore a face that you recognised.

Logically you knew it was an addition.

Something new that hadn’t been there before.

There was no way you’d also dreamt about Joe all those other times - every person in a dream was someone you needed to have seen before, you knew.

But still.

The hand that held onto your neck was of little comfort, and you knew it was silly, but your body still flinched and moved away from the man in your bed because he didn’t feel safe right now.

You hoped Joe wouldn’t react to the quick pull away from him. To the little shimmy you did to duck into your pillow a bit more. But you felt how he raised his head off of his own, likely to see through a squinty eye if you were okay.

“I’ll have forgotten in the morning.” you quickly reassured with a whisper into the dark, and Joe decided he was too tired to get into anything right now anyway. He’d leave it to rest and hoped that you were right. That the next bit of sleep would make you forget about any horrors.

Except it didn’t.

It took you long to fall back asleep, and when you eventually did, you slipped right back into the same awful narrative.

It was why, not that long after you’d woken up that first time, you shook Joe awake. Leant over him, sort of sweaty, big wet eyes close to his face because, you just... you needed to check.

Had to see for yourself.

To see if his eyes were normal.

Joe roused awake, confused and definitely not as alert as you were.

“What?” Joe croaked, a little freaked out by the way you frowned in panic as you searched his eyes. He saw how yours flicked between his left and right.

Normal.

Joe’s eyes were their normal big brown beautiful kind soft ones. Bit tired. Definitely confused. But not the evil pitch black giant orbs you’d just dreamt of. You immediately relaxed and fell back onto your pillow, sighing with relief. This was definitely one of the weirdest most disturbing ways to be woken up before six o’clock.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, voice still just as hoarse, as he turned his head to look at you stare up at the ceiling.

Why were you panting?

“Nothing. I... don’t worry, your eyes are normal.”

Just a dream. It was just a dream. Your nervous system just had to catch up to it.

“My eyes?” Joe was so confused. What the fuck were you talking about?

“You were...” you started, but shook your head instead of finishing the sentence. It was of no use explaining. Just a silly dream. “Never mind. Just...” you looked at the ceiling and even though it was dark, the rubbing of your eyes made you see spots for a second.

Joe watched as you gathered your thoughts for a second, and worry etched deeper into his features.

“Hey,” he whispered, concern thick in his voice, a hand reaching over that placed itself on your forehead. “I was what? What did I do?”

You then turned your head to look at him, moving Joe’s hand into your hair, and you immediately felt guilty. Joe looked far too bothered for your liking.

“Scary.” you admitted, scooting over closer to him. “But you’re not scary now. Was just a dream.”

For a second, that made Joe relax a little. You weren’t talking about him him, you were talking about whatever weird version of him you’d just dreamt about. One without normal eyes, apparently.

Joe accepted you into his arms as you cuddled up to him, finding his sleep warm body to curl yourself around, seeking closeness this time around, because Joe’s eyes were normal and comforting.

He was glad it had just been a dream.

But then, Joe’s thoughts caught up, and actually, Joe didn’t like that.

Joe didn’t like that at all.

Didn’t like how you dismissed a nightmare like it hadn’t affected you when it so very clearly had.

Didn’t like how hugging you tight also meant that he could feel how fast your heart was beating.

Didn’t like how, real or not, you’d been scared of him. Had felt real fear because of him.

He’d been the boy of your nightmare, and that was not okay.

“You had a nightmare about me?” Joe almost sounded hurt, voice small and soft. Like it was his fault that you were breathing the way you were right now. Like he had personally done you a great disservice.

Which wasn’t true, obviously.

It hadn’t actually been him.

“It wasn’t you.” you comforted, pressing your face into Joe’s neck, reminding yourself just as much as you tried convincing him.

“Hm?”

“Just looked like you.”

But that didn’t make it better. Not to Joe, anyway.

The way that you went from trying for a little distance before, to suddenly hiding yourself away into his skin didn’t sit right with him either.

“You okay?” he whispered, a hand trailing up your back as he asked it, ending at your neck where he held onto it like he’d done before.

“Mhm,” you confirmed, and took a big deep breath to hopefully slow your heartbeat down a little. “Need to calm down.”

“Do you want to talk about it? What did I do to you?” Joe didn’t wait for an answer to the first question. Just wanted to know how severe his crimes had been. How big his apology needed to be. How much he needed to comfort you.

But like before, when he’d suggested to talk later, you let the questions sit where they sat, and didn’t provide them with an answer at all. Instead, you just burrowed deeper. Pressed your nose into his skin a little harder. Hitched your leg over his thighs a little higher. Squeezed yourself around his middle a bit more.

Joe decided his crimes had been very severe. Maybe even life sentence sort of stuff. He tightened his arms around your frame, the hand on your neck letting its fingers slide into your hair a little.

“I’m sorry.” Joe murmured against your forehead.

That made your eyes water.

You didn’t want to talk.

That was okay.

Just needed comforting.

“You’re okay,” Joe whispered into your hair, answering his own earlier question. He placed a little kiss there too, eyes closed, determined to make you drift off back to sleep, and it made you whine.

“You’re safe,”you deserved more sleep, but nightmareless this time. No scary eyes.

“I’m here.” Joe squeezed tigther as he felt you relax. From the way you started matching your breathing to his, he knew it was working.

You could have a nice dream about him.

He could be the boy of your dreams. Good, postive, sweet ones.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The hand that held onto your neck was actually very comforting now, and your body fully relaxed into the man in your bed because; he was right.

No one was going to hurt you.

You were safe.

Joe was there.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

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@hazelenys, @imjustjen14, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

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@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[c-m-stuff]

Wedding Ring

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are married. When you forgot to put your wedding ring back on, Spencer panicked.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, angst

-Word count: 656

-Note: It's finally summer vacation! I hope you are all enjoying the sun and this little story. Have fun! You deserve it! Also, thank you so much for 100 followers! It means a lot to me and to celebrate it, I made a summer party! Join here. :)

-Credits: @radiant-reid

-Tag list: @reid-ingandweeping

Masterlist

Spencer's POV:

Fear was the first thing I felt when I came home to my wife, noticing she wasn't wearing our wedding ring. She always wears it, so why not now? Immediately my head was spinning with thousands of thoughts. Why isn't she wearing our wedding ring? Does she want to divorce? Did I do something wrong? Fell she out of love? How long is she feeling this way? Is there-

'Spence? Are you alright?' she pulled me out of my thoughts, or rather the chaos in my head, as I looked dumbfounded at her.

'Y-yeah.' I was quick in discarding my coat and satchel, walking towards the love of my life and giving her a quick pack on the lips, before disappearing into our shared bedroom.

I wasn't ready yet to confront her, wanting to clear everything out by myself first. Maybe I did do something that upset her? Or maybe she really fell out of love? This thought made me start to panic. I don't want to lose her. I can't lose her. A single tear, escaping my eye, as I heard a soft knock on the door.

'Spence? Can I come in?' It didn't take a profiler to hear the worry in her voice.

But yet, I couldn't answer. I was too busy keeping up with my own thoughts, it was like I couldn't do something else.

'I'm coming in.' and just like she said, she opened the door.

In the meanwhile, the panic and fear had set in so fiercely, that tears were now fully streaming down my cheeks. The moment (Y/N) saw me, she ran into my arms, hugging me tightly, while drawing circles on my back, in attempt to comfort me.

'Shhh, it's okay. Everything is okay now. You're safe, I'm here.'

I kept her in my arms for a few more minutes, before my tears finally lessened. I slowly pulled away, facing her worried figure. She took my hands in hers, rubbing them softly.

'What's wrong, love?'

I no longer was able to hold myself in. I needed to know. Knowing deeply that her answer could break down my whole world.

'Do you- do you want to divorce?' she looked at me with widen eyes, filled with disbelief and shock.

'Wh-what? No, no of course not! Why in the world would you think that?' relief flooded over my body, while releasing a sigh I didn't know I was holding.

'You're not wearing your wedding ring. You always wear your wedding ring.'

'No, no, honey. You completely misunderstood. When you went to see Ethan, I decided to do something I hadn't done in a while. Painting. I took the ring off because, knowing me, I can't paint without having my hands full of it. I just didn't want it to get dirty, and forgot putting it back on.' I began to relax more, hearing now the logical explanation, while feeling a little shame for getting to such a conclusion.

'It's right-' she disappeared out of the room for a moment, returning quickly back.

'here.' she continued, holding the ring and putting it back on.

'I'm sorry, I thought that. I just panicked because you never not wear it. I'm sorry.'

'It's alright, love. Don't worry about it. You just need to remember that I love you very much and that I am still happily married.' I felt her soft lips on mine, kissing me passionately. I kissed her back, both chuckling in the process.

'I love you. You are my whole world, you know that?'

'I do.' she smiled.

'As long as you know that you are my whole universe.'

_________________________

[wildrangers]

This Town is Fake, But You're the Real Thing // Matt Smith

This is based on an anon ask from a few weeks ago requesting a story with Matt and a HOTD costar with an age gap. For context, reader is just shy of 30 to Matt's 41. It ended up being longer than expected but that's not shocking🙂

Tropes & Topics: miscommunication, mutual pining, will they/won't they, age gap, resolved angst, fluffy end

Word Count: 2.8K

You’d been dreading and anticipating this filming day for weeks now. You’d been cast as Alys in Season 2 of House of the Dragon and anxiety has been your primary emotion since you received the news. On the obvious side, the show’s massive and will ideally propel your career forward with dizzying speed after toiling away for a decade on small projects. A less obvious, more personal element of the matter is your equally long crush on Matt Smith. You’d first seen him as Doctor Who when you were a teen and you’d become madly infatuated. You nearly drove yourself mad while waiting for filming to start, trying to get your emotions under control before stepping on set. It helped and hurt that he’s such a lovely person in real life.

Within a week of signing your contract, a beautiful gift basket had arrived at your door. You’d curiously brought it inside and nearly dropped the champagne bottle when you found the note: Cheers to being scene partners soon! Can’t wait, Matt. Your first course of action was to tear into the chocolate covered strawberries and your second was to frantically call your manager to yell at her for hiding this surprise from you. You’d sent back a thank you note, which is how, somehow, you two became pen pals in the months leading up to filming. 

In your letters, you two discussed the show and your ideas for your character’s relationship dynamics all while Matt kindly provided guidance when you shared your anxieties about joining such a well-respected and beloved show. By the time you arrived on set, you felt more settled–Matt would be a professional support and colleague, your childish crush left in the past. After all, you’d had feelings for your teenage self’s idea of who Matt Smith was. This Matt is real, kind, your coworker, and 12 years your senior. 

All of this logic dissipated when you heard his painfully familiar voice calling your name across the set you were exploring before filming began. He quickly approached you, grinning broadly as he pulled you into a warm hug. You, thankfully, recovered your senses swiftly, returning his hug before somehow carrying on a normal conversation with him. Several months into filming now, that first day is a blur but you’d left a good enough first impression that you two became close throughout shooting. 

You clung to your logic, desperately fighting back the crush that was rapidly developing into actual feelings throughout this time. Your chemistry on set was palpable and mercurial but in your trailers or sharing a drink after work, your relationship was filled with laughter, stimulating conversation, and affection. You’d bonded over your love for horror movies, jokingly plotting one to star in together in the future. You respected him, this project, and yourself too much to risk all that you’d built for a relic from your teenagedom.

Or, at least that’s what you repeat in your mind as you pace nervously in your trailer, practicing your lines quietly to yourself. Today’s scene is the last for you two to shoot and it’s by far the most daunting for you mentally. Alys and Daemon have a tense relationship, clearly drawn together despite Daemon’s suspicions and Alys’ blurry intentions. This scene is the culmination of that tension and while nothing physically occurs between them, an emotional vulnerability is needed for it to be satisfying for the viewers. 

You hear a knock on your door as the PA summons you to set. You take a deep, steadying breath before following her onto the lot. Harrenhal’s lot is constantly damp and by the time you’re on the actual set, your dress is clinging uncomfortably to you. 

“There she is! How are you feeling, love?” Matt questions, squeezing your shoulders soothingly. 

“Nervous, you?” you admit and his smile turns downward.

“What’s making you nervous? How can I help?”

“It just feels like a big scene, that’s all.” 

“Darling, we’ve done so many big scenes. What else is going on?” he pushes and you sigh, nervously fidgeting with the ends of your wig. 

“I guess it’s weird this is it, you know? It’s been months of us working together and after today we’re basically done. It’s daunting, I want to make sure the relationship feels right at its conclusion for the season.”

“It will, I promise. You’re brilliant and we’ve worked so hard to cultivate this dynamic–we know exactly what to do together, yeah?”

“But do we?” you question and immediately regret it. His brows furrowed as you kick yourself for letting your confused personal feelings get in the way of the work. “Never mind, I’m just psyching myself out. You’re right, as always.”

Matt opens his mouth to reply but the director calls you to your marks and all you can do is squeeze his hand before going to your spot, closing your eyes and banishing yourself from your mind–you are Alys, he is Daemon, you two are fighting because tensions are coming to a head. 

You two do several takes but something feels off. You’re both hitting your lines and your marks but there’s something missing, which you’re obsessively trying to solve as shooting’s paused for lunch. As you finish up your smorgasbord of snacks, your favorite craft service meal, Matt approaches, his eyes focused on you. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes tunneling into yours with an intensity you’ve never seen from him off camera. 

“Of course” you reply without hesitation and he nods. 

“I’m doing a slight improv, will you follow my lead?” 

“Of course” you repeat, just as the director calls you back to set. 

Your nerves have returned but you’re eager to see Matt’s idea play out–you’ve both improved different moments over the course of filming and they often lead to your best takes. 

The director calls action and your lines repeat as they have all day long. You’re lost in the moment, noting Matt approaching you much more closely than previously. This must be it–he wants more physical tension in the scene and you kick yourself for not thinking of it yourself. Suddenly, Matt’s hands roughly grab your arms pulling your chests flush together. 

Your gasp is real, as is the way your own hands rise to grip his shoulders as he towers over you. Your Alys brain kicks in and you switch to struggling against him, eager to get away from this man who could easily overpower you. 

“Don’t leave” he breathes out quietly, a line not in the script, his eyes earnest and glossy with emotion.

“You know as well as I why I must, no matter what we may…sense in one another” you ad-lib and though it fits Alys’ intentions, your own desires easily bleed through. 

“And what is it you sense in me?” 

“Danger…lust” you sigh, eyes instinctually dropping to his mouth. Your heart’s in your throat, this is the most you two have leaned into the characters’ sexual tension. “And what do you see within me?”

“Temptation…damnation” he replies fervently. You two hold each other’s gaze and you feel your eyes growing misty as are Matt’s before you. He begins to lean in and as much as you desperately want to give in, Alys would never, so you forcefully push your hands into his chest until a few feet separate you. 

Your breathing is labored, your face feels flushed, and you nearly forget the final scripted line that concludes the scene, “I told you you’d die in this castle, Daemon…I refuse to die with you.” 

A single tear escapes Daemon’s eyes and you turn on your heels, head high as you leave the room before the director yells “Cut! Holy shit you two, thank god we had coverage on both of you. That was perfect. I’m going to call Ryan to review the changes but that was brilliant. Hang tight for a few minutes, okay?” 

You nod, dizzy with emotion. You can’t force yourself to look in Matt’s direction, the vulnerability and intensity of the scene making you feel exposed. Instead, you stumble over to craft services asking for a mug of tea to settle your nerves. You take a deep swig and feel some of the tension leave your shoulders but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to follow their lead. You hear someone approaching and know before you hear his deep voice saying your name that it’s Matt. 

“Are you okay? Was that too much?” he questions and you force yourself to turn around.

“I’m fine, it was brilliant.”

“Then why do you look so shaken?” he questions, hands going to rest on your shoulders, as they have countless times over the last few months. You find yourself stepping out of his hold, feeling too raw to stomach being touched right now. Your thoughts are racing and your heart is pounding and being this close to him is too much. 

“It was just intense, that’s all.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” he agrees, his eyes boring into your face despite your refusal to meet his gaze. You simply nod, taking another sip of tea. 

“It felt real” you breath out and immediately regret it. “Sorry, that’s silly, I didn’t mean…” you trail off, unsure how to express all that you’re thinking and feeling right now. 

“I don’t think it’s silly” he replies quietly and you shut your eyes. You have to be imagining things, he can’t possibly be admitting to feeling similarly to you; it’s impossible, for countless reasons. You’re saved from responding by the director calling you back to set and you quickly walk past Matt, mug firmly in your grip as you try to steady yourself to appear professional.

“Ryan loved it guys, that’s a wrap on Daemon and Alys at Harrenhal for season two!” he cheers and the crew bursts into claps and whistles. You force a smile and express your gratitude towards the director and crew before quickly excusing yourself to your trailer, not waiting around to see what Matt has to say to everyone. 

Your team must feel your anxious energy because they get you out of costuming, hair, and makeup in record time. You say your farewells, frantically getting into one of the waiting cars that will whisk you away to your hotel. You regret, on some level, not saying goodbye to Matt but you promise yourself you’ll text him in the morning and meet for breakfast. 

As the elevator rises you text Emma, Hey, crazy day, room service together tonight?

You toss your phone on the bed without waiting for a reply, peeling off your clothes and jumping in the shower. You just need to wash this day away. Once you feel yourself fully reinhabiting your body again, you turn off the water, dry yourself, and do your skincare before changing into sweats. A knock sounds from your door and you feel more tension leaving your body as you go to answer it, assuming you’ll find Emma on the other side. 

Your heart stutters when you’re instead met by Matt’s anxious gaze, his hands feverishly running through his hair. “Matt?” 

“You just left” he replies, voice tight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I…I was tired, I just wanted to unwind” you say, offering this half truth. His intense stare makes you fear you aren’t convincing him. 

“Can I come in, please? Just for a moment. I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong.” 

You nod shallowly, stepping to the side before closing the door behind him. An awkward silence descends and you perch nervously on the foot of your bed. Your phone buzzes beside you and you glance over to see their reply Can’t sorry, I’ve got a night shoot–tomorrow?

“Do you need to get that?” Matt’s voice draws you back to the moment in front of you and you watch as he paces the floor.

“No, Matt, but can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.” 

“I’m sorry, I just…I keep replaying that final take and what you said afterwards and how you disappeared and I can’t help but feel like I’ve crossed a line or upset you.”

“Matt, you heard the director, it was a brilliant move. It worked beautifully, why would that upset me?” 

“Because it felt real” he replies and you freeze at your own words repeated back to you. “But it couldn’t have been, could it? We were both in wigs and calling each other different names.” 

You don’t know what to say so Matt plows ahead, “Not when we’re friends and colleagues and I’m old enough to be your father.”

You're surprised by the snort that erupts from you, “Matt, that’s a little dramatic. You are not old enough to be my father for Christ’s sake.”

“Well I’m certainly too old to be your partner” he replies quietly, finally stopping his pacing with his back to you. “Far too old to kid myself into thinking you’d be interested in me that way.” 

You freeze, your breath stolen from your chest at his words. “Matt?” you question tentatively, rising to place a gentle hand on his shoulder blade but he moves from your touch. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. See? I knew this was stupid and unprofessional and putting you in an uncomfortable position and I value our friendship but still went ahead and blew it up and–”

“Matt” you say firmly and he turns at the stern tone of your voice. His eyes are sad as they meet yours and the slump of his shoulders is so un-Matt-like that it breaks your heart a little. You step forward and place your hand to his cheek, a thrill racing through you as he closes his eyes, nuzzling into your touch. You stay like that for a moment, each of you seemingly nervous to break this fragile moment. Finally, he releases a deep breath and his hands land on your hips as his eyes open again. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

“Why?” he questions, stepping closer until your bodies are flush together.

You raise your other hand, gently moving a strand of hair out of his face, “Because I’m just…me and you’re…you’re you, Matt, and you’ll realize that quickly. You’ll also realize that even though I seem to have my life together, I’m ultimately just shy of 30 and still trying to figure shit out. You’re settled, you know who you are and what you want. I can’t offer you the same in return and that’s unfair.” 

Your admission hangs in the air between you for a long moment, “But you’d want to? If I told you I’m not remotely concerned about anything you just said?” 

“I would but only if you believe me when I tell you I think what you said before is bullshit too.” 

He smiles fondly at you, his calloused thumb rising to skim your cheekbone down to your chin, before raising to faintly trace the shape of your mouth. Your heart’s in your throat as you rise on your toes slightly, offering your parted lips to him in offering. His hand curls into your hair as he painstakingly slowly joins your lips together. 

Your heart settles at the rightness of the kiss, the care with which he handles you. He allows you to lead the way, your mouths learning the feel of each other before you brush your tongue against his mouth which he gladly opens to you. As your tongues twine, you surrender to the moment, fully leaning your weight into him as you pull him as close as humanly possible. He returns your eagerness with his own and you’re pleased at the soft groan that falls from his lips into yours. When you finally pull away, he drops his forehead to yours as you catch your breaths that mingle in the air between you. 

The peaceful moment stretches onward, neither of you wanting to end it. However, your stomach finally does as it rumbles loudly causing Matt to laugh. “I always tell you, just snacking all day is not enough, darling.”

“It’s not snacking, it’s a personalized charcuterie board” you protest, chuckling at this long-standing disagreement. 

“Room service? I can’t bear the thought of not being within two feet of you the rest of the night” he says and you nod, chuckling at his admission. 

“First Omen?” you question and he scoffs, pulling you onto the bed with him as he grabs the remote.

“Absolutely not, we’re watching the original first” he insists and you hum your assent, curling into his side and you’re struck by how natural it feels. “Youth, these days” he sighs, jokingly. 

“You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you Matthew?” 

His only response is to giggle and place a soft kiss to your temple before picking up the phone to order you both a feast.

Matt taglist (message or comment to be added!): @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover @decaffeinatedparadisepost

Side note: Part Three of my ongoing Matt series is written, I'm just editing and planning what comes next before posting

[jjkeremika]

Valentine

description: AoT men and women asking you to on a valentine's date <3

pairing: Levi; Armin; Jean; Erwin; Eren & Mikasa; Historia; Zeke; Reiner x reader

Levi

Levi stood at your apartment door with flowers and concert tickets to your favorite band. He shifted his weight between his heels and toes as he nervously wondered if he should turn back before you realized he had arrived.

Two solid knocks and a light pause later, you opened the door to his stoic demeanor, his lips relaxing into a smile at the sight of you in comfy clothes. He briefly glanced down to his ratty jeans and aged leather jacket. “Hey,” he greeted after clearing his throat, regretting his appearance. He felt he should've dressed up for you.

“Levi, hey!” you returned excitedly, about to pull him in for a hug when you noticed the flowers in his hand. You didn’t comment on them. “What are you doing here? Oh! Come on in!”

You dragged him by his forearm inside, closing the door behind you. “Oh, I was just,” he said quietly, shrugging, “around. And,” Levi lifted the flowers, shifted the weight between his feet. “I saw these and thought of you.”

“Awh, Levi, they’re beautiful!” You eagerly took the flowers from him, brought them to your nose for a long sniff. “Thank you.” You hugged him with one arm before pulling away and rushing to your kitchenette. “Let me just get a vase. Make yourself comfortable as always.”

He followed you to the kitchen, stood awkwardly in the doorway and tried to not blatantly gawk at your figure as you bent over to search the cabinets for the vase.

“I, uh, also saw that Linked Horizon are coming on the fourteenth. Did you s—?”

“Oh my god, yeah!” you exclaimed, hopping up from your position in the cabinet, the ornate glass in your palms. “I saw that!” You filled the glass with water and a spoon of sugar. “But I never bought tickets and now it’s sold out.”

Levi rubbed the papery tickets against each other in his pocket. He watched as you used shears to cut the bottoms off the stems. He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket.

“Well, if you’re not busy that day…” You carefully dropped each stem in the water, rearranging the flowers and tossing the fallen leaves and petals. He stepped into the room, drawing your attention, and held the two tickets openly. “I’d like to go with you.”

Armin

Working at the library was honestly one of your favorite parts of the day. It was slow, mindless, relaxing, and quiet. The ambiance was kind, and any sour moods evaporated instantly once you entered those archaic arched doors.

Since it was a library, you didn’t really speak with your coworkers beyond necessity, but the blond boy who spent his time at the admin desk always caught your attention—and he was always already looking to you.

The two of you spoke in an unintelligible morse code, an unspoken language of wordless greetings and longing thoughts and lingering stares.

When you both started speaking, it was by bonding over a love of puzzles and logic traps. Armin and you shared stories of writing and interpreting ciphers and tricks, discussed possibilities of work-related games for entertainment.

On the twelfth, you started your shift with the return cart, and a large note in black ink stopped you from starting the task. For Y/N, please review the following, it read, proceeded by four rows each with four columns containing a decimal value and three numbers.

You recognized the decimal shorthand and spotted the books already on the return cart. You picked up the first one and reviewed the set of numbers, eventually determining it as indicators for the desired page number, line, and word.

Once you deciphered the message, you smiled and felt the warm flutter in your belly. You dragged the cart upstairs to the main entrance, stopped outside the administration room to see the familiar fluffy blond hair poking over the computer screen.

Wordlessly you entered and sauntered over to his desk, dropped the sheet of paper with the decoded message and your answer on his desk and left with a wink, leaving him with amazed wide eyes and an open jaw as you left the room.

Will you be my valentine?

—Yes x

Jean

Connie told him the traditional approach was stupid and uninteresting. “It’s y/n! They’re cool and fun and hilarious and awesome! You can’t do something unbelievably lame like you always do,” Connie had rambled in an eccentric voice that now haunted Jean’s thoughts.

“Fucking Connie,” Jean cursed to himself as he fixed his hair in the reflection of the window, trying to maintain his balance as the train rushed over unsteady tracks. He nervously glanced down at his watch, frantically grabbed the handlebar when the tram lurched to a stop.

Jean hopped off and rushed to the bar at which the two of you had decided to meet. He spotted you instantly, in the tight red fuzzy sweater vest and still perfectly fitting baggy jeans. He regretted his overly dressed up appearance with his matching suit and pink tie for somehow still lacking.

“Y/n,” Jean leisurely greeted with an eager grin and sparkling eyes, feeling his body warm up at the quick embrace you gave, “thank you for meeting me here.”

You gestured to the free seat next to you; he sat down. “Oh, Jean, it’s my pleasure,” you said with a smile, “thank you for asking me here.”

The conversation flowed naturally, and Jean felt himself warming up from your attention, the drink, or the room. He slid his jacket off and tugged on his necktie in a failed attempt to cool off.

You noticed the pink tint on his skin and the faint hitch in his breath. You noticed the awkward tugging on his necktie, that he was wearing a necktie at all. You noticed the smile he hid when you touched his arm with your long fingernails, when your thigh brushed against his.

As the night neared its end and he still hadn’t asked, the adrenaline rushed through his veins and he heard Connie’s cynical voice echo in his brain. He felt his stomach drop with each glance towards you, because he was convincing himself he couldn’t ask, couldn’t be worth more than nothing to you.

“I’d really like to see you again,” you hinted while you both stood on the pavement, “soon.” You felt the heat burning into your skull. The shocked expression on his face was tortuous. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that was too far.

Maybe it was far enough. “Y/n… would you maybe like to spend Valentine’s day with me?”

Erwin

You had visited the older instructor’s office to ask some questions on the class content, to seek some extra support on upcoming assignments.

Connie had told you Smith was the most helpful of the instructors, but you neglected to factor in the biceps the size of your head, the voice that was smooth like margarine, the eyes that stranded you alone at sea. His help was marginalized by his distracting features, by the concerned expression when he asks if you understand contrasting his brilliant smile and demeanor when you say yes.

And did it really matter if you only understood when it came from him?

His elbow bumped into yours as he leaned to the side, closer to you, to view your page. "Y/n," he started, his leg brushing against yours as he uncrossed his thighs and leaned back in the chair, the skin tingling in his touch's memory, "would it help to meet regularly?"

The question alone caught you by surprise, but paired with his heavy tone, thick with uninterpretable layers, and a curious expression with a piercing blue, watchful gaze. You barely heard him tap his foot over the blood roaring in your ears.

"We can start with an additional meeting on the..." Erwin trailed off, clicking through his online tabs to find the calendar. "The fourteenth." He punctuated his sentence with a click on the date, your eye catching the empty schedule as it appeared on the screen. He turned to you. "We can start then and take it from there."

"O-Okay," you agreed, nodding in sync with the faint throb in your pelvis as your brain reeled with the improbable. "Thank you." Your voice was quiet, and you barely heard yourself speak.

"Absolutely," he breathed out, "more than happy to help." He glanced you up and down, rested his chin between his thumb and fingers to hide his lips, his light blue eyes darkening. "I'll order us something to eat too."

Eren & Mikasa

Mikasa was scribbling your and her names in the corner of her notebook page, actively drawing the small heart around it, when Eren suddenly and loudly slid into the seat next to her, causing her to jump and draw a line through the doodle. She hid it with her palm.

Eren looked at her with a bold desperation in his eyes. “Mikasa, I’ve been thinking about asking y/n out for Valentine’s…” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the side sheepishly. “Do you have any ideas?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “O-oh,” she stuttered out, taking a half-breath to quell the unsettling feeling in her gut, “I, um.” She glanced to the palm covering the doodle. “I’ve been wondering the exact same thing actually…” She swallowed dryly. “With y/n, too…”

It’s not that she expected him to be upset, but she was surprised when his eyes lit up in a mix of excitement and relief. He perked up, straightened his spine and leaned towards Mikasa. “Let’s ask together! We can do, like, a three-person date.” He shrugged, tried to contain his eagerness. “I’m not against it. But I still have no fucking clue how to ask.”

You entered the room mid-sentence, both of their eyes focusing to you as you crossed the room to a desk. You glanced up from your phone to see both of them already looking at you, both smiling and waving immediately.

“Hey, babes,” you greeted the two of them, affectionately fixing the out-of-place strand of hair near Mikasa’s forehead. You turned to Eren and smiled wider at his eager anticipation. “I was addressing you too,” you clarified, rubbing his shoulder.

Eren leaned into your touch. “Do you have any Valentine’s plans?” Mikasa asked, playing with her pen. You spotted the heart near her hand.

You started to feel warm, flattened your lips to try to suppress the growing grin but eventually bit your bottom lip. “Not currently. Sounds like I might in a minute, though,” you responded with a wink, smiled wider at the light pink stretching across her nose.

Eren’s voice caught your attention, and you suddenly became aware of the arm he snaked around your waist under your backpack, noticed that your arm had slid along his shoulders, “Would you... want to spend it with us?” he asked nervously, before rushing out, “It doesn’t have to be a date, but, well—”

The heat settled in your stomach, and you felt your pulse in each body part. Your smile twitched at the question—at the implication.

“Yes,” you interrupted Eren’s rambling with a confident answer to a question you’ve never considered before, but now will never forget, “I’d love to spend it with you two. As a date.”

Historia

Ymir had the largest scowl on her face when Historia shyly walked over to you, a pink blush on her cheeks and a sweaty hairline. You shifted uncomfortably under Ymir’s gaze when your eyes flicked to the blonde girl standing in front of you, looking at the floor.

“Hey, y/n,” she started quietly, her cute, high-pitched voice singing in your ear, “how’s your day going?” She had a sickeningly sweet smile, one that made your stomach flip and turn with nerves. You felt your inhale cut short as she stared at you with big, rounded blue eyes.

"Good, thanks," you answered with a smile, “how’s yours?” You continued to pack your bag with your notebooks, ignoring the uncomfortable heat of Ymir’s bold glare.

“Better now,” she answered, a light rouge appearing on her cheekbones. The giddy feeling erupted in your gut and bubbled into a doey smile. “Do you have Valentine’s plans yet?”

You shook your head, tugging on the last zipper. “Nope,” you answered casually, unbothered by the notion of being single on the love holiday, “i’ll probably watch a movie at home.”

“Oh, good idea! I love movies!” Historia added, the grin taking up her face. “I..." The tips of her ears tinted pink. "I don’t have plans either." She rocked back and forth on her heels, clutched her notebook a little closer to her chest. "Would you want to watch a movie together?”

You corrected your posture and returned her soft gaze. "Yeah," you answered with an exhale, started to put your backpack on. "I'd really like that."

Zeke

Zeke haphazardly handed you the blunt, the leaflet threatening to slip from your fingertips and fall from the third story window. “Ze, careful,” you told the older man, rolling your eyes despite the smile lingering on your pursed lips, “you’re gonna’ make me drop it.”

He snorted, settling with an open mouthed smile. You watched the faint red appear around his cerulean eyes. “I can’t make you do anything.” He stretched his hand out, silently requesting the roll back.

You crossed your legs, took a long huff, then passed it over. Your fingers brushed against his, the light sensation tickling the skin for moments after. “If you hand it off wrong and I drop it, that’s your fault,” you explained simplistically, shrugging to emphasize the easiness of it all.

The smoke curled around his beard, followed the lines of the glasses resting on top of his head. He flicked the wrap, spent ash falling to the windowsill. “But I didn’t make you drop it,” Zeke retorted, blowing some residual smoke into your face. He chuckled as you closed your eyes and swatted the contaminant away.

“But you played a direct role!” You reached over and stole the blunt from him before he brought it between his lips; the blond man laughed as he let you take it, watched intently as you brought it to your own. “Wouldn’t have happened without you,” you mumbled with a long exhale, the picturesque smoke rolling off your tongue.

Zeke leaned against the wall, let his wrist rest against his knee, and tilted his head. His smile softened the longer he stared at you directing smoke and ash out the window. “I also play a direct role in asking if you want to have dinner with me on the fourteenth, but I can’t make you say yes.”

You looked out the window, suppressing the blushing grin by biting your lip. You affectionately rolled your eyes at his redirection. Not the same thing—like at all. “It’s different when you know I will,” you retorted, taking a hit and holding it until it burned, still avoiding eye contact.

“So… you will?” He eyed you carefully, handed the rest of the blunt to you and dropped his glasses onto his nose. “Say yes, I mean?” Zeke nudged your foot with his.

The roll slipped from your fingers as you focused on hiding your red cheeks and toothy grin behind your palm. “Well, obviously, yeah,” you answered sheepishly. You spotted the wrap on the wooden floor. “And see! You made me drop it!”

Reiner

You patted into the kitchen to find Reiner in front of the stove, steam rising from the pans as he shifted between items. You admired his bare back, the smooth, silky-looking skin intimately caressing tight, bulky muscles interrupted only by the thin linen apron straps.

The sudden noise of the espresso machine caused you to jump and squeal, which brought Reiner's attention to you. He hurried over, gave you a quick kiss to the cheek. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet," he murmured between more kisses, eventually pressing his lips to yours for a lingering lock.

"I can smell everything from the next room," you responded, lightly tapping his firm chest and kissing his lips again. He pulled away to attend to the aromatic contents on the stove. You sat on a bar stool. “Smells delicious, by the way.”

You saw the way his thin lips morphed into a pleased smile. “Should taste so, too,” he hummed his agreement, turned his back towards you for five more minutes. You indulged in the sight, feeling your own pupils dilate to take in more of his broad shoulders and tailored back.

Then he was making a lot of ruckus, rapidly opening drawers to find utensils and rushing to and from the fridge for toppings and ingredients. He was tossing food onto one plate and carefully aligning it on another.

You slipped off the stool to peak over, smiled at his concentrated brows and peaking tongue as he drizzled chocolate onto the dish.

You were right behind him when he turned around with the dish ostentatiously in his hands, his kind blue eyes sparkling with pride and excitement and anticipation.

You audibly gasped and brought your hands to your open smile. “Reiner! Wow!” you said astonished, hearing and feeling your stomach rumble with hunger at the sight of the heart-shaped pancakes with a chocolate lace drizzle, at the bacon and eggs and toast arranged on the side.

He waited for you to read the hidden message, the note written in jam on the toast. You giggled, took the plate from him to put on the counter, and embraced him. “I’d love to be your valentine,” you said with a long kiss.

[cher-rei]

love love loved your recent trent fic!! could you please do another trent fic where him and reader have been besties for years but trent finally got out of the (best)friend zone, they’re on their first date and he’s super nervous? and reader is like ‘bro it’s me? why are u being so weird??’ but she doesn’t get just how long he’s waited for this. it’s a cute fluffy giggly first date where they navigate the new dimension to their relationship as they go from friends to lovers. thank you!! 🫶

one at a time [ T.A.A ]

I remember when I first noticed that you liked me back [k- cigarettes after sex]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: you thought that it'd be easy leaping into a relationship with your best friend of five years, but your first official date with trent didn't go quite as planned which calls for a moment of anxious driven honesty

genre(s): new relationship, fluff with some angst

[wc: 2.05k] masterlist

notes: I had this marinating in my drafts forever, I'm so sorry anon😭😭 but I hope that you like it because I'm actually in tears help

trent knew that you weren't really a fan of restaurants, and to make you leave the house at 7 in the evening, only for it to start raining out of nowhere was an entirely different story. so why were you doing this exactly?

the two of you had just sat down at the table that trent had reserved at some fancy restaurant with a name that you didn't even want to attempt to pronounce. there was quite a bit of space between you and the other guests, seeing as it was quite reserved and you couldn't help but be grateful for the fact that your date wasn't going to be interrupted by someone asking him for a picture.

trent sat across from you in silence, the only other noise being the silent chatter from the other tables. it was unlike him to be this quiet but you were too caught up in the menu, joking about the dishes and their prices despite the simplicity of it.

you stifled a laugh at a memory, immediately wanting to tell trent but he was completely out of it. it looked as if he was holding his breath, lips pursed so tightly that they'd nearly vanished.

"dude are you okay?" you put the menu down and leant forward to get a better look at him. "you haven't said anything in like ten minutes."

he was speechless, every word lodged in his throat and he was sure that there were beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. you looked gorgeous. he couldn't even form a single coherent thought because he was absolutely memorised.

you were wearing the prettiest thin-strapped, black silk slip-on dress he'd ever seen, your bare shoulders (as crazy as it sounds) had him spiralling. it reminded him of the day he saw you in a spaghetti strap top, the comment of "you have a really nice collar bone. your shoulders too." slipping from his tongue without much thought.

that was 4 years ago, and here he was in a similar situation in a daze. as you sat across from him with such ease, your eyebrows furrowed in slight worry he couldn't help but wonder why it took him three years to accept the fact that he liked you, while it took another year to actually tell you.

what he didn't expect however was a pit of anxiety to form one month into your relationship. this was your first date as a couple and he was already blowing it— 30 minutes in and he hasn't said anything.

you on the other hand were growing more frustrated as the minutes passed. a heavy sigh left your lips, "you're not even listening are you?"

trent didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry." he swallowed hard, the realization slipping in that he was making this awkward. "I don't know what's going on with me right now."

you watched as he eased back into his chair with a hard swallow. this wasn't going to go anywhere and you could tell. you tried to blame his behaviour on work-related stress and came to the only logical conclusion at this given moment.

"this isn't going to work." trent eyes shot open in shock, afraid that you were referring to the relationship but you caught on. "I mean the date. today isn't a good day, so let's just go home okay?"

he fucked up. he could see it in the glint of anger and hurt in your eyes, a pang of guilt hit him like a truck when you stormed out before him. and the idiot that he was, only took off after you at least a minute later, only to find you angrily standing in front of the car in the rain because he had the keys.

when you both got into the car, no one said anything. the tension was thick and you felt as if you were suffocating just by being close to him and you couldn't help but want to cry. you were so uncertain about your relationship after this, especially since you liked him to the point of insanity.

your five-year friendship was something that you cherished so deeply, something that made you feel so safe and loved— yet here you were feeling like giving into your feelings was a mistake. when you first met him through a mutual friend you didn't expect the boy to become such a crucial part of your life.

the friendship started slow, but from the moment you got locked in an elevator together you found yourselves spending every waking moment of the day together. it was easy, so effortless and he was so caring and sweet that you couldn't not take a liking to him.

and when he confessed first it took you a minute to realise that he was serious your— eyes widening with an "Oh..." before he kissed you so gently that you went home that evening with the moment replaying about a thousand times.

but after a few days, something shifted. and this date only proved your suspicion right.

trent looked at you in the passenger seat, your back facing him as you stared out the window, your hair still damp. it was a risk but instead of going home like you wanted, he pulled over which raised some alarm for you.

"I'm sorry about tonight." was all trent could manage, a lump of guilt forming in his throat as he continued to watch the rain fall onto the windshield. and when you didn't answer him he felt like the earth had just swallowed him whole.

a pang of hurt washed over you at the sincerity in his tone, enough to make you sigh and turn to look at him— your lips pursed and your hand reaching out for his.

in truth, you weren't upset with him. you were just confused and so damn uncertain about everything. you were upset with the fact that he wouldn't tell you if something was bothering him, if he was uncomfortable or wanted to call it off. even if it was going to shatter your heart to pieces, he was still your best friend and mattered more than anything.

you urged him to look at you, he was hesitant at first but the look in his eyes made you melt. "talk to me." you ran your thumb over his hand, reassuring him that you weren't mad at him. "I need to know what's happening so that I don't end up storming out of this car in the rain."

it took him a moment to let out a deep breath and he shut his eyes tightly. "you."

your heart dropped to your stomach, and a hallow feeling entered your chest. "me? am I bothering you?"

when he didn't reply you gently let go of his hand but he was quick to pull it back, his eyes widened in realisation of what he said. "shit no, I don't mean that you're bothering me--" he fumbled over his words, "--I mean you are but not in the way that you think."

by now, your eyebrows were furrowed in utter confusion. you genuinely didn't know what he was trying to say, and his nervousness wasn't making you feel any better. "trent if you're going to break up with me in your car in the middle of the rain I swear to god I'm going to--"

"--I'm not breaking up with you!"

you threw your hands into the air, confused beyond recognition and slightly hurt. "then what are you doing?"

your raised tone made him groan in frustration. why couldn't he just say what he wanted to? "I don't know okay?"

your shoulders tensed up. "you don't know? are we just some big grey area now? you need to talk to me."

trent slightly shook his head, "its not that easy."

"it's not that easy?" your voice raised slightly as you repeated the question, dumbfounded. "dude it's just me. that should make it easy."

five years of friendship and now he choking up unable to talk? it's not that easy. those words rang like a funeral bell in your mind, echoing as if it were signifying your impending doom. was this it? two weeks was all it took for him to get sick of you? to make him feel uncomfortable?

trent scoffed and ran his hands over his face. and you were visibly not happy by his "amusement" to any of this. "do you find all of this funny?" you asked in genuine hurt.

he shook his head again and mumbled something under his breath. "you just called me dude."

"so? i always call you dude but that's not the issue right now."

"that's my point. this is all so casual for you, so normal and for me it's just--" just as he thought his thoughts were finally able to make any sort of sense, it got caught in his throat again.

you watched in utter shock as he groaned and tried to collect himself. this was the first time you'd seen him battle with his thoughts like this, nothing but uncertainty and frustration floating in the air but you waited for him to finish instead of interrupting.

this was new. you've had arguments before, but none of actual importance. but this— your opinions and demeanours clashing so easily made you realise that this was a completely different territory. it wasn't just petty arguments anymore and making up in five minutes, it was the need to communicate and understand each other.

your relationship held a much greater weight now and it was only the beginning.

"I've wanted this for such a long time," he spoke finally and caught your attention. his softened gaze settling on you, his best friend. "I've wanted you for such a long time and now that we're actually together it makes me nervous."

your lips parted in shock.

trent stifled an embarrassed laugh. "you make me fucking nervous. I can't believe I was able to be around you for three years while feeling like this and not mess our friendship up. I look at you and my palms begin to sweat, you laugh and my heart melts, you say my name and I feel myself blushing like a stupid kid."

oh this was not what you were expecting.

"when I look at you, I don't just see some idiot who looked at me like I was some alien when we first met— when I look at you, I see the girl who comes to all of my matches in my jersey, I see the girl who makes me want to shower her in every single bit of my love, I see the girl who makes me feel at home and loved."

by now you were crying, holding back the sobs and instead just letting the tears fall from your cheeks that trent was trying to wipe away, a smile on his face as he looked at you adoringly. like he didn't just make you think that he was going to break up with you.

oh, this was the boy you fell hopelessly in love with for sure. every single bit of him and his stupidity.

"when I look at you, I see my entire world."

you sniffled. a lot. absolutely out of control, nothing but incoherent mutters coming from your lips as trent pulled you closer to him for a hug. the tears fell helplessly into the crook of his neck where your flushed face was buried.

a teasing smile danced across his face. "why do you have to cry for everything?"

you pulled away from the hug and wiped the last of your tears and took a deep breath. you were so overwhelmed by everything that he said that you could barely think straight. "shut up, that was practically a proposal speech."

his smile only grew and he couldn't help but lean in for a small kiss, and left another one on your flushed cheeks. "we're nearly there anyway, might as well."

you hit his arm at the comment. "I hate you so much."

he caught your lips with his, a soft and meaningful kiss that left you both with an entire swarm of butterflies pounding their way out of their confinement. "well that's too bad, because I love you."

[sincerelyverena]

pls pls pls charles x short!alive!reader? established relationship, maybe just some fluffy moments between the two?

⟡⁺ THE GHOST OF YOU

tysm for the req, anon! 💞💞 ive thoroughly enjoyed my return here, n now the story is yours n i hoped u enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it <3 special shoutout to my dbd betareaders, i love and appreciate all of u sm!

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘think i like you best when you're just with me and no one else.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒you love him. and he loves you too. a story as simple as that.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐short!reader﹐alive!reader ﹐established relationship ﹐im still getting a feel for charles character so go easy on me pls ﹐havent written non-smut in a long LONG time

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @love-xoxojules﹐@immortal101 ﹐@fadedpictures91 ﹐@charles-rxwlands﹐ @kidbiscuitt @smallestgremlin

Falling in love with a ghost wasn’t on the cards for you, until you met Charles Rowland.

The supernatural had haunted you since you were a small child, being the victim of a near-death experience isn’t easy on any youngling. Especially you. The consequences of viewing these seemingly mythological creatures took years of patience and silent work to endure, more so, because nobody would ever believe you if you told them you saw ghosts. How ghastly.

And as a young child, you couldn’t imagine that decades into the future, you’d be laid between the arms of one. Two bronzed columns that supported the minuscule length of your torso. And for a ghost? Charles is oddly warm. Or maybe that’s you warming up to your idea of your body heat, marinating in the crisp sheets of your bed. A sanctuary the two of you now shared, together.

But it was nice to think that it was Charles too. He was the reason why you felt comfortable and protected after all. In a world of witchcraft, warlocks, dangers, and death Charles was your home.

A pair of bow-turned lips place themselves against your temple, assisting you in drifting out of sleep. Charles murmurs against the surface of your skin, planting scattered kisses along the top of your head in the process. ‘Dove, we’re meeting Crystal for coffee, remember?’

Charles’s gently mustered words are enough to serenade a response out of your sleepy self. You murmur incoherent words, flipping yourself over so that when you inch your eyes open, they can delight in your boyfriend’s beauty.

His ebony-clad curls are fluffed to perfection atop his head, not a hint of bed-head in sight, which you consider impressive before you remember that Charles mostly spent the night just watching you. As if nothing else in the world matters. You extend a hand to the defined curve of his jaw, practically guiding his lips toward your own. They lock together in familiarity, and nothing but pure, honeyed ecstasy buzzes throughout you. This is better than coffee, better than anything. Charles tasted like heaven, hell, and everything in between.

And as you two separated, Charles beamed down at you with something indescribable bouncing around in his whiskey eyes.  ‘I think a sleep-in wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?’ Rising to the day seems like the logical option. Something that barely crosses your mind for a second before you fall captive to those bronzed arms, weaving around the hitch of your waist. And before you know it, you discover yourself half-tossed atop the ghost you had fallen for. The tall length of his legs tangled with your own. And any responsible, adult-like thought dissolved as your lips crashed together. Something oh-so-destructible yet perfect, how could you say no?

And possibly, that perfect destruction is always the reason why you both are considered late to possibly anything imaginable. If Edwin found himself in the depths of the fiery circles of hell again, the entire group would bet that you and Charles would take an eternity to part before he’d get rescued. It’d be more beneficial for Edwin to smuggle out himself.

‘We’re going to be awfully late, angel.’

‘Maybe because you keep distracting me.’

‘Nonsense, I’m brills and can do no wrong.’

You tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror before you. You scrutinise Charles with a disbelieving gaze at his words, which shortly dissolve into nothing less than adoration. Nevertheless, you continued to feign annoyance as you combed a single hand through your hair and down your scalp. Fingers adjusting the little strands to suit your desire for tidiness. 

You abandon this aspiration, pivoting upon your heel. The mask of annoyance you pertain slips away into nothingness as a soft laugh escapes you amid your words. Facing your boyfriend, you slip a hand into his own.

‘You’re lucky that I love you.’ 

'I am so very lucky.'

Charles’ adjusted his position as he moved his lips from the curve of your forehead, toward the curve of your lips. There was something passionate about how the deep onyx of hues sparked with something even deeper. Something warm and honeyed, indescribable. And before you could even decipher what it was you could feel the honeyed taste of him upon your lips, Charles scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

His arm relented against the small of your back, even as you holler out empty threats and meaningless curses amid your laughter. This merely prompted Charles to bounce you atop his shoulder blade, a chuckle of his own heard as you huffed and puffed. Nevertheless, you would refuse to admit that the action of soft intimacy made you feel over the moon with exhilaration.

A curse of Charles’s own accompanied your laughter as he was a breath away from the side of his torso slamming into the doorway he attempted to parade you through, which frankly made you laugh harder.

‘You’re such a dick.’ You managed to wheeze out.

‘I think you may be right about that one.’

Charles’s voice sounded with a tinge of mischief, which crept, announced in his tone. You could almost hear the grin in his voice as he articulated his words, even through your limited peripheral vision as you were held captive in his arms.

‘You love it, though.’

The Charles-like cockiness your boyfriend presented caused you to blow out a breath of feigned exasperation. Yet, unbeknownst to him, the slow ghost of a smile proceeded to creep onto your lips. Especially as he continued to balance you upon the bridge of his broadened shoulder, for a hint of dramatics, of course. Because you did love it.

And as the two of you ventured toward inevitable lateness, you couldn’t help but think how you couldn’t wait to do it all again the following morning.

WORD COUNT: 973 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[janitorhutcherson]

Groceries, Taxes, & Laundry (MSchmidt Fluff)

hey guys, it's me. i'm finally back. did y'all miss me? the writing of this is a lil diff, sooooo please enjoy and lmk what you think!

content: pure fluff yall.

-----------------------------

Grocery shopping with Mike Schmidt is… special, to say the least. He absolutely despises it. The dreaded time comes around at the end of every week, your vegetables in the fridge starting to wilt, the meat from the previous trip used up, and all of your snacks have been devoured from late night munchie runs to the pantry (xoxo i love gardening!!!). He knows it has to happen. He knows you’ll wake him up early on Sunday morning like always, because apparently it’s “better to get it out of the way,” which he thinks is, well, to put it lightly, utter bullcrap.

You’ll drag him and Abby out to your local grocery store, her drowsy and jittery all at the same time with the promise of pancakes from a local diner after. Once you arrive, you’ll pull out all of the far-too-expensive reusable bags out of the trunk of Mike’s dingy car, ready to fill them with the necessities. Why get those for 3 bucks when you can get the plastic ones for free? He’ll never understand your logic, something about saving the environment, but it’s okay, he loves you enough not to complain, at least out loud.

The fluorescent lights of the room filled with half asleep employees hits Mike’s eyes like he’s looking directly into the sun. He lets out a small grumbled sigh as he takes in the scent of sterile cleaning supplies and produce mixed in one, with the strange almost play doh like smell of the bakery. Your eyes cut over to him, eyebrows raised, Abby’s hand in yours as she rubs her droopy eyes. Mike can’t help but to crack a small smirk, his lips pursed together. “What?” he’ll question innocently, letting out a small snicker as you go deeper into the dreary establishment. 

At the produce aisle, Mike shivers a little as the water from the misting sprinkler on the shelves hits his bare skin. He should’ve worn his jacket today, he usually does, and he’s regretting the one time he hasn’t. Your eyes are glancing over carrots, broccoli, cucumbers, and squash, all that are somehow both too ripe and too.. What's the word... unripe? Sure, he’ll go with that. His hand reaches out to grip yours in a gentle grasp as Abby points to a particularly fluffy bushel of broccoli. “I want that one! It looks like pretty trees,” she giggles out, finally starting to wake with the day. You let out a giggle of your own and Mike smiles because of how pretty your laugh is.

Next, you’re in the snack aisle, filling the cart with doritos, barbeque chips, pringles, salt and vinegar chips (mike gags when you eat them too close to him), peanut butter filled pretzels, whatever can go in Abby’s lunch box and whatever is tastiest. Mike insists on buying the cheap queso, his nose scrunching up at the price of the name brand one. He knows it doesn’t taste any different.

Now you’re looking at meats, finding chicken breasts and filets, steaks, pork, whatever was on your list from meal prepping. Yes, meal prepping, Mike did that now. Apparently stable people with stable lives who had stable relationships did that. He’d grown fond of sitting over a recipe book with you on Saturday nights, really, shoulder to shoulder, pressed up on the couch well after Abby had gone to bed. Something about it felt safe, a kind of domestic feeling he wasn’t used to.

You’re basically done now, and he couldn’t be more relieved as you make your way towards the dairy section. He grabs a few things, string cheese, yogurt, cream cheese, cheese slices for sandwiches for work. Oh, did he mention he works in construction now? It’s stable, makes good money, and he’s home on time to see you, to be a husband-not-yet-husband (he plans to propose soon, but that’s another story), a brother-more-like-a-father, a person with a regular schedule. He looks over at you, watching as you and Abby skim over the different selections of chocolate and strawberry milk, finally settling on a carton of strawberry. He once again scrunches his nose, smiling all at once. “Nasty,” he mumbles out. Abby playfully hits his arm and you lean in for a kiss.

Finally, thank god, you push the cart towards the bakery section, grabbing bread and a sweet treat or two for the week. Cookies, a birthday cake for no particular reason, cheese danishes, whatever his little family was feeling for the week, that’s what it’d be. This week, it was a huge box of chocolate chip cookies and some kind of cherry pastry he’d never had before. You three finally head to checkout, where everything is stuck in those stupid reusable bags and the price of everything you got feels obscenely huge for what’s in your cart, but he pays it anyway. Walking to the car, in the trunk the groceries go as you all climb in one by one, ready to head for pancakes.

As he reverses the car out of his good (only because it was so goddamn early) parking spot, he can’t help but sigh, this time with contentment as Abby rambles on about a new imaginary (hopefully) friend, your own grin wide as you ask questions, making sure she feels heard. “I love you guys, love doing things with you guys,” Mike mumbles out, reaching his hand over to your thigh as he glances back at Abby too. And it was true, he’d do anything with you two. Hell, if all his life consisted of grocery shopping, taxes, and laundry? Yeah, he’d be ok with that too.

[nelyos-right-hand]

One thing I often hear when talked about kidnap fam is that while the "and love grew between them"-thing is obviously canon, that people don't think it is as happy and harmonic as often portrayed, or even that they actually like the fluffy version more, but logically have to admit that it isn't very realistic.

But I think that's exactly the point. No, the likelihood of E&E having a healthy relationship with Mae&Mags after, well, everything is pretty low, but how likely was Beren and Luthien actually getting that Silmaril?

Tolkien loved Beren and Luthien, and not just because it was kind of the only story in the Silm with a happy ending, but also because of the odds of that happy ending. If I didn't know better, a couple infiltrating the enemy's fortress, beating him, getting away and doing all of that with nothing but the "power of love" or whatever would sound like a fanfiction to me. Maybe a well written one, but definitely a fanfiction.

But Tolkien loved this story because somehow it all worked out and that makes it incredibly beautiful.

And wouldn't it be maybe unrealistic but beautiful, if after E&E lost everything and then got KIDNAPPED, they somehow ended up having a happy childhood anyway? If they found love and happiness, by the people who did this to them no less?

Or if those bitter, broken kinslayers, after everything they've done, found some kind of happiness again, however temporary, and, for a short period of time, had the chance to relearn the meaning of mercy, innocence and forgiveness? They certainly didn't deserve it, but didn't E&E deserve a happy childhood?

I think that it makes kidnap fam even better if you think that there's just no way that ten year old children would be able to heal from that trauma and come to love those battle hardened warriors, and it almost makes me cry to think about how little Elrond and Elros didn't forget what happened, but chose to forgive it, even though kids this age shouldn't have nearly the wisdom necessary to do that.

And it becomes even more tragic if you think about how it all falls apart in the end, about how they all knew from the very beginning that this little family of theirs could never last.

So, I think that this version sounds a lot more like Tolkien then an unstable, disfunctional family with 50% love, 25% hate and 25% toxic behavior. I'm not saying that E&E didn't sometimes have conflicted feelings towards Mae&Mags or that the brothers weren't struggling with their sanity, but give this people some happiness guys.

[bring-backup-99]

Before It Gets Too Late

PAIRING: tech x fem reader

SUMMARY: You spend a fun and special day with Tech, starting with a flying lesson that takes an unexpected turn. There’re fluffy times but mostly sexy times. (I’m trying to support and comfort my Tech people during this dark period.)

WORDS COUNT: 1926

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, very spicy, porn with minimal plot, PiV, rough sex, probably bad flight mechanics

NOTES: This is installment twenty-two of my reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, but I think it’s also a nice stand-alone Tech story. Although it’s written in second person, my heroine has a very established relationship with the Batch.

Everything was going fine until a large flock of flying creatures shot out of the canopy in a wide column directly into the ship’s path. You were too close to simply fly around them, and every other usual option you could think of would leave hundreds of them dead and the ship with possible light damage.

So without a second thought, you killed the thrusters while sending the ship in a tight turn, the nose pointed at the column. A quick tap of the port thruster has you cleared of the animals, with what you hoped were minimal casualties, then you reinitialized the main thrusters and resumed your disrupted flight path.

For a full minute, there was silence to your left. Finally, “It appears that flying lessons were unnecessary.”

“That was never the question,” you hedged. “You asked if I would like you to give me lessons. You didn’t ask if I knew how to fly. I answered honestly.” And this was your third time out.

“But with a glaring omission,” Tech huffs at you.

“Don’t be angry at me. I was very curious as to how you would be as a flight instructor, and I would not have received the same response if you had known.” What you do know is that this is logic he won’t be able to argue with.

He hmphs at you again, but you can tell he’s not really upset.

“That was an interesting maneuver you performed.”

“A modified ‘Tech turn.’ Seemed like the best option for minimizing death and destruction.” You pause for a moment, then you look at him. “It can’t be, right? The ‘Tech turn’…” You trail off as you see the corners of his lips turn up to an actual smile.

“That is not what it is called.”

“I’m going to fuck your so hard as soon as we land.”

“I was contemplating something similar.”

He doesn’t take the controls from you, but you sit quietly for a while.

“I’m not great at mechanics. You could teach me that?” you offer.

“Specifically define ‘not great’,” he asks.

“I definitely couldn’t fully repair this ship, but I am unable to give you a rundown of which systems I am deficient in. That’s the best I can do.”

“That…is acceptable.”

*

Almost as soon as the ship touches down in the tree-lined clearing, you are on each other. He lets you push him back down in his pilot’s chair, straddling him while your lips devour his with kisses. You groan in frustration as you try to divest him of his various layers of clothing, but you’re too eager and your fingers can’t find all the buckles and straps.

Want. Need. They course through you. You need his skin against yours. Finally, he takes pity, gently stops your fumbling, and slowly removes all the items covering his torso, your desperate whimpering doing nothing to hurry him. Then he lifts off your shirt. Your bodies crash together again. He kisses along your neck, down to your breasts, cupping them, licking your nipples. You throw your head back and cry out, your hands stroking over his head and neck; then fingernails scrape down his back, feeling his taut muscles.

“Against the wall,” you groan. Moments later, you’re both naked, and your back is to the one bare metal plate in the cockpit. Tech drops to a knee in front of you, places your leg over his arm, and targets your clit in a focused and aggressive attack.

“Fuck! FUCK!” you scream as, mere minutes later, you come. And then he lifts you, burying himself deep inside you, pounding into you, your pussy still twitching in pleasure.

Every rough, hard thrust is accompanied by his grunts, and you loudly proclaim your satisfaction, your voice echoing through the ship. You want Tech to do this, need him to do this, to take his pleasure from your willing body. He captures your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, his other hand gripping your ass, fingers pressed into your flesh, pinching, bruising. He kisses you, mauling your lips, and when he breaks away, you sink your teeth into his shoulder.

He gasps, releasing your wrists, and takes a strong hold of your ass and thighs, angling you for deeper, feral thrusts. Your arms encircle his neck and shoulders. You want him like this, desperate for you, as if no one else could give this to him. An animalistic groan emanates from him as his cock ravages you until finally a full throated cry signals his climax and he holds himself deep inside of you, and you feel his hot cum pump into you.

Neither of you move, the only sounds your gasping breaths as you each try to take in enough air.

“Mmmm,” you finally manage. “That was excellent.” You smile, then lick a drop of sweat from his neck.

“Yes,” he says, a slight gleam in his eye, “Quite satisfactory.”

* You lie in a bunk together, your head on his shoulder, a hand idly stroking his chest.

“Why did you not disclose to me that you did not need flying lessons? Your skill level is clearly quite adequate.”

You suck in your breath. I wanted to spend time with you outside of my bedroom. I wanted to know who you are when we’re not fucking. I wanted to be on this ship with you when you could be focussed on me. I wanted… So many wants, as if you can’t be happy with what you have.

“It’s been a long time since I flew. I wasn’t sure that I didn’t need them…at least as a refresher.” You hesitate. “Are you angry at me?...slightly perturbed?

“I am not. And at least they were not a waste of time.” His fingers run up and down your arm.

“No,” you agree.

Tech looks down at you, watching your hand move along his skin. You have not asked him why he offered to teach you, which is for the best. Tech is worse at articulating his wants than you are.

*

You wake up alone in the bunk. It’s been awhile since the person you’d fallen asleep with wasn’t still beside you. The ship is dark, so it must be night. You get up, the floor cold under your feet, expecting to find Tech in the cockpit.

Instead, a drop-ladder is down from the midship overhead storage space.

“Tech?” You call up.

“Ah, you are awake,” you hear him say. “I was just coming down to collect you. Come up here.”

“Um, I’m naked?” You look around for your clothing and see nothing.

There’s a long pause. “It appears that I am nude as well…I do have blankets.”

You sigh and tentatively climb the ladder, then follow Tech’s voice to a maintenance hatch with another ladder that lets you out onto the ship’s fuselage. He takes your hand and leads you to where he’s laid out a large blanket over the cockpit. You feel awkward even though the warm night air is quite pleasant on your skin.

“What’s this all about?”

Tech helps you down onto the blanket, then points up. “The moons have just set, so we should have quite an excellent view of the Quadrillen meteor shower. I believe you expressed dissatisfaction with your ability to see this from the city.”

You look up and, after a few moments, you watch a meteor blaze across the sky. You hadn’t mentioned that you wanted to watch this to Tech. You and Crosshair had been discussing it. You hadn’t realized Tech was paying attention. You lie next to each other, mostly in silence, watching the light show.

“I must admit, I was skeptical at first, but this is quite a pleasant experience.”

“Skeptical? Why?”

“I have seen many natural phenomena during my travels in space. I did not think that the debris from a comet entering a planet's atmosphere would be particularly visually stimulating in comparison to what I have witnessed. But taken as a whole, this is quite an excellent experience.”

You laugh. “I suppose.” Smiling, you continue to watch as the little streaks fill the night, when suddenly three meteors scorch their way across the sky. You sit up excitedly and point. “That was amazing.” You look down at Tech. He has a slight smile on his face, then he pushes himself up and presses his lips to yours. His arms gather your body to him, one hand stroking in your hair, one at the small of your back. He takes your breath away with his kiss, drawing you down onto him.

This feels insane. Are you really going to fuck on top of the ship under the night sky? Turns out, yes, yes, you are.

You lie on him, enjoying the feel of his hot skin along your body. You kiss for a long time, until you can’t take it anymore, and whisper, “I need you. Please.” He helps you slide onto him, both of you gasping. You whimper; you’re a little sore but the sensation is too sweet. You lean forward, pressed chest to chest, as he pivots his hip to help you fuck him gently.

And when he carefully rolls you both so you can watch over his shoulder as the stars cascade out of the sky, you can’t help but think that this is all a little too ridiculous. He moves above you, long strokes that make your breath catch, and you cry out because sometimes he fits inside you perfectly.

You wrap your legs around him. “Yes, I like that. It feels so good. Just like that, Tech. Mmmm, just like that.”

Stars keep falling as he takes hold of your legs, angling you so his cock can thrust deeper. Your cries sound small as the trees surrounding you consume them.

You move together, one being working toward the same goal. Each stroke sends shivers through you until you feel your body full with warmth as a soft climax overtakes you, not nearly as intense as the one earlier, but somehow more satisfying.

He holds your hands, fingers intertwined, as he watches your face while the orgasm washes over you, drinking in those little noises you make that he so enjoys. He moves carefully as you finish, knowing you must be sore already, wanting you to still find pleasure as he nears his own climax.

And then you start whispering to him, “Come in me, Tech. I need to feel you inside me. I need it. I need you to come for me.” You move under him, insistent, demanding, so he has to surrender to you. He stiffens and gasps, his hot cum emptying in you. You wrap yourself around him as he collapses onto you, finally spent. You watch as the stars continue to fall through the blackness of the sky.

“We shouldn’t fall asleep up here.”

“Yes, that would be unwise.” He gingerly lifts himself off you. You roll and lie on his shoulder, watching the stars fall behind the trees. The air is cooling and you shiver. “Let us go back inside. You can continue watching from the cockpit, if you wish.”

“Tech.” He looks at you, while collecting the blankets. I wanted to spend more time with you, that’s why I lied.

“Thank you for tonight.” This was really special to me. I hope it was to you.

“Yes, this was very enjoyable.” He watches you as you climb down the hatch. I wish to do this again.

* But wait, there’s more:

The rest of the series can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky

[seulgiwifeee]

craving irene fluff where she gets mad at you for switching your fabric softener because she loved the smell of your original one (cuz yk the girl knows her scents)

ugh just the idea of irene being so cute is bugging me

♡ Member: Irene x Femreader

♡ Theme: Fluff

♡ Warnings: None

Word count: 1.8k

তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Irene happily arrived at your apartment complex early that Friday morning, coming over as quickly as she possibly could, not wanting to spare any more seconds that she could've been using to spend with you—the girl who she loved the most in the whole world!

"Princesss!" you yelled out gleefully, definitely loud enough to have pissed off your sleeping neighbors, as you stood highly on your patio, leaning over the railing and frantically waved down at the approaching Irene. Irene heard your calls and looked up, her eyes lighting up in an instant once she spotted you up there and flailed her arms while wildly hopping all around childishly as she cheered out your name.

A smile never left her face, her contagious laughter echoing throughout the complex when she jogged up those two-story stairs like nothing within a matter of seconds. The moment she turned to corner to your apartment number, just barely a few feet from your door, you ran up to her, immediately greeting the small girl in with your strong embrace.

Irene hugged you back just as tight, snuggling her head deeply into the coziness of your fluffy sweater—the one you had purposefully slipped on last minute while you were in the middle of folding laundry, remembering it was one of her favorite items of yours when spotting it out in the clutter of clothes.

This was one of your very few free weekends rather than your usual hectic schedule—no work, classes, or special events you needed to go to—so of course the only logical thing you had to do was invite your girl to stay over for the weekend!

You and Irene were, unfortunately, dating long distance due to studying at different colleges that were hours away from each other, so that meant you two normally didn't get to see each other in person for any more than two times, if a miracle struck you, maybe three times, every two weeks, and for this particular time, the last she'd seen you was close to around four weeks, almost a month! So there wasn't a thing that could describe how happy you two were to finally be in each other's arms again.

"I've missed you so much, Y/N, you don't understand! I think I was actually about to go insane if I wasn't able to see you anytime sooner!" Irene stressed to you, her voice growing muffled speaking into your chest and dug her newly manicured nails into your lower back as she held on to you tighter. You chuckled, smiling warmly looking down at her and ran your fingers through the silkiness of her dark hair. "I've missed you so much too!"

Irene lifted her head back, gazing up at you with those pretty doll-like brown eyes and shone her signature half-toothy smile, but all of a sudden, her once soft expression contorted into a grimace, frowning and flaring her nostrils up at you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, also frowning at the girl. "What's wrong?"

Irene continued to flare her nose, leaning her head back into you and sniffing at your sweater. "Nothing."

"Are you sure? Do I smell bad or something?" you asked teasingly, though quickly reconsidered your question the longer it took her to deny it. "No.." Irene trailed off, not sounding convincing in any way, and slowly backed away from you, reaching down to pick up her bag.

"Alright then.." You tilted your head at her with a confused smile, looking side to side unsurely while scratching your neck, now feeling the abrupt change of atmosphere weigh down on you.

"I'm just going to put my stuff up now," Irene said and began to walk away down the hall, but you were quick to stop her. "No! I got it, let me do it for you, your highness!" You grabbed her duffel bag and gestured your hand towards the living room. "Please, sit! And when I come back I'll make you lunch."

"Okay," Irene smiled. "But just know I'm going to be making it."

Your lips pursed, pausing in your tracks and turned over to face her again. "But you cook each time you're here, though! Just let me do it!" you whined, but Irene shook her head, continuing to go back and forth with you until she got her final ‘no’ out. "I said NO!"

"Okay fine, sheesh! But seriously next time you're going to let me cook for you," you said finally in defeat, knowing you weren't going to win this dispute and walked into your room while Irene smirked widely at you from the couch, trying to hold in a giggle. "I can't promise that."

You brushed her off with a hidden smile, knowing it was all just out of love since you knew that one of her many love languages was cooking for you, and entered your room, unzipping her bag and laid out her clothes. Some relaxing music that was playing on your speaker beforehand continued to run as you organized her items with a peaceful mind, sitting without a thought or worry until..

"—Y/N-AHH!" Your eyes went wide and you jumped, startled from hearing the screeching voice of Irene shouting demandingly through the closed door, dragging out your name in her oh-too-familiar whiny voice. Just by that tone you already knew she found something to be upset at you with, so you quickly stopped your actions and hurried up out of your room, running to the living room where you had expected her to be, though was met with no sign of her presence.

You curled your expression, turning your head towards a door leading to a room that you knew wasn't opened before—the laundry room. Taking that as an obvious sign, you quickly ran over there and flung open the cracked door, instantly locking your eyes on Irene's crotched-down figure sitting in front of the dryer messing with your clean laundry, a shirt held in each of her hands while she deeply sniffed at one of them.

Your brain didn't even get a chance to question the sight in front of you because within seconds of you being upon the doorway—once she had turned around after hearing the footsteps of you nearing the room—she gave you no time to think, charging towards you with heavy steps and shoved the warm t-shirt right into your face. "What is this?!"

You stumbled back, blindly taking hold of the shirt and removed it from your face. You narrowed your eyes down, scanning over the print on the graphic tee and shook your head slow and unsurely, furrowing your eyebrows even more in confusion as you wondered why your lover was so worked up. "A.. t-shirt?.." you muttered, not exactly sure as to what other answer Irene was expecting to hear.

Irene sharply rolled her eyes, snatching the shirt from you and forced it back deeper into your face, slightly suffocating you with the soft cotton. "Not that! The smell! What's with the smell?!" Irene demanded, placing her hands on her hips and speedily tapped her foot on the marble floor.

When she was forcing the shirt in your face, you were given no choice but to smell it as you aired in a dramatic inhale trying to gasp out for air, letting the pungent scent of sweet roses flow throughout your mouth and nose. The shirt fell onto the floor and instead of picking it up, you left it there, shooting Irene a look with so much confusion; it was literally the definition of what a series of question marks would look like if it was put into a facial expression. "What do you mean, baby?! It doesn't smell bad..or at least not to me.. it's just roses. You don't like roses now?"

"Not when they replace the lavender scent you always have! You knew that was my favorite scent! Why would you get rid of it?!" Irene pouted, crossing her arms and turned her back to you with a tiny "hmph," too upset to look even at you.

A few seconds went by and suddenly the static in your brain cleared up once everything clicked to you, realizing all of this attitude and bickering was only because you for once decided to be different and changed up your fabric softener; which you, by the way, weren't even planning on doing in the first place, but since the store was sold out of your usual scent, which wasn't a big deal for you, you just simply bought the next container your eyes spotted. You didn't even think she was going to notice something as little as that! But you should've known better than to underestimate the Bae Joohyun.

You couldn't even take her anger seriously anymore, chortling a loud cackle at her bratty attitude and threw your shirt into the laundry basket. Looking at an angry Irene is like someone drawing slanted eyebrows on a bunny, it only made her cuter.

You crept up a few steps behind Irene, snaking your arms around your girlfriend's waist and pulled her into your chest. "Joohyun, seriously?" you snickered into her ear, "are you seriously this mad that I changed up my laundry detergent to another stupid scent?"

"It's not stupid!" Irene retorted, keeping her chin up high, "How am I supposed to cuddle with you at night if can't even seek comfort in the thing that makes me smile, brings me joy, helps put me to sleep! I can't, Y/N. You know, this is really serious for me."

You laughed some more, your body ticked from her cuteness and rolled your eyes with a smile while Irene only frowned deeper at you. "Oh, Joohyun. You really are something.." you sighed, shaking your head and leaned your face into her neck.

"Do you want me to rebuy that scent? Will that cheer you up?"

Irene's eyes flashed open. "What kind of question is that?! Obviously!" Irene turned around and took a hold of your wrist, dragging you two out of the room, towards the front door. "Matter of fact, we're getting it right now," Irene insisted with every bit of determination and seriousness, not caring one bit that you were still in your house clothes.

But you didn't care either, as long as you were going to make Irene happy in the end. You'll do anything to please your princess, even when it's for things as petty as this.. "Right now?" you asked with a sigh and Irene nodded firmly, squeezing onto your wrist tighter and used her other hand to grab her keys from the counter as she walked by.

You sucked your teeth, looking up and biting back a smile once the winter breeze swirled past you as you felt yourself continuing to get dragged out of the apartment. "Alright, princess."

I kinda don't like how I wrote this :(.. but I hope this was cute and funny enough for you,, also can you guys tell that I love writing the princess pet name? hehe

— Seulgiwifee ໒꒰ྀི♡˵ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀི১

[pink-onyx-au]

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Nap time! Thank you everyone for your continued support and interaction! I adore it and it adds so much more to the AU than you could know. This is a heads up on some minor down-time for the blog while I rest up and prepare the next episode.

Notes and asks are still open and encouraged during this time! Bored and want to chat? Send me a message!

To see some WIP, storyboard previews, doodles, shitposts, and other projects I’m working on, along with a healthy amount of 3am memes, head over to my trash fire blog, Ceephor’s Shit Show. The "pink onyx au" tag will filter everything for you, along with showing you fabulous fan art made by others that I just love to pieces.

Speculation and theories are encouraged! The comic is designed as close to the show’s logic as I could muster, which means many secrets are staring right at you, provided you know what to look for! Just be kind to one another.

Comic FAQ:

What is this?

Pink Onyx AU is a Steven Universe AU focused on interactions between Steven and Jasper and is intended to be read after you have finished Steven Universe Future, as it contains many many spoilers for the series. If you have watched it already, great! Welcome! The goal is to bring you a Jasper redemption arc that we couldn’t get due to time and cooperate restraints on the Crewniverse. I hope you enjoy!

I do not own these characters or their likenesses except for the single fluffy thembo fusion I created for the story. This is just a fan comic.

Comic is PG-13 for some angsty/touchy themes, minor blood, violence, and gem-cussing. Touchy-subjects will always be in a cartoon-ish metaphorical representation you would likely find on TV and be available for multiple interpretations.

When do you post?

Typically when you see this post pinned, I’m on a bit of a break, but when Nyx wakes up (this post goes away) the comic is due to be released 1 page at a time at 7am EST most days. I try for a daily release. Sometimes I skip a day if I’m behind. Episode release dates are always announced ahead of time by a few weeks.

Is this a romantic ship AU between Jasper and Steven?

Nope, more like an aunt and her nephew trying to figure it all out. No romance between these two here.

Is your Tapas updated at the same time?

Nope, tumblr comes first, and the tumblr will always have bonus content which Tapas will not. The Tapas for this updates after the tumblr version is completed. Usually same day or within a day.

Do you have a reference for Onyx? Sure do!

How do I use the ask system for this blog?

You can leave a message, or even an object, for the characters to interact with. The asks you leave can be answered by myself, Onyx, Steven or Jasper within the realm of this AU. Your asks will have no effect on the comic story. Think of it like the actors are in their dressing rooms and you get to give them a poke while they take a break! As the comic story progresses, their replies to your answers may change! Their responses will be in-character depending on where in the story we are.

My note by the den (an ask) was never answered. How come?

Lots and lots of asks come in every day. I wish I could answer them all! Since I draw something to go with most answers, especially the character ones, they do take a bit of time. Sometimes, I get duplicates of the same ask, or an ask that may refer to something that spoils the story if I answer it. I might hang onto those asks for a later time! Or group them into categories to answer all at once. I hoard asks for 1 year in an attempt to get to them. If I missed yours, know I tried and I love them anyway! I hope it does not discourage you in the future.

Curious about the characters? Check below the cut for more a detailed FAQ about the inner workings of the story. Love you all! See you soon! 🧡💕❤️

FAQ’s about the characters generated via interactive asks:

What kind of fusion is Pink Onyx? Are they good or bad? Pink Onyx is a fusion of a protagonist and an antagonist, so their alliance is yet unknown, but they have Steven’s good heart and Jasper’s loyal nature. They also have Steven and Jasper’s flaws, so they can be volatile and emotionally explosive at times, too.

What are Pink Onyx’s pronouns? Onyx likes they/them, but also answers to he/him and she/her, especially when Steven or Jasper is dominant over one another. They also seem to take on a fluid role and prefer a she/her when in a caretaker status. They dislike it/its.

What does Pink Onyx sound like? Personally, I hear them as a youthful, masculine tone. Like Steven if a little older. But I also enjoy when people say they hear them as a gruff, Amazonian-type feminine. I enjoy and endorse both.

Do Jasper and Steven enjoy being fused to one another? For now, it is a struggle, but they enjoy what the other brings to the fusion even if they won’t say it.

Does Pink Onyx need to eat and do human things? If so, do they enjoy it? They don’t need to do them, but they do feel the discomfort without them. Things like breathing, eating, and sleeping are optional for Onyx, but they will become quite irritable if not allowed to do them. They greatly enjoy sleeping and trying new foods.

What does Jasper think about having human organs when fused? She’s pretty grossed out by the idea of organic matter going into her mouth and coming out of other places. The heart beating and lungs breathing she can feel for the first time, and it is highly strange for her to experience.

What is Pink Onyx’s favorite food? They adore anything watermelon flavored and Cookie-cat ice cream products

Does Pink Onyx have any special fusion powers? They do, and as they learn about themselves, more powers seem to come out. Each of their base component appears to be enhanced in a unique way. They have Pink Diamond at their core, so the destructive potential is also there.

Why is Steven hiding Pink Onyx from others? This AU occurs directly after the events of "I Am My Monster", so Steven is very emotionally, and mentally, raw. He fears judgement for running back to Jasper, who in the past, was part of so much trauma he already endured.

Pink Onyx seems to know nothing about human culture and gem culture despite being a fusion. What’s going on? Jasper and Steven agreed to fuse, but they have yet to open up to one another about much else. The fusion exists because they agree to do so, but Jasper won’t open up about her emotions, and Steven is so sensitive yet that he is not sharing because he knows Jasper won’t want to hear it. This causes Onyx to be unable to access both of their memories easily, but they can bring it out with enough effort.

[spotsupstuff]

(hii Spot been awhile) Something I think that's interesting about the observation about how Slugcats are getting so much attention nowadays is that its almost a 180 from how things were in the pre-downpour days, iirc.

Though I am glad we're getting an AU like yours it's so interesting compared to the usual

Im eating with a fork

Yeah, the fandom was not particularly strong back then, but I think there was more Iterator content. My suspicion as to why slugcats are so much more popular now is because the general "cat appeal"*. Downpour brought in wider audience which mostly consists of people that go wild over cat videos on the internet.

Not my intention to throw shade on it, because after all what does my opinion matter to anyone, but I find the whole "cuteness cult" of the internet annoying and, when applied to Rain World, frustrating. There's a whole silent worldbuilding in basically every screen of the game and the only thing that people seem to take away post-DP is "cute sluggy go wooo :3 the Ancients were such cultist pricks Dx". Which like alright, but expand a little on the latter please? Try? There is So much fun to it when one moves past the "religion only BAD" mindset.

DP also I think didn't care much about the Ancients and the culture they left behind (and therefore the root of Iterators). "But there's Saint!" Saint is almost everything new that wasn't heard of before, can be taken as another fact of monstroid mad religion and, of course, it Has to be wrapped in a fluffy cat package. The undergrowth Echo also feels like a spit in the face to the lore/religion than an addition, to me. My *guess* would be the original intention was showing an individual who failed to ascend because of the Fifth Hindrance but it doesn't *feel* like it. If that was the intention, I think the author didn't understand why a desire to live/survive could ever, in any form, be bad

It's interesting as well in the sense that when there was only Survivor, maybe up to Hunter- the slugcats felt like a vehicle that brings the player to the story. The player saw the world through their eyes and got to experience the world's rules, abiding them- the original campaigns were still subject to the lore/religion of the world.

DP made the slugcats characters, the main focus, in some cases a rebelion against the lore/religion (forever beef against new route for Survivor and Monk). So people had an easier time latching onto them.

That is my theory at least. Fact is also when I first watched RW I almost didn't get into it as a creator because I felt like I had nowhere to hook to and work with. Characters are great anchor points for people to latch on to and then work with/through, so it's not like I blame the fandom for quite literally getting slug infested. It's natural and logical and I'm well aware of it as someone who's trying to be a writer. Still frustrating.

Either way, at least there's a vacuum for me to fill with something I'm actively actually passionate about. It's kind of a sweet bonus that people are somewhat interested, too.