#one thing I had in mind the entire time was her silhouette

[shortcakelils]

Charlie Morningstar Redesign !!

[arolesbianism]

I may be failing my plan to not make any isat aus. So there's this guy her name is Euphrasie right. What if I took her and combined what could be 3 separate au concepts into one. And in the process forced myself to go back and reread a bunch of shit to make sure I know how to maximally fuck over this sad wet puppy of a woman

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2024 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[selene-writes]

You-Me-Us

AHHHH Hey guys! There's lots of Logan craze on here thought I would try writing. Should this be a series? Its short and there's lot of places to go from here.

You had known Logan for fifteen years—technically, that had been your entire life, or at least as much of it as you could remember. Your earliest memory was of his face peering down at you with a mixture of concern and relief. You were in some sort of ruined laboratory, your body aching with a pain you couldn’t fully comprehend. You didn’t even know your own name at the time. Instead, you went by Artemis, a name you had chosen for yourself, though Logan often called you "bub."

Like Logan, you were a mutant, endowed with the gift of regeneration. This ability made it impossible to determine your exact age. In addition to your regenerative powers, you possessed the unique ability to manipulate atoms. This rare skill granted you control over all elements, a power that made you incredibly unique and powerful.

You had both decided to stick together, united in your quest to uncover the truth about who you were and why you had ended up there. It was evident that something significant had happened to both of you, something that had rendered you both invincible. Despite the mysteries that surrounded your origins, the bond between you and Logan only grew throughout time.

As time passed, the nature of your relationship evolved in ways neither of you had anticipated. Somehow, amidst the chaos and the search for answers, you had found yourselves tumbling into bed with each other. While the physical connection had become a part of your lives, nothing had fundamentally changed, and you never talked about it.

Even as you navigated your complicated relationship, your focus remained on the shared mission: to piece together the truth about your past and understand the full extent of your powers. 

Everything happened so quickly. You and Logan were in the middle of your usual routine—hitting various bars and grifting people for money. It was a familiar pattern, one that had become almost comforting in its predictability. But that night, things took an unexpected turn.

A teenager—no older than seventeen—had sneaked into the back of your car. Her name was Rogue, and despite your initial reluctance, you and Logan ended up arguing about what to do with her. Logan, ever the soft-hearted one despite his gruff exterior, eventually agreed to give her a ride, though it was clear he would have done so regardless of your persuasion.

The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Out of nowhere—a caveman-like brute—attacked you. Logan was momentarily knocked out in the chaos, leaving you and Rogue vulnerable. The man’s strength was overwhelming, and before you could react, he hurled you against a tree. The impact was brutal, and you felt a jarring “crack” as your head struck the trunk.

You crumpled to the ground, falling into the snow. As the world around you dimmed, the last thing you saw was the silhouettes of the figures moving closer, their shapes growing more defined against the stark whiteness of the snow.

You woke with a groan, sitting up abruptly as if propelled by instinct. Your body felt as good as new, fully healed from the earlier impact. Instinctively, you scanned your surroundings, your mind racing with concern for Logan and his whereabouts.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you noticed a bald man sitting in a wheelchair across the room. Despite his lack of visible movement, his voice seemed to come from all around you, resonating in your mind as much as your ears.

“There is no need to panic,” he said, his lips remaining still, not in sync with his words.

You tensed, on high alert. “How are you doing that?” you demanded, your voice edged with suspicion.

The bald man responded aloud this time, “How do we do anything? We’re mutants.”

Your frustration boiled over. “Where am I? Where is Logan?”

The man’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “He is safe… you both are.” He began to wheel closer; his movements deliberate and smooth. “As for where you are… You are at my academy, where we help those like you. You are with… the X-Men.”

[ghostboneswrites2]

hiii! I just wanted to say I absolutely love your fics, you write Daryl so accurate and well 😊 beautiful reads all throughout your page!!

I was wondering if you could write something where daryl comes to like the reader eventually (fem!reader), and she’s shy, keeps her distance, and only is spoke when spoken to, a little like Daryl himself! he then goes to her home to ask her about what stock is needed for foods or something idk haha (Alexandria era) and sees her masturbating through the window, calling out his name, obviously he had no idea she even liked him as she keeps herself to herself. so he joins her, and guides her through it 😉

I hope this is okay to work with if you wanted to use it! Have a great day 🤎🙏🏽

A spider fell on me while I was writing this :') and thank you so much for your compliments they mean the world!!!

Note: OOOOOO SPICYYYYYY 

Don't Stutter

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, graphic depictions of masturbation and smut, fingering

No summary needed, request says it all :)

**NSFW GIF BELOW CUT**

        He watched from a distance as you strolled through the streets of the peaceful community. Not a single incident in months, how about that? It was nice to relax for a while.

        Deanna had put a halt on recruiting for a while, after the attack by the Wolves, so Daryl had kind of been twiddling his thumbs, begging for an excuse to leave beyond the walls. He felt so closed up.

        He had too much time on his hands, too much room in his brain for thoughts and feelings. He didn't like it. Ever since he stopped going out, he crossed your path often. You were quiet, shy even. You rarely spoke up unless spoken to. You didn't make eye contact often, if at all. But most of all, you were beautiful. From your head to your toes. He'd often find himself admiring your (hair length) (hair color) hair. It framed your face perfectly. When the sun would shine just right, your (skin tone) skin would glow in ways he hadn't noticed before.

        Your body was something else entirely. The shape of you drove him nuts. The way your ass swayed when you walked. You didn't even have to try, you were effortlessly seductive.

        He gulped as you walked up your steps and went inside. He wondered how hard it would be to initiate a conversation, to get to know you. He shook his head. Surely that was a foolish idea. As a whole, he had bigger things he needed to be worried about. So, surely asking you about something important would be harmless, right?

        You worked at the pantry with Olivia, who had mentioned to him recently that they'd need to stock up soon. He decided to ask you to make him a list. Then, he'd get to talk to you, and he'd have an excuse to go on a run. Two birds, one stone, right? Right. He sucked in a breath of confidence and strode to your door. He went to knock but his fist stopped just centimeters from the door.

        "Oh.." He heard you whine. Were you crying? He tried to peek through the tall slender windows on either side of your door. The glass was lightly frosted, so the image was blurry, but he could make out a silhouette on the couch.

        "Daryl.." You moaned out louder. His heart stopped. His neck and ears heated ashe gulped. Were you...?

----

        You stared at the sidewalk as you walked home from work. You couldn't get the image out of your mind. Daryl was there earlier, rearranging shelves for you and Olivia. In his tight black button up shirt, his muscles bulged against the fabric, aching to bust out. Or, maybe you were just aching to bust them out. Either way, your lustful mind couldn't get enough. The visual was painted vividly in your mind's eye, and you'd be storing it permanently in your vault of lewd thoughts about the quiet archer.

        The entire rest of your shift was spent silently fantasizing about all the ways you'd let him use and abuse you, if only he wanted anything to do with you. You'd never even spoken to him, beyond a quiet and polite thank you or a curt nod in passing. By the time you made it to your door, you were throbbing between your legs. You couldn't hold it back. You didn't even care to scurry up the stairs and hide away in your bed. No, you simply threw your pants to the ground and sprawled out on the couch, slipping your fingers right inside your panties.

        You started with a gentle trace up and down your slit with a single finger. You stared up at the ceiling, using your imaginary paintbrush to paint a picture on the white canvas. Images of Daryl, his arms, his hands, the way he walked, each drag of a cigarette.

        You got worked up pretty fast. You got tired of teasing yourself. Wasn't lusting over an unattainable man torture enough?

        You slipped a finger inside yourself and sucked in a sharp breath, using your wetness to rub circles over your clit. "Oh..." You whined, closing your eyes, picturing his fingers in place of your own. You sped up the pace a little, rocking your hips as the tension began to build. You pictured the way he'd look down at you if he were there instead of your fingers. How he'd hold you still so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp, how he'd make you cum until you begged him to stop, and he'd probably keep going.

        "Daryl.." You moaned out, feeling a knot build in your abdomen. You were getting so close.

----

        He listened closely. You were moaning, that was for sure, but all he could see through the foggy windows was a blob on the couch that appeared to be moving.

        Fuck it, he thought. The tension was killing him. If you were moaning his name in there, there was no reason for him to hold back and be polite. He only hoped he could catch you in the act.

        He carefully grabbed the doorknob, hoping you wouldn't hear him. He twisted softly, and when he realized it wasn't locked, he pushed the door open.

        You jumped up and pulled your hand out of your panties, startled and wide-eyed as you stared at him. Shame washed over you as he gazed at you, pushing the door shut behind him.        

        "Daryl.." You breathed quietly. Your heart was beating so fast your chest could explode. He made slow steps over to you. Each thump of his boots on your floor made you flinch. "W-What are you doing..?"

        He glanced down at your wet panties and back up to you as he approached, towering over where you sat on the couch.

        "Could be askin' you the same." He rasped. You gulped.

        "I was just--"

        "You were sayin' my name." He cut you off. Your eyes grew wide. So, he definitely heard you.

        "No I wasn't." You lied.

        "Mm." He hummed. "Sure sounded like it."

        "Well even if I was you shouldn't be eavesdropping at my front--"

        "Shh." He hushed, tracing a calloused finger over your lips and down the front of your throat, hooking it on the collar of your shirt. His gaze was predatory, scanning down your body with a sense of starvation that made you tremble.

        He dragged another finger up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He admired the goosebumps that raised on your soft skin in the wake of his touch. His eyes met yours.

        "Tell me to stop and I will." He whispered. Your eyes widened as he leaned in and fluttered shut as his lips brushed against yours. You gasped into the kiss as he snapped with elastic of your underwear against your skin. He pulled back and peered down between your legs. You hadn't told him to stop, but he still hoped his next move would be okay. "Lemme see."

        "W-What?" 

        "Lemme see." He repeated, tugging at the hem of your panties. You were too nerve stricken to act, so you just nodded.

        Slowly, he dragged your panties down your thighs and held them up with a nearly invisible smirk. You glanced at the wet spot and blushed shamefully. "All for me?" He teased.

        He spread your legs wide.

        "Show me." He instructed. Your eyebrows met in confusion. "Show me how ya play with yourself." He clarified.

        "I-- I don't.."

        "Don't get nervous on me now. Sounded like ya had it under control just a minute ago." 

        With a shaky hand, you reached between your legs and aimlessly traced a circle over your clit with a single finger, never looking away from his face. He watched you for a minute and shook his head. 

        "Stop." He ordered. You did. You gasped as he traced his own finger right down your slit one time. "Like this..." He took your finger back to your clit and guided it, gentle laps around your clit causing your hips to jerk. "Now, do it just like that."

        You continued as he took his hand away, holding back the noises that threatened to escape. You kept asking yourself what you were doing, if this was even real. 

        He admired the show for some time, but it became quickly apparent you'd never make yourself cum with him watching like that. You were too nervous and clumsy. You couldn't keep a rhythm and you faltered every time you started to build yourself up to a climax. He gently pulled your hand to the side again.

        "Need some help?" He offered. You didn't respond. "Need an answer, darlin'."

        You hesitantly nodded.

        "Mm. Gon' need more than that." He taunted cockily. You nodded quicker this time, eagerness in your eyes. He smirked. "That's more like it.." He cooed, tracing his fingers up and down your clit gently. You let out a tiny whine. 

        Between him cutting you off right before you came earlier, and all those times you almost came trying to masturbate in front of him, you were so sensitive, and he could tell. Your clit was swollen and red and every little touch made you jolt and writhe.

        "Don't hold out on me. Let me know ya like it." He said as he slipped a finger inside you. You gasped and moaned as he massaged you, slipping a second finger in when he found your sweet spot. You bit down on your bottom lip and rolled your hips. Your moans grew louder and more confident as pleasure crept over you. That bashful, reserved girl from the pantry was quickly melting away, leaving you in a raw, lustful, dirty state. 

        Your eyes closed as your head fell back on the couch. His thumb pressed down on your clit as his fingers worked carefully inside. You moaned again as his rough thumb traced skillful circles over the sensitive area.

        "Say my name." He ordered.

        "Daryl.." You moaned shamelessly. He smirked.

        "Again."

        "Daryl." You whined. He was getting you close.       

        "Look at me." He demanded.

        You opened your eyes and watched him. Your eyelids were lazy and your eyes were glazed and sex drunk.

        "Say it."

        "Daryl." You squeaked. You were so close. That knot in your stomach was back, tied so tight that the rope was begging to snap.

        "What's my name?"

        "Daryl." You breathed.

        "C'mon, darlin.' Ya wanna cum or not?"

        "Daryl... Daryl.."

        "That's it." He slowed his pace to a stop, leaving you right at the edge. 

        "Daryl!" You whined and pouted. 

        He ignored your plea and pulled your shirt over your head before he tugged your bra down to expose your breasts. Your nipples were hard and bumps littered your skin as the cold air conditioning hit them. He pinched one hard, eliciting a small cry. He played with them a little before he slipped his fingers back inside you and worked his thumb over your clit again. You shuttered and exhaled a shaky moan. That was like, the fourth or fifth time your orgasm was cut off right before it started. It was torture. Painful, blissful, pleasurable torture. 

        You flinched and squirmed against his fingers, walls clenching and pulsating around his fingers, making it a little harder for him to work them. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

        "Look at me." He demanded. You obeyed. Your eyes welled up with tears as he built you back up. 

        "Please..."You begged.

        "Please, what?"

        "Please, Daryl."

        "Wha'd'ya want?"

        "Please, Daryl. I wanna cum."

        Triumph washed over him as you begged. 

        "I'm so close." You whispered. 

        "Then say it."

        "Daryl." You cried.

        "Again." 

        "D-Daryl.."

        "Don't stutter."

        "Daryl!" You moaned loud. A wave washed over you as you finally reached the climax. Your body shuddered, legs shaking as you moaned and writhed. He kept going until you rode the entirety of your high, only stopping when he was sure you couldn't take anymore.

        He looked down at the wet stain between your legs where the couch cushion soaked up all your cum, save for the mess all over his fingers. You shook and whined as he pulled his fingers out, watching with your mouth hung open as he sucked them clean and licked his lips.

        "Next time, just ask." He whispered as he kissed your forehead and left your house.

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[luvyeni]

❛PRIVATE DANCE❜ (h. hyunjin )

💬nia's note: not sure why but his solo songs gives male stripper vibes to me.

p. malestripper!hyunjin x shy!reader w. 1.9k

warnings? fem!reader, oral (fem. receiving), unprotected sex, missionary, dirty talk, vanilla sex

— 𖦹 ( hyunjin meets alot of girls , but none are quite like you ) !

"it's just a strip club (name)." your friends drags you to the front of the club. "unclench , it's my wedding party and you promised to do everything i wanted to do." you pouted , you made that promise unaware that she wanted to go to a strip club. "i know but- no buts." your other friend said. "we're here to get you out this shell , your young and hot , it's time to show it."

you wanted to protest , you did, but your friends are right. growing up , your parents really sheltered you. when it came to sex , you learned everything from the internet , which was the worst thing you could ever do so when it came time to lose your virginity finally in college , it was horrible , you felt no pleasure. ever since then you've completely shut the idea of having sex or anything sexual out of your brain.

"look i come here all the time." your friend said. "the dancer dancing tonight is amazing , he doesn't get on the in like a male thong or anything." she said. "although- shut up (friends name) , i promise, he's cool , and he's hot so that's a plus."

you thought about it for a second before nodding. "o-okay fine." they both clapped. "amazing , here." your friends handed you a few bills. "when he comes around , give it to him." you took the bills into your shaking hands. "good , ah! the shows about to start."

the room lights turned off , being replaced by a dark purple lights. "here he comes." you friends squealed along with the rest of the girls in the bar , just from silhouette alone as he stepped on to the stage. "good evening beautiful ladies." he spoke through the mic , everyone go even crazier. "i hope you enjoy the show."

the dark purple lights replaced with a lighter purple light , giving you a better look of his face — and he was absolutely beautiful , like handcrafted by god himself.

the music starts and hyunjin began dancing , swaying his hips , his eyes low as he looks at different women in the crowd , smirking when they'd scream his name. hyunjin loved this , he loved that he could get many people to worship him scream his name like he was some sort of god. "you ladies are looking good tonight."

"he is so hot." your friend jumped around in her seat. "i know right , isn't he?" your friends turned to you. "y-yeah." you stuttered , flustered out of your mind , you had been quiet the entire time , your eyes on him the entire time.

the way he danced , moving to the beat in such a sexual way did something to your body , his dark eyes made you clench your thighs together. "oh shit , here he comes." you friend slapped your leg , breaking your thoughts. "(name) , get the money ready."

hyunjin made is way to the crowd , bending down , collecting the money , allowing the women to get a touch of his body , before moving on. "ah seems like someone is getting married soon." he bent down to your friend. "maybe after the show you could come get a personal wedding present from me." he smirked , your friend smiled , handing him the money.

"i may up leaving my husband so not me." she said , turning to you , then to your other friend , who seemed to understand her. "but my friend here has never had a private dance before , maybe you could be the one to show her how fun it is." your eyes widened. "w-what!" hyunjin's eyes moved to yours , smirking when you tried to avoid eye contact. "hello."

you realised you were still holding the money. "oh , h-here." you shyly handed him the money. "thank you beautiful." he kissed your hand. "see you after the show." he backed up , eyes still locked with yours. "w-why did you guys do that?" you stressed. "i didn't want a solo dance from him." you friend held your shoulders. "well now you do , a wedding gift from me." she said. "i hate both of you."

after the dance , hyunjin said his goodbyes , making his way to the back , while you and your friends stay for drinks. "did you like it?" you nodded. "i-it was okay." you took a sip of your drink. "i'm still pissed that you guys did that though." you said. "(name) , it's just a private dance , it will be over just like that." the bride to be said. "you'll be fine."

hyunjin sat in his chair , his mind full of you , it had only been a spilt second , but he couldn't help but think about how shy you were , the way you could barely look at him , hyunjin met a lot of girls , but you were different , you were cute and just his type. "hyunjin , it's time for the private dance , should i go get her?" the bouncer came to the back.

"no it's fine changbin , i'll go get her myself." he said. "hyune , you know chan doesn't like it when you go to the floor when you're on the clock." he listened to his friend nag. "she seemed nervous , i feel like she'd be much better if i personally came and got her." he came up with an excuse. "chan will be fine." changbin agreed , hyunjin stood up. "jeongin got the room you wanted together." he thanked his buff friend , making his way out.

he found your table , making his way over to were you were watching one of your friends get drunk. "hello ladies." he smiled. "ah (name) there he is." your friend squealed. "isn't he hotter up close?" your friend slurred. "st-stop it." you whined , pulling her off you. "thank you pretty lady." she blushed , he turned to you. "you ready?" he held his hand out. "you seemed pretty nervous , so to ease your nerves by coming to get you." he said. "(name) , go have fun for once."

you grabbed his hand , and he helped you up. "follow me." he guided you throughout the bar , smiling when he felt you squeezing his hand. "i-i'm sorry." your realized what you were doing. "it's okay pretty girl." your heart was beating like crazy.

he stopped at brown door , opening it allowing you to walk into the room , taking a look around the red room with a red heart sofa. "this is a special room." he said closing the door. "i've only been in here maybe once since i've been here." he said turning on music , a really sexual song played from the speakers. "w-why?" you said , gaspin when you felt him come up behind you. "only for really special girls." he said against your ear.

your heart was beating like it was about to beat out of your chest. "sp-special." you said , he hummed. "yeah special." he moved his body to the music against you. "you're so tense princess." his hands to your shoulders , massaging. "relax for me."

he pressed a particular spot that made a soft moan slip from your mouth , slapping your hand over your mouth. "i-i'm sorry." you said. "don't apologize , especially when you're making such pretty noises." he released your shoulders. "you know i can pull more of those pretty noises from you." he whispered. "all you have to do is give me the permission."

you could hear your friends voices 'you need to have fun'. you bit your lip , nodding , he grabbed your cheek. "i need words , i need to know you want this." he said. "ye-yes." he smiled , caressing your cheek. "good girl." he pulled you into a kiss , he could sense you didn't know what you were doing , so he took lead , guiding you.

he backed you up , until you hit the couch , he gently pushed you down. "so pretty." he crouched down in between your legs. "i'll take care of you baby." he lifted your skirt above your hips , your panties on display. "hy-hyunjin." you covered your face. "uh-uh." he grabbed your hands. "let me see that pretty face , my shy baby."

he was killing you , slowly pulling your panties down your legs. "so messy baby , i barely did anything." he chuckled. "you're so worked up." he kissed your thighs , close to your heat , you whined. "you smell like heaven baby." he kissed even closer. "pl-please."

your whiny please was all he needed , he gave your clit a little lick , then licking a long stripe up your cunt. "o-oh my god." you moaned , he smirked against your cunt , repeating his motions over and over.

your hand came to his hair , grabbing it gently tugging it , making him moan against your heat. "fu-fuck , hyun-hyunjin more." he made eye contact with you , before bringing his plump lips around your clit sucking on it. "ngh , m'gonna cum."

he kept sucking your clit , your tugs at his hair making his cock harder and harder. "i want you to cum in my mouth princess." you mumbled against your clit. "cum for me." your mouth dropped open , as he sucked harder , forcing your orgasm out of you , your juices flooding his mouth. "so fucking good."

he kissed your clit one last time , smiling at your fucked out face. "so fucking pretty." you covered your face again. "no no no , what have i told you about hiding that pretty face." he said pulling your hands from your face. "i-i c-can't help it." he chuckled. "i know baby , that's what's so cute about you." he said.

he layed you down on the couch , hovering over your body , leaving little kisses on your neck. "w-wait." you stopped him. "you okay love?" he asked concern in his voice. "i-i only did this once." you said as he undid his slacks , his cock straining in his underwear. "and it wasn't really good , so im not sure what to do , but i want to do it."

he nodded , freeing himself from his underwear. "i'll take care of you love." the tip of his cock kissed your hole. "make sure you feel real good." he slowly slid into your hole , the stretch was painful , but it wasn't unbearable. "fu-fuck baby you're so tight." he groaned. "just relax for me , let me in."

he finally bottom out , giving you a chance to grow accustomed to his size. "gonna move now love , is that okay." you whimpered , nodding. "words love." you moaned out a yes , and he pulled out , pushing himself back into you , moving his hips , thrusting inside of you. "hyunjin , fu-fuck."

"s-so good." you looked so pretty laid out for him , your hair all messy , sweat dripping from body , moaning his name loudly as he fucked into you. "yeah?" he moaned. "you feeling good princess, i told you i could make you feel good." he rubbed your clit. "gonna make you cum on my cock."

as soon as you said that , you felt it , the band in your stomach snapping. "oh fuck "im cumming!" you screamed , clenching hard around him as you came. "sh-shit." he rubbed your waist , soothing you as he pulled out of your cunt. "you did so well."

he tucked his still hard cock back into his pants. he smiled, helping you get cleaned up , putting your underwear on. "b-but you didn't- i know." he said.

"that just means you have to go out with me as a pay back."

©️LUVYENI

[soulofapatrick]

Nothing Changes - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: You wake the next morning to an empty bed and panic

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: None; fluffy

Notes: I'm really sorry for writing so much Hotch, I'm rewatching criminal minds and all these story ideas for him have been on my mind

Waking up to an empty bed, I feel my heart sink as the realization hits me: Hotch isn’t lying beside me anymore. Panic flutters in my chest as my mind races through a flurry of thoughts. Of course, he left. He couldn’t stay, not without risking our jobs, our reputations, and maybe even our friendship. What if one of the team found out? What would they think of me? They’d probably assume I’m taking advantage of Hotch, especially considering it’s only been two years since Haley’s passing. The man seems to still be grieving, and here I am, complicating things even more.

The distant sound of the shower running breaks through my panic, and relief floods through me, mingling with a tinge of nervousness. Maybe he hadn’t left entirely. Maybe there’s still a chance, a hope that last night wasn’t just a fleeting moment of weakness, but something more. Last night was the first time we gave in to the building sexual tension between us.

His clothes are still strewn across my room, a tangible reminder of the intimacy we shared. I can’t help but replay the events of last night in my mind—the way his touch ignited a fire within me, the way his eyes held mine with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. The way he was so gentle yet so dominant, knowing how to work my body right.

As I slowly come to wakefulness, the sound of the shower grows louder, filling the empty space with its steady rhythm. Part of me longs to join him, to lose myself in the warmth of his embrace once more. But another part of me hesitates, afraid of what this newfound connection might mean for us both.

Before I can decide both of our phones are ringing, the shrill sound makes my head hurt and I’m groaning, burying my face in the pillow Hotch had previously slept on. The phones ring till they stop and I count to four before both start ringing again, ruining the peace this almost domestic moment.

I’m smacking the bed in faint protest before wriggling over to the nearest phone and answering, “Yeah?”

No one speaks for a second before I recognise JJ clearing her throat, “We need you in, we’ve got a case.” There’s amusement in her tone that has me frowning before my heart drops for the second time this morning.

“JJ…” I pause, swallowing thickly, “This is Hotch’s phone, isn’t it?” I groan, turning my head to look at the bedside table to see my phone sitting there, “Oh god!”

“I won’t say a word,” She pauses and I hear her stifle a small laugh, I won’t tell if you tell me all about it on girls night.”

“Deal.” I reluctantly agree before hanging up and throwing Hotch’s phone somewhere on the bed.

I climb out of bed, feeling the cool air against my skin as I pad to the bathroom, wearing nothing but Hotch’s button up I throw on haphazardly, not bothering to do it up.

Hotch stands under the shower, his silhouette obscured by the mist, like a figure emerging from a dream. The gentle stream of water traces the contours of his body, sculpting shadows and highlights that accentuate every line and sinew. Droplets cling to his skin, glistening like diamonds in the soft light filtering through the steam.

His shoulders, broad and powerful, bear the weight of countless burdens, yet in this moment, they seem almost weightless, as if the water washes away the weight of the world. The water cascades over his chest, tracing the ripple of muscle, each movement a testament to strength and resilience.

His jawline is sharp, chiseled, a portrait of determination and resolve. The water courses over it, tracing the curve of his lips, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners. There’s a vulnerability in that smile, a glimpse of the man behind the stoic facade, and it steals my breath away.

His eyes, closed in peaceful repose, are hidden from view, yet I can imagine them so clearly—deep pools of darkness, windows to a soul that has weathered storms and emerged unbroken. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and in that moment, I feel as though I can see straight into his.

Every inch of him is a study in contrasts—the strength and vulnerability, the resilience and tenderness—all wrapped up in one beautiful, complex package. And as I watch him, bathed in the gentle embrace of the water, I feel something stir within me, something deep and unspoken.

It’s as if with each droplet that falls, my heart beats a little faster, my breath catches a little tighter. In that moment, I realize just how deeply I’ve fallen for him, how every part of me longs to reach out and touch him, to pull him close and never let go.

I give in to that want, stepping towards the shower, the warm water enveloping me like a comforting embrace. With a quick motion, I shrug off his shirt, feeling the fabric slip from my skin, and I step under the water next to him. Droplets cascade over us, mingling with the steam, as I close the distance between us.

My fingers tremble as I reach out, brushing lightly up his toned bicep, tracing the contours of muscle beneath his skin. A small sound escapes him, a mixture of surprise and pleasure, as he looks down to meet my gaze. His cognac eyes soften as they meet mine, warmth and affection swirling within their depths.

His hands find my hips, fingers tracing patterns against my skin, as if mapping out the curves and contours of my body. There’s a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that belies the strength of the man before me. With each caress, he stirs something deep within me, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment.

I feel a surge of longing, an ache that resonates deep within my soul, as his touch sends shivers coursing through me. It’s as if every nerve in my body is alight with electricity, every sense heightened by the intensity of his presence.

And then, without hesitation, he pulls me flush against him, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss. It’s a collision of desire and longing, a meeting of souls bound together by the undeniable pull of attraction. His lips are soft against mine, a gentle exploration that sets my heart ablaze.

“Can we just stay here?” I mumble, pulling away from the kiss to rest my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my cheek. I don’t care if we’re late, if I have to dry my hair before we leave, if we miss the plane. I don’t care for anything except the safety of Hotch’s strong arms wrapped around me.

“I don’t suppose the only reason you came in was to shower with me, was it?” He hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him, an eyebrow raise and an amused look on his face.

“No,” I can’t help but pout, drawing a chuckle from him and he ducks down to press a kiss to my forehead, “we have a case.”

“Well,” he brushes my now wet hair from my face, “We have about an hour.”

“It takes me 45 on a good day Hotch.” I grumble and his eyes widen a little in disbelief as I’ve never told anyone where I live let alone how long it takes me to get to work until now. Until the very man I’ve been dreaming of for months is standing, very, very naked in my shower.

“Alright sweetheart, we’ll pick up some coffee on the way in.” My heart flutters at the pet name, my cheeks heating up and I’m burying my face in his muscular chest, “Sweetheart?”

“What happens when we enter the office?” I mumble against his chest.

“Nothing has to change.”

“Nothing has to change?”

“I promise”

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

[aphroditeinthesea]

can i please request a percy jackson x reader where the reader is a daughter of aphrodite to the song i can do it with a broken heart by taylor swift

“ i can do it with a broken heart ”

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite 🌊

⚠️ percy is an ass to the reader but that’s kinda a given + percabeth inclusion woop woop

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

i can read ur mind

she’s having the time of her life

there in her glittering prime the lights reflect

sequin stars off her silhouette every night

i can show you lies

“I’m so happy you're finally getting over him,” her sister smiled, hand on her back.

She forced a grin as she continued to sing along to the campfire song. She nodded and waited for her sister to turn her attention away. When she finally saw the girl from the corner of her eye turn towards her boyfriend.

Y/N looked down to the grass. If she looked up she knew what she would see. Just the thought was nauseating. The boy who she claimed to all her friends she would marry, who she already had best laid plans to move to New Rome with and go to college together.

Everything that came to a crumble when he decided he did want those things. Just with his best friend instead.

She watched from across the way how his arm was wrapped around the blonde. They weren't even talking, just looking into each other’s eyes. It was as though they were having an entire conversation without saying anything. She recalled how when she first started going out with Percy and her friends tried to warn her. Everyone knew that the two were soulmates, except for three people.

She wondered if on some level she always knew, too. Maybe she was just denying it to stay with him for just a little bit longer. Even if she screamed all night the day she he broke up with her.

If you were ever so inclined to wonder what really truly happened, here’s the deal:

It was like any other Friday. Perseus Jackson waltzed into her cabin, head low almost as though he cared. He told her he wanted to talk to her privately in cabin three. Her heart sank. She knew. She just knew.

Soon enough, while she sat on his bed and he stood in front of her, he spoke in his softest voice.

“We need to break up.”

She felt her head get dizzy while she looked up at him, “what?”

“I’m so sorry,” he sat next to her, “I hate having to do this to you.”

“Why?” was all she could say.

His eyebrows creased, while tears welled up in his sea green eyes. She felt like she was looking into one of the clear seas of Greece. “I dont feel about you the way that I should.”

She sighed, “Annabeth.” Although because of the weakness in her voice, all that came out was, “Eth.”

He understood her. Slowly nodding, he began once again, “I realized I feel more about her than I should,” he took a breath, “but I wouldn't do anything before ending this with you. I couldn't hurt you like that.”

That damn loyalty of his.

“I get it.”

i’m a real tough kid

i can handle my shit

they said “babe, you gotta fake it til you make it”

and i did

The next morning, it was like it never happened. Afterall, a girl’s gotta have a reputation to upkeep. Everyone’s favorite daughter of Aphrodite. Who could hate a girl so bubbly and peppy and outgoing and happy and has never once had a bad hair day?

Everyone tried to get her to talk about it, but the only thing she said was “I’m helping at arts and crafts today, tee-tee-why-ell!”

With a smile on her face and the taste of vomit on her lips, she pranced around helping campers make vases and false confidence.

“You need to guide your hands up more, like this-”

“Y/N.”

She looked up to lock eyes with the daughter of Athena. “Annabeth.”

“I really wanted to talk to you.”

She flashed her blinding smile and raised eyebrows, “I would love to talk, but I’m right now,” even though her blood boiled at the sight of the blonde curls, “see you later, though.”

“I’m staying.”

“Oh!” She squeaked, “grab a seat.”

lights, camera, bitch smile

even when you wanna die

he said he’s love me all his life

but that life was too short

As soon as y/n was alone she broke down, hitting the floor. She felt all the pieces of her shatter. She had spent hours grinning like a winner before she finally crashed.

She let out every emotion she had felt that day. The anger, the sadness, the betrayal, the heartbreak, all of it. She let out a scream for every glance she shared with either Percy or Annabeth.

But just before dinner, she dolled up her makeup and curled her hair to perfection. Then brushed it out. Then straightened it.

She knew she was overthinking it, but how damn stupid would she look walking out to dinner with hair that mirrored the girl she was just left for? Of course, the meal went as it always would. Her cracking jokes with her siblings, giving out advice that not a soul asked for, all was normal except for the table across the way.

The Poseidon table, which was currently being shared by a certain blonde. This had to be a joke. She watched their conversation flow so easily. The laughs, the smiles, whispers, before Annabeth snuck back off to her own table.

She thought to herself that maybe she should have done that. I mean, if little miss perfect could bend the rules a little, why couldn't she? Maybe that’s why he left?

Over the next few weeks, she tried to block out everything about him. Maybe it was just a dream. But occasionally she’d find something of his in a drawer. Crucial evidence she didn't just imagine the whole thing.

She was sure she could pass this test. The test being the ability to not spend her days crying. And although she did cry a whole lot, she was so damn productive. It was honestly an art. She knew for the rest of her life that this time really proved how good she was at faking. You know? ‘Cause she’s miserable and nobody even knows.

Try and come for her job.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Can I request a Leon x reader for RE4 remake? :0

Reader is one of the missing hikers that was mentioned during the opening cutscene and managed to escape the villagers just as she runs into Leon on his way to the lake. Leon has her come with him, even reader helping him keep Ashley safe, and during the whole mission, they start to develop feelings and Leon gets more protective. Can even be suggestive- especially during the chained scene if you want. 😳

A/N: Since I got one more request about this scene specifically I'll do a part two with the smut

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of violence, fem!reader, not proofread

part 2

Darkness was all (Y/N) could see as she took cover in the cool, shadowy tunnel, using its gloomy nooks to hide from the locals, whose inhumane rage almost caused her horrific doom. Her entire body shook, her heart thumped loudly in her ears as the adrenaline in her veins was still in abnormal amounts. Images of what she saw haunted her and even now she was safe she trembled in fear as the awful memories resurfaced, making it even harder for them to catch her breath. Sounds of footsteps caught her attention; tears formed in the corners of her reddened eyes; her breath hitched. The sound grew louder and soon after she was able to make out the silhouette of a man; frozen in fear, (Y/N) couldn’t move as the man was slowly nearing her. Her (E/C) irises were glued on him so much so she didn’t notice her foot was poking out of the safety of the shadows.

Carefully, her gaze followed his movements; her fisted rolled, taking a hold of any object that was underneath her. Her poor heart was on the verge of exploding; her chest rose and fell in an unnaturally quick pace as her breathing grew shallow. A yelp ripped past her lips at the sudden force hitting her foot; a thud echoed on her right. Cold sweat broke out on her skin; her eyes widened in utter horror as she was faced with the man and more importantly the barrel of his gun. In that split moment she surrendered to her fate; and at this exact moment the thought of a quick painless death was a blessing in comparison to the horrors she witnessed in the cruel village, the screams of the poor police man will forever be imprinted in her conscience. Yet the freeing moment she expected never arrived and instead of the gun she saw an inviting hand once she peeled her eyes open.

“Are you hurt?” She barely made out the words, for her anxiety driven mind was far too hazy for her to comprehend.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Her voice was quiet, her glassy eyes bore into his; his heart clenched, a smear of guilt weaved in his features.

Shouts anchored the attention of the two; dozens of villagers lurked about the end of the tunnel, the lights of their torches threw light on the barricade the two were hidden behind. Chills ran down her spine at the sound of sickles and hatches flying by her, she wasn’t ready to go through this, not again.

“You’ll have the time to thank me later.” The mysterious man took a hold of her hand and dragged her in the opposite direction.

“So, what brings you here?” (Y/N) spoke up breaking the unnerving silence.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He answered not even turning around to face her; she let out a deep sigh.

“Okay let me guess.” She tapped her chin, stimulating her logical thinking. “You definitely aren’t here on a vacation, judging by your… gear.” She paused as she observed the arsenal of weapons resting right on his back.

“Go on.” His foot stomped on a wooden box, demolishing it with just the force of his limb; impressed by his strength, (Y/N) fell silent as she looked at him with awe.

“Now’s my turn.” He turned around, finally facing her after the frenzy of running from villagers the two had gone through. “You’re a hiker, who got lost and now you’re here.” She was at loss of words, yet the puzzled, hurt look on her face didn’t fail to reflect the state of her heart.

“Are you a clairvoyant or what.” The mysterious man chuckled before e knelt down to pick up a box of what looked to be ammunition; the muscles of his back and shoulders flexed as he then stood up, the leather of his fingerless gloves tightened around his fist.

“Can I at least know the name of the guy that saved my ass.” She asked, in attempt to distract herself from the newfound subject of her interest. He turned to face her; the sunrays highlighted his features that she hasn’t had the time, nor opportunity to observe. His hair was a beautiful blond color, the strands of which appeared gold under the light of the setting sun; his jaw and cheekbones were defined and smooth as if he wasn’t a human being but rather a marble sculpture, carved by the most skillful of craftsmen. The irises of his eyes were a mixture of different cobalt blue hues each prettier than the previous, every shade made for a whirl of unreadable emotions that were contained deep within him, enhancing the intensity and mystery to him.

“Leon Kennedy.” Immediately, her attention was anchored to his full, silky-smooth lips and to the Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he spoke. “It’s rude to not introduce yourself, you know?” He looked her up and down, his gaze both judgmental and intrigued.

“It’s (Y/N).” Her gaze shied away from his prying one that ironically also drew her in with a strong invisible force.

“Okay, (Y/N) you’re gonna have to stick to me if you wanna make it through.” She nodded, not paying much attention to the words he spoke as she noted how her name sounded when he said it. She was screwed.

Together they explored their surroundings; before them there was a heavily damaged house, behind it’s gaping hole was another one that was intact. Driven by her intuition, she pointe the house to Leon and so they headed to it. The space was plain and fairly minimalistic with just a few pieces of furniture lying around, the color scheme of the room though was even more poor that the interior itself. Dust particles flew in the air as the slowly fell and clung to any surface that was already covered in thick layer of debris and filth. Continuing her venture inside, (Y/N) heard a strange sound; investigating it’s source she came along a darkened, narrow corridor above which was a ticking bomb. Immediately, she called out for Leon, who safely detonated it. Weirdly enough, the bomb wasn’t her found, for she noticed a ladder leading to what appeared to be basement.

“I’ll go check it out. You stay here.” Leon was quick to move past her, preventing her from entering the gaping dark opening.

“Are you out of your mind? I’m not staying alone.” She protested; her arms crossed in front of her chest as she struck him with a stern look.

“Sure.” He sighed in defeat, he had no time for arguing. “Ladies first.” He jokingly pointed to the entrance; hesitantly, she gazed at the hole and then at Leon. The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly.

“Just as I thought.” He said before he jumped. Shocked, (Y/N) screamed his name only to be hear his chuckle- the one she couldn’t get enough of despite having only heard it only twice. She cursed as she got down after him; the lighthearted mood soon evaporated as they noticed a suspicious looking sack. Leon pointed his flashlight at the object and knelt before it; a piercing scream resonated from behind him. Swinging his gun in the air, he saw her trapped in the grasp of an atrociously tall man, dressed in black from head to toe. With no hesitation, the agent fired at the man, yet he seemed unphased; a powerful force hit him, causing him to fly across the room. Slowly, blackness took over his hazy vision as a sudden warmth embraced his head; (Y/N)’s screams of horror echoed in his head.

[ssspideysense]

₊˚ෆ bad habits

summary: peter tends to act on impulse — that’s what got him here in the first place.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: fluff, pining, peter’s a hopeless romantic

wc: 2.7k

What makes something a bad habit?

People usually use the phrase when they mean too much of something— too much coffee in the morning, too many cigarettes a day, too much to drink on the weekends. Overindulgence. Lack of self control.

Peter thought about this as he waited, the skin-tight material of his suit doing absolutely nothing to block the chilling rain running down his back. Past the city lights glimmering against her window pane, the apartment inside was dimly lit. He could make out the splash of colors against the hallway from the living room TV. It wouldn’t surprise him if she fell asleep on the couch again— she had a bad habit of staying up too late, biting off more than she could chew most nights and paying for it a few hours later. He wondered briefly, and hoped a bit selfishly, that he maybe had something to do with that.

He knocked again. Louder, in a little rhythm— bum ba bum, bum ba bum.

No more than once a week. That’s how it started out, however many months ago, when he crawled through that window for the first time. Swinging by more than one night a week would be way too much. He had things to do, really, and so did she. It wasn’t realistic to expect her to wait around, twiddling her pretty little thumbs, keeping her schedule free for a chance to let him into her bedroom window at 12:17 am.

12:18 am.

12:19 am.

Peter shivered. The cold had started to seep into his skin, but the chill that ran up and down his spine wasn’t from the sudden downpour.

Even the glimpse of her figure, a dark silhouette he could pick out in any city crowd, was enough to set off that tingle in the base of his skull, even for just a moment. He watched her scurry over to the window, an apologetic look tugging on her face.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you,” she said, and her voice was music slipping over the smack of raindrops against the iron fire escape, “oh my God, get in here, will you?”

If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. Sometimes he was grateful for the mask and the few freedoms it allowed him—

“Wait here.”

—she couldn’t see the way his entire face lit up as he happily maneuvered through the window, or the way his eyes followed her as she wandered over to her linen closet to grab a towel for him.

Peter stood in a puddle on her hardwood. Obedient, embarrassingly so.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked. In the relative dark of her quiet bedroom, she handed him the towel, gazing up at him with the kind of eyes that make poets pick up pens.

“I should probably be saying yes, since it’s midnight, but I’m going to be disappointing and say no,” she chuckled under her breath and took a small step back.

Peter wrapped the towel around his shoulders like a kid getting out of the pool. It smelled like her laundry detergent, a scent he never thought he’d catch himself daydreaming about when he was miles away and objectively much busier with something much more pressing.

He had a bad habit of letting his mind wander, especially when it wanted to grip onto memories of her.

“You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” he replied.

She sent him a pointed look with a raised brow. “And so are you, when you wake up sick. What the hell are you doing? Does the song Itsy Bitsy Spider not ring a bell?”

She fussed over him. He liked it when she fussed over him.

“Yeah, y’know, the part where he climbs up the spout again is my favorite, actually.”

There was a pair of sweatpants and a big hoodie thrown at him before he could even pretend to argue against them.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” she said, gliding away, leaving him to drip quietly in her bedroom as he watched her back disappear down the hall.

“Decaf?” he called after her.

“Do you really want decaf?” she called right back.

She’d slipped from view, little clinks and clunks from the kitchen catching his ears. Peter shrugged the towel from his shoulders and started to peel his suit off. It’d become a second skin, literally and figuratively, clinging to every inch of him, making him shudder as the warmth of her apartment replaced the cold wrap of wet spandex.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, bug— trying to be more health conscious this year,” Peter replied with a grin. In reality, he knew she’d be up all night and woefully exhausted the next day if she got her hands on some regular coffee, so he’d gladly take one for the team with decaf.

He stood at the foot of her bed in his boxers, looking down at the change of clothes she insisted upon him.

It was strange, the way Peter was utterly exposed like this, not even behind a closed door for a breath of privacy, but it didn’t bother him. The suit and the mask sat in a heap next to her radiator and it didn’t matter. He pulled the comfortable cotton up to his hips and slipped the hoodie over his head.

Soft, warm, foreign yet familiar all at once.

He heard her footsteps, heard them pause at the mouth of the hallway. The gut-drop feeling of meeting her gaze unobstructed, bare-faced and messy haired, wasn’t the same as it was the first time. Or the second, or third— she knew his face just as well as he knew hers at this point. Anxiety faded over time, replaced with a new, giddy sort of rush that started in his chest and spread over his body in waves.

She made him feel like a teenager again, and she didn’t even have to do anything. It was a little pathetic, maybe, how much he looked forward to these kinds of nights, but he’d ruminate about that later in the quiet of his bed.

Peter padded his way down the hall to her, moving through the space like he belonged there. He took in her small smile as she leaned back against the kitchen island. The smell of coffee hit him once the machine started to gurgle softly on the counter.

“Are you still cold? I can crank up the heat,” she offered as he drew closer. Her gaze fell on his mouth then— more specifically, the cut on his bottom lip. A little hiss escaped her as she reached up and brushed her thumb beside it.

He looked down at her with a slightly amused expression, watching her brows furrow down as she examined his face.

“No, it’s fine. I’m already walking around in your clothes, waiting on a cup of your coffee. I feel like a Tinder date that’s vastly overstayed his welcome, and I just got here,” Peter quipped, letting her turn his head by his jaw and study him some more. Her soft fingers caught his stubble but she didn’t seem to mind.

She arched a brow at him and eventually pulled her hand back. “I’ve never had a Tinder date crawl into my eighth-story window before.”

“I’m not really an expert on romance, but something tells me that’s a good thing.”

Her hum was low as she turned and gathered two mugs from the cupboard above her. “Tinder isn’t exactly the place to look for romance anyway, Spidey,” she sat them down with a clink.

Spidey.

He’d chosen to start with his face last summer. A bold choice, truly, but it felt like the safer option at the time. There was eight million people in New York— a couple thousand guys were bound to look just like him.

A face without a name was the tiniest breadcrumb he could drop to satiate that need, that desire to feel seen by her in some capacity without completely laying himself out there.

It was a dance he didn’t know the steps to. But she played along well, stumbling in the dark with him and letting him lead, however awkward and shaky.

Peter leaned against the counter and watched her pour two cups. “It’s not? I’m not really in the dating scene. Do people still meet out in the wild these days?”

And she gave him that little chuckle under her breath he liked. “You sound old,” she mused as she reached into her fridge. The pale light bathed her in a sweet, domestic sort of glow that one could only feel in sweatpants in the kitchen after midnight.

“Hey— I’m only twenty-six,” he countered, dipping his head despite the little grin growing on his face.

He watched her pause, just for a moment.

Another breadcrumb. A thread.

But she didn’t draw too much attention to it. Peter pictured her tucking it away for future reference.

“Well, to answer your question, yes. I guess people do still meet out in the wild,” she poured the creamer and scooped the sugar and reminded him that she knew so much about him without really knowing him, not yet, and he both loved and hated that, “but I’m probably not the best person to ask about all that. I think if a man randomly approached me in a bookstore or something, I’d probably assume he was some kind of weirdo.”

Peter hummed, his brow furrowed but his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. His fingers were cold when he gently accepted the drink from her.

“Alright, noted. What about guys that fall out of the sky and crash into your fire escape?”

He peered at her over the top of the mug as he took the longest, hottest drink of his life— anything to avoid the reality of what he just said for a few moments longer.

His throat burned, but it was fine.

The air felt heavier then, thick like the air outside as her gaze flicked over his face.

“That depends. Is he kind of awkward in a weirdly charismatic way?”

And Peter swallowed down the lava for a chance at a deeper breath without choking, “I mean— in this completely hypothetical and improbable scenario, yeah, I’d— I’d say so,” he replied.

The corners of her mouth curled up softly. “And did he come back a week later, trying to apologize with four different types of candy at ten o’clock at night?”

He cleared his throat to try and hide the chuckle that almost slipped out. “He didn’t know what kind you liked,” Peter said, that heat trickling up to his face for a different reason.

She blew on her coffee before sipping it, because she clearly had more sense than he did, and shrugged.

“Helping you out with a broken nose and a concussion makes for a more interesting story to look back on,” she replied softly.

This line they were toeing was a tightrope, strung high and taught and delicate.

Sometimes Peter wanted to take the leap. Just dive right onto the other side, tugging her along with him.

The clock on the stove read 12:37.

12:38.

“Do you think about it? The night we met?”

And she sat her mug down on the counter beside her. The sweater she wore was loose and comfortable on her frame as she crossed her arms. “Sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

“Do you?” she countered, tilting her head just a bit to the side as she gazed up at him.

Peter leaned back. His mug was empty, the roof of his mouth was a bit sore, but he swallowed regardless. “I do, sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

The rain outside picked up. It smacked against her windows with the whistle of wind just underneath it all.

“Sometimes, when I can’t sleep. I’m usually thinking about the last time I saw you, though. Much clearer picture there,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and looked off to the side, though her soft, slight smile cut the air of annoyance she tried to hold on to.

“Stop,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “that’s not fair.” He had a feeling he knew what she meant— and he had to agree, watching her avoid his gaze.

Peter reached a hand out to pull her arms out of their closed off, crossed position. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she was soft, pliable, letting him grasp her wrists and guide her forward gently into his torso.

He wrapped around her, his nose in her hair, committing the scent of her shampoo to memory.

“I know,” he mumbled back.

She was quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest in that borrowed hoodie she thought he looked criminally good in. After a few moments of his fingers lightly tracing shapes between her shoulder blades, she sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair, either, Spidey.” And she was right again.

He had a bad habit of trying to fix everything.

“Peter,” he said, his voice low against her roots, “it’s Peter.”

The wind shook the windows. She was nearly laying on him with how he held her, his long frame leaned back, arms circled around her shoulders. His breath came in calculated waves, but she could feel the rhythm changing the longer she stayed silent, along with his heartbeat under her ear.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

“Peter,” she tried it out, and it felt like hearing her voice for the first time.

His fingers splayed over her back and his palm smoothed up her spine. “Yes?” he mumbled back.

She had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve, at least around him.

“I think I might have a thing for guys who fall out of the sky and crash into my fire escape.”

Overindulgence, lack of self control— whatever it was, it didn’t matter, really. Peter smiled against her scalp. A low rumble of a chuckle vibrated through his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head once, twice, and squeezed her against him.

She let out a little grunt in response, feeling too much like a squeaky toy to not laugh. “Pe—Peter—super strength, remember?”

“Right, yeah— my bad, bug,” he loosened his hold just enough for her to look up at him, her palms now flat on his chest between them. “But, y’know, you have some pretty weird tastes. I should’ve known when you picked the gummy bears over the Reese’s.”

12:52. He had one foot dangling on the other side of that line he spent far too long thinking about.

And she laughed that laugh and scrunched her nose up the way she did when she found something amusing, yet dumb. She did that a lot when he talked. He took it as a personal victory every time.

“You really don’t have any room to call me weird. You run around the city in spandex every night,” she mused, her lips curled into a smile.

“It makes me aerodynamic.”

“Yeah, you were real aerodynamic when you smacked your head on the rail—“

Peter was never really a planner. It made sense in the moment, to lean in and kiss her, his hands shifting to either side of her jaw. And it made sense the way she hummed into his mouth, either from surprise or the fact that she was very much in the middle of a sentence. But it was alright, because they stood there in the middle of her dark kitchen at 12:55 am, and her lips were soft, much softer than his.

He decided he could excuse every one of his bad habits, maybe write them off as quirks instead, because as he kissed her, he realized that every single one had led him right there; drinking decaf coffee in borrowed sweatpants, listening to the rain and her deepened breathing.

She pulled away just enough to speak, their lips still brushing against each other, “I wasn’t done—“

“Neither was I,” his tone was nothing but a playful tease, and he kissed her again, “how rude of you to interrupt me like that,” and again, “honestly, sometimes I can’t believe the lack of manners in this city.”

Her laugh was grounding when his head was busy floating. She smacked his chest lightly. “Lack of manners? Let’s start with you. You crawl in through my window soaking wet, drink my coffee in my clothes that I totally don’t keep around for you just in case, and kiss me without permission,” she gave him the grocery list and he nodded to each point over-attentively, humming along.

“Right, yeah— you forgot the part where I interrupted you.”

“And you interrupted m—“

Peter kissed her again.

[ferrstappen]

the second time we broke up l Lando Norris series

a/n: HELLO, I really like this concept and hope you enjoy it enough so I can come up with a third and final part that I have in mind <3 thank you for your messages, sorry for the delay on the requests, but I promise I'll get through them and announce the 1k celebration! <3

PART ONE HERE

pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

words: 3.7k

warnings: teeny tiny allusions to sex, wear words.

genre: angst and some fluff <3

summary: there were reasons to try again, but maybe not enough.

You mourned the relationship, your first relationship, the classic way: crying, ice cream, sad love songs, getting drunk, bashing him with your friends who trash talked him with you, more crying, trying to get back up, realizing your worth. 

Learning to live with no Lando, your dorky friend and loving boyfriend. 

On the other hand, Lando was angry. He didn’t let himself cry, feel sad, be sorry for himself, be apologetic. He was resentful. Did you feel superior to him? How could you do better than him, a Formula 1 driver? 

Maybe it was his bruised ego talking, acknowledging you actually could do better than an immature F1 driver who couldn’t give you stability, the comfort you deserved, the attention he couldn’t (or didn’t want to) reciprocate.

He simply let go, detached himself from the situation and simply forgot about it; rolled his eyes whenever friends from home brought you up at the same time he was getting acquainted with other people. Lando Norris was just realizing the world was his and had to take advantage of it; he was wanted, he was desired, and he let it go to his head while walking the streets of Monaco, letting his eyes trace the silhouette of women who dedicated him a flirty smile.

He spent more time discovering Monaco’s night life, going out with other drivers and their social circles, leaving the club with a stunning woman by his side, gaining the experiences he lacked because everything he got to know was you. 

This went on for the entire break, he rapidly left the family home after Christmas under the excuse of clearing his head, feeling comfortable in his new home, new country.

It all lasted until the season was supposed to start, but it didn’t.

In the blink of an eye, he was cloistered; no more night life, expensive champagne, exotic cocktails, waking up with a different figure every morning before gently letting them know it was time to leave. 

For the first time he was realizing the hotel room was empty; one suitcase, one phone charger. The bathroom only had the miniature hotel goodies, there wasn’t a shampoo bar, some Lush shower gel (that he always used), no hair left in the tub, YLS perfume on the counter. 

The next day he noticed Charles had a new girlfriend, Charlotte he heard, and he saw a bit of you in her; she was shy, educated, wealthy family, an outfit that could’ve resembled yours whenever you blessed the McLaren garage with your presence, and she was also carrying her laptop in order to get some reading done while supporting her boyfriend.

That was the moment Lando noticed you were missing.

He didn’t know what to do at first, what are you supposed to do to regain contact with your ex-girlfriend with whom you didn’t have the friendliest of break ups? It’d only been a couple of months, but he was aware he was different and of course you would be as well. 

He tried to subtly ask Max whenever he flew over to Monaco (pretty much every weekend). His best friend only fed him small details here and there, knowing exactly the intentions of his friend, even if he tried to act all nonchalant and recounting his experiences with girls here and there.

But there was only so much Max could take.

“Mate, what’s the thing with (y/n)? Why do you keep asking me about her?” Max asked, Lando caught unprepared for the question (or outburst) of his friend. 

“What do you mean? Of course I want to know about her, she’s still my friend,”

Max rolled his eyes. “Mate, you’ve rolled your eyes during the last month whenever someone brought her up, behaving like a child throwing a tantrum and now you’re all interested?” Max questioned his best friend, trying to use an understanding tone so Lando wouldn’t shut down. “I can’t help you unless you tell me, mate.”

Lando took a deep breath. 

How was he supposed to tell him he missed you?

No, that was too simple, too ordinary, I miss you couldn’t begin to express the turmoil of feelings wanting to burst out of his lips after being muted and ignored for so long.

He enjoyed silence, but he missed your quiet humming. 

He had fun meeting new girls, but he craved your body under, on top, against his own, like two pieces of a perfect puzzle knowing what the other needed. 

He got annoyed sometimes when you asked him to keep his voice down while streaming, but he missed the scattered papers, books, class notes on the living room table, eyes closed and hair scattered over the table.

He hated his closet, full of hoodies, not one trench coat, denim or leather jacket, thick sweater. 

He despised his kitchen, only watching his trainer approved food, no ice cream, hidden Maltesers as to not tempt him, bland orange Jaffa Cakes he’d always laugh and call you a grandma for having them. 

He missed your careless figure, only a bra and thong or boy shorts roaming from the bathroom to the bedroom over and over again, always missing a t-shirt, a skin tint, a brush, a hair pin. 

He hated himself for forgetting to call his mum, being used to you reminding him to FaceTime her.

And so he told Max everything; the void on his chest, the shivers in his arms, the empty side of the bed, the rose scented shower gel, the tingling on the palm of his hand, the exhaustion of trying to find you in other people when he knew there was no one like you, the desperation of thinking of you with someone else, the fear of not living the future he made up in his head.

Of course, after he let it out of his chest his best friend was staring at him as if he grew an extra head. Why didn’t you say this before? Lando answered he hadn’t realized, he wasn’t aware of his feelings, eyebrows rising when Max snorted; half mocking, half shocked at Lando’s cluelessness. 

“Mate, you have to be honest with yourself if you even want a fighting chance,” Max knew if he didn’t tell Lando, he’d never be aware or liable of his actions. “Mate, she’s fine now, but it was such a low point, her parents didn’t want me to see her at first because I’m your best mate,”

Lando threw his head back in surprise, squinting, asking Max whatever he meant, because he was well aware of his feelings and what he longed for.  

I cannot be the one to break it to you, mate. Those were Max’s words, and Lando was getting annoyed. 

“Fuck’s sake, Max. what do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? She’s the one who broke up with me!” Lando exclaimed with a raised voice.

Max groaned, an annoyed, i-can’t-believe-i-have-to-be-the-one-who-tell-you-this groan. 

It’s your fucking ego, Lando. It got so fucking big don’t even know how a body as small as yours could handle that incredible vision of yourself when you couldn’t bring yourself to go back home and have some pints together, you didn’t care on calling for our birthdays, we got some fucking McLaren merch you told someone to send us, nothing. Max felt as if he was slowly emptying his chest. 

Lando was shaking his head, the events he was hearing weren’t veridic, Max created a scenario that never happened. 

Max continued, ignoring Lando’s denial.

And we are your friends, (y/n) was your girlfriend. Mate, you forgot about her and she didn’t even have to tell any of us because she was making excuses for you. Of course you were busy, mate, but so was her and you couldn’t care less. Bob, I’m telling you this because you are my best mate, but please hold yourself accountable. Yes, she was the one who announce the break up, but it wasn’t because she wanted to.

Taken aback, trying to come up with a response, Lando realized his walls were crumbling, his heart was aching, his brain was making the connections, bringing back the actions he knew were wrong.

Fuck you, mate. I’m still putting on a good word and try to come up with something, but fuck you, Bob.

Nothing a hug, a pint and Call of Duty couldn’t repair. 

Three weeks went by where Max prepared the field for his friend, making sure every friend was on board, slowly settling ideas on their friends.

We all have free next weekend?

It’s been long since we’ve all hung out together.

We’ve all been studying and working so hard, we deserve to have a little break. 

Do any of you have any ideas?

Lando told me we are all welcome at McLaren for Barcelona, two more weeks. 

That’s when Max’s efforts and intentions were clearer. Lando wanted to make amends or bring back the group? Did he need something? Probably not, it still didn’t make sense. 

Your friends agreed with very little hesitancy, probably assuming if Max was proposing the idea chances were you were in the loop of sharing a space with Lando, especially after the circumstances. 

After everyone left you asked Max why would he put you in that position, knowing being back on the paddock would be full of awkward interactions for you, asking whether or not you were back with Lando, your name being thrown around on social media, strangers paying just a little more attention at you in classes, righ after you’d gotten over it. 

But were you truly over it? The situation, yes. The wave died, only focusing on your well-being, learning to be without him. 

Now, were you over him? Of course not. You missed his teary laugh, his messy curls in the morning, the glint in his eyes when he saw you get off the plane with your bag, the flutter on your stomach whenever he smiled at you, unafraid of letting you know how much he loved you. 

It was two weeks, but felt just like a couple of minutes, boarding a crowded British Airways flight to Barcelona, using the excuse of having too much to study in order to not pay much attention to what was going on, Apple Music choosing the worst song choices for your state of mind.

But God, you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more

I’d say you broke my heart, but you broke much more than that

Now, I don’t want your sympathy I just want myself back

This was a terrible idea, your thoughts of getting up and announcing you didn’t feel so good so the plane couldn’t leave the ground. You weren’t ready to face Lando and all the feelings it’d bring back. 

And don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Ugh, and fuck this song as well. That’s the last thought on your mind before angrily opening a Maltesers family sized bag, preparing your nostrils to feel his perfume again, your hand to touch the soft fabric of his hoodies, your check for the courteous and familiar peck on the cheek. 

The hotel was the same, papaya t-shirts walking all directions before going to the track, with some people not knowing you, others trying to hide their surprise before saying their heys. 

And the rest was a blur, completely. 

He saw you, you saw him. 

Lando put on his best façade, a relaxed expression on his face, usual smile, normal stance. Neither you nor Lando lingered on the first hug, make eye contact after the greeting cheek contact, announcing you’d all go out on Sunday, Carlos would bring some friends and whatever. 

Max expressed his frustration to Lando, noticing he didn’t do anything to even get close to you, with the driver telling his best friend he was paralyzed, his mind betraying him and not letting him think straight; your perfume too familiar, too starved of your touch, too drunk on your voice. But he tried his best, supported by his friends, Carlos patting his back before directing him towards you, using the excuse of you catching up with Isa.

Isa ad her boyfriend quickly fell into a quiet conversation, trying their best to give Lando and you the space required while both of you updated each other on whatever happened since you last saw each other. 

And you were weak. 

Weak for the veins showing on his arms, the grip of his hands on the bottle, the light stubble on his chin, Lando throwing a joke on the only reason behind the light hairs even seeing the light of day was because you weren’t with him because, being honest, you would’ve told him to get rid of it. 

Maybe you wouldn’t fix things, but maybe you could get something from this trip. At least waking up next to him, stepping inside your bubble one more time. 

Crazy stuff how body and soul connect, completely silencing your reasonable head screaming to get away from him, trying to remind you of the tears, the disappointment, the crushed self-esteem, the sleepless nights seeing him with girls who didn’t always look like you. Body on the other hand… was ready to throw it all overboard just to touch his lips again, caress the soft skin, draw the freckles and moles decorating the beautiful canvas called Lando.

That’s why you agreed to leave with him, but little did you know Lando’s thoughts never mimicked yours. He just wanted to walk you to your assigned hotel room, asking if you could talk; maybe now, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a couple of weeks, but he needed to inform you he’d be waiting for the conversation, the uncomfortable heart-to-heart. 

And it happened.

He recounted the facts from his point of view: overwhelming welcome to the historic team, his name thrown around all over, everybody trying to get a bit of him, and in the attempt to please everyone, he neglected you and your history, disrespected the shared love and admiration, destroyed the strong pillars of your entire relationship. 

You chronicled every phase of your process: the denial, anger, adoration, sadness disappointed. How the situation decimated the vision you had of yourself, trying to understand why your heart ached for him still. 

He wasn’t afraid this time to let a few tears run down his beautiful eyes, quick to erase them and hide the quiver on his voice, to tell you he was willing to fight because after not having you, at the short age of twenty, he was sure you were his person, his meant to be. 

You let him kiss you softly; not rushing, not letting your hands wonder over known but forbidden places. With the only purpose of trying to keep up, inform each other of the feelings, the love, adoration and need.

It was like the break up never happened, you were flying and walking next to him during the next GP, kissing his helmet for good luck. You’d never deny the awkward moments when he crossed paths with a regular paddock girl with whom he shared a short time with, but you were able to understand.

The love only grew. 

This time, more mature and secure, no longer with books scattered and messy buns after days and nights of studying, you packed everything and moved to Monaco with him, taking his words to heart: you were his person, his meant to be. 

Then years passed, and what you thought was a more mature relationship, more secure, crumbled down with one simple DM telling you a model was exchanging messages with Lando and were partying together a couple of weeks ago, a little too close.

You never questioned his late nights, inconvenient meetings, new projects. Never once doubted him and his love for you. 

Now you are twenty three.

This break up was different. You were adults; more mature, with more to lose. 

This time he was crying and you were angry; angry as you stared at the kitchen you had carefully chosen the right cutlery, the right shade of beige, the perfect vase. You had jumped, even when he gave you no reason at all to do it, your love for him was that great, sacrificing everything you could think of.

For it to end up like this. 

He was crying. Not that fake crying with soft whimpers and sniffling. No, he was crying. 

Lando was aware of the weight of his mistake, his brain knew the outcome, but his heart was trying to hold on for dear life, working to get a reaction out of you, doing everything in his power to show the desperation trying to crawl off his skin.

How could you? How can you be so selfish, when did you become this sorry excuse of a man who couldn’t tell me to my face you were seeing someone else, you chose to humiliate me. How can you care so little about me that you keep breaking me? What did I do to you to put me in this position? The painful thoughts and reality shaking you and letting  

I am not seeing someone else! Baby, you flinched, yes we were exchanging messages and whatever but it meant nothing. You know a lot of influencers and fucking whatever message me all the time. 

Yes, Lando, and you answer to each one of them. That’s what you told him while rolling your tearful eyes.

I know it was right there, borderline, I didn’t do anything, we just exchanged some messages, she was flirty and yes, I kind of followed along but she always knew I am in a committed relationship.

“Are you trying to make things worse?” That was your honest question, catching his desperation but devastated by the situation. 

She found me. I was hanging with Max and Kelly and she found me, I don’t know how. I held her waist for like ten seconds and then she tried to kiss me and I backed away. Kelly even told her to go away, she even spoke in Portuguese, she can tell you that! 

Stil you some how are not aware of your actions, Lando. Please tell me how you still are the same boy I fell in love you years ago, but not in a good way! you’re immature. Again, once again I’m here, in this fucking position, how am I supposed to get over this? I do not have the strength to get back up from this because you’ve somehow taken everything. 

That was the catharsis, the implosion of your insides, breaking everything it came in contact with. 

At least, this time you were not staying with things to tell him. This time you were letting him carry the burden of fucking things up.

“I gave up England, I gave up festivities with my family because you were tired, created this whole new life because it was convenient for you, your career, your everything and the last, the only thing I asked from you was respect, because it’s not enough for you to love me, you have to respect me and you keep showing me you don’t and it’s heartbreaking because I don’t know how, after all these years…”

The silence was unbearable, your pain was deafening. Lando’s helplessness palpable. 

“I don’t know what to do for you to see everything I do, everything I sacrifice. For you to realize that I’m great, that I am not just a pretty girl for you to show around sometimes. I’m intelligent, I know that I am good,” Now you were choking, the sobs were excruciating even if your words didn’t make sense for Lando, but the feelings were strong your head was spinning.

“Why can’t you see that? Why do you put me in this position, humiliated once again when you are supposed to love me, respect me, cherish me…”

More silence. More desperation. More tearing. 

“Or maybe I don’t deserve that?” You quietly asked him. Because maybe you were the problem, the factor why things failed. Maybe you really were not enough, the image of yourself not real, your love not that important, your presence not very needed.

Lando shook his head and said no, of course not, to please don’t say that. 

“Maybe I have this image of myself and it’s not the truth, because I feel worthless, Lando. All I’ve ever wanted is to be enough for you, to be the person you come home to, and I don’t know why I failed again.”

He cried and denied everything, completely taking the blame, assuming the consequences but trying the last desperate resorts. 

One month later, he was with the girl on a yacht.

Two months later, you saw them entering Lando’s parents house, iron gates opening and letting you catch a glimpse from across the street of your parents’ home.

That was the last time you saw Lando Norris.

At least for now. 

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

cat and mouse with Raphael and Tav for cutie anon (this got way too long im sorry)

Read on AO3

-

Making wagers with a devil were never a good idea, but Tav’s sense of self-preservation had dissolved long before a cosmic tadpole was put in her head. Besides, she had it on good authority (her own) that this particular devil (usually kind of sort of maybe) played fair, and since she was already warming his bed and wetting his cock whenever he wanted, she felt she had little to lose. Still, she’d waited until he was in a good enough mood before she proposed her idea, just in case.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” said Raphael, one fine eyebrow raised, “you want to…play. Yes?”

“Yes,” said Tav, trying not to squirm at the flat, juvenile way he phrased it. He sat squinting behind his desk in his study as she made her sales pitch, as if to say: make me understand why you’re wasting my time. “A cat-and-mouse kind of game, since you’re so fond of that metaphor. I’ll hide somewhere in the house, and you have to find me within a certain amount of time or you lose.”

“And why,” he drawled, though Tav knew him well enough to see he was considering it, had already mentally abandoned whatever he’d been doing, “would I agree to this?”

“Let’s make it a wager. If I win, I get to keep those gauntlets of hill giant strength.”

“Ah, the ones you’ve already put your pilfering hands on several times…” Tav blinked innocently. Raphael tsked. “What do I get when I win?”

She shrugged, ignoring his ‘when’ not ‘if’. “That’s up to you. What do you want?”

The devil smiled at her then, a slow, smouldering thing that lit simmering flames in her belly. Excitement raced through her blood. Therein lay the secret, the thing she truly desired from this game: to be hunted by Raphael, the cambion, the devil she’d chosen as her lover. On some level Tav was certain he knew, and she was also certain it appealed to him just as much. “Hmm…I think I’ll decide my prize when the time comes,” he said, eyes half-lidded. He rose to his full height. Tav experienced a sharp thrill. “Alright, little mouse. You have yourself a wager. Shall we begin?”

“Rules first. I get a five minute head start. If you don’t find me in, let’s say, twenty minutes, I win. And you can’t cheat, either. No using your debtors or tracking and location spells or anything like that. Fair and square.”

“I don’t need to cheat to catch you,” Raphael purred, amused. “I’ll play by your rules, as long as you keep playing by mine and stay out of the places little mice aren’t meant to be. Can you do that?”

“Of course I can.”

“Good girl. Well, then…” He slunk around his desk, gently dragging one claw along its wooden surface, staring at her the entire time. He leaned against it, crossed his arms. Tilted his head. His tail swayed, hypnotic. He was ready to play. Tav’s heart began to thunder. “Time’s ticking, pet. Better start running.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Tav spun on her heel and took off. A nervous, girlish giggle escaped her. She considered if, perhaps, she’d bitten off more than she could chew, but in for a penny in for a pound. She didn’t have a particular hiding spot in mind, aware of her lover’s penchant for reading her mind (no matter how many times she told him not to) and how that technically wasn’t a violation of their rules. Instead she’d be his antithesis right now: chaos.

Her shoes were too loud and slowed her down so she ditched them, the marble warm beneath her bare soles. She thought of him waiting in that study, a panther coiled and eager to prowl; a silhouette in the dark, clever eyes glowing as he counted down the seconds. Her stomach tightened. Anticipation set her teeth on edge. She knew the House of Hope well, but couldn’t match the knowledge of the man who’d designed it. The likelihood of her winning was low, but she’d overcome such dire odds before – and in truth, she didn’t really want to win.

Tav hadn’t been counting, was unsure how long she had left before he began the hunt, but she got as far from Raphael’s study as she could manage, finding a nook behind one of his huge, garish statues to tuck herself into. She knew better than to hunker down. She wouldn’t be staying in one spot. She crouched, sat on her haunches, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

At first, the wait was fun. She was a little breathless, giddy, tense. Every small sound startled her. She expected it to be him, yet he never appeared. She didn’t even hear the distant jingle of his stupid boots, a sign she should move. As time dragged on, Tav’s calves aching, she began to wonder: had she beaten him? Surely not. Maybe he’d juked her, pretended to indulge in her silly game and then left her to squat in a corner like an idiot. That sounded like something he’d do. She frowned, chewing the inside of her cheek, considering her options. She couldn’t tell if twenty minutes had passed.

A cold shiver went up her spine. The tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rose. Tav stiffened, suddenly aware she wasn’t alone. Slowly she turned her head to peer over her shoulder and there he was, perched like a gargoyle in the space behind her, so close she’d touch him if she leaned back just a few inches. His manic grin was all teeth. All fangs. Black and yellow eyes glittered with satisfaction. How long had he been there?

“Meow.”

“Shit!” Tav shrieked. She tumbled onto her ass in shock. The devil cackled, rich and mean. Tav didn’t think; forced herself up on her feet and fled.

“That’s it, little mouse,” Raphael crowed, “run run run, as fast as you can…”

He’d found a way to trigger her fight or flight instinct. Of course he had. Tav’s blood roared in her ears, her heart smashing against her ribs. The devil was in hot pursuit now, his stride quick and powerful, footsteps thumping on the stone.

“Your fear smells delicious, my pet,” he called out. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

Doors closed on their own in front of her, corridors sealed off with magic barriers. The devil was herding her, Tav realised, back to his study where all this began. Where there was nowhere else to run. She came to an abrupt stop, heaving for air. She turned, arousal, exhilaration and dread warring in her mind. Her cunt was wet, nipples hard, knees shaking. This was exactly what she wanted. Her devil loomed in the doorway, savouring his prey. His feast. That hypnotic waving of his tail returned. It meant something in devil body language, Tav knew, but her thoughts were too scattered to recall.

“I guess you win, huh,” she managed. Swallowed a lump in her throat. Raphael didn’t answer immediately; she couldn’t break his intense gaze, couldn’t escape, couldn’t completely place the way he was looking at her. Tav watched him scent the air, realised he was scenting her, the smell of her sex, her excitement. He released a rumble of approval, his cock already hard and tenting his trousers.

“Yes,” he finally said, his voice deep and thick. “And what a delightful little prize I’ve won indeed…”

He approached her with the finesse of a stalking predator, burning with sexual intent.

“Down comes the claw, right?” Tav breathed. The devil smirked. With that claw he effortlessly opened her blouse, a single swipe scattering buttons all over the ground. She gasped. Raphael leered at her breasts, her flush chubby nipples, before he pushed her blouse over her shoulder so he could lick the sweat from her pulse point. Without ceremony he yanked her trousers and her smalls down to her ankles, growling when he felt her slickness and heat on his fingers. Tav sighed when he touched her pussy, but it didn’t last. She was his prize and he would do as he wanted with her.

Raphael splayed her out on his desk, spreading her thighs apart to fit his bulk between them, forcing her to free her feet from her trousers – naked from the waist down while he remained fully dressed. He kissed her deeply, hard, forked tongue licking behind her teeth. One of his hands entwined with hers, their fingers linked, his other unbuckled his belt enough to free his erection. He didn't tease, just guided his cock – nudged her sloppy clit with his leaking glans – and pushed into her. They groaned in unison when he bottomed out. She felt so full. He stayed still for a moment, savouring the hot grip of her cunt. His tail kept swinging to and fro. Tav wrapped her legs around his waist, crossed her ankles at the small of his back. The new angle slid him in deeper, the fat head of his cock nudging the entrance of her cervix.

“So wet,” the devil crooned, “so warm, so tight…”

Then he began to move. Lazy, languid thrusts, if they could be called such when all he did was flex his hips to drag his fat cock in and out the way he liked. Every slick sound of his dick working inside her harmonised with her soft gasps and his rhythmic grunts. He pinned her free hand to the desk, linked those fingers too. Pressed himself flat against her, kissing and biting her damp mouth as they fucked, slow and indulgent. There was something so intimate about it. They'd never had sex this way before. He engulfed her completely. Tav wished they were naked so their skins could touch, the closest they could truly be; the closest she would ever allow him to her soul. Fleshy ridges and soft barbs on his dick snagged and rubbed in every right place. Her nerves were ablaze. He was barely doing anything – this was obviously for his pleasure, not hers – and yet she mewled and gasped into his mouth like a wanton whore each time he re-sheathed himself. She’d already been so wired from their game, and now… She couldn't catch her breath. A first in their relationship, Tav climaxed before Raphael did. Not with a bang, but a scorching whisper; humid and electric, pulsing through her veins, settling in her guts. Her moan was broken, quiet. Her devil swallowed it all.

“Yes,” he hissed, greedy, delighted, “give it to me…”

Her cunt squeezed and contracted, milking his cock for something he was almost ready to offer. Tav trembled, grasping his hands so tightly it would be bone-crushing for a normal man. Raphael seemed to relish it instead, snarling softly, kissing her again and again, sticky lingering brushes of their mouths. He sucked on her tongue, bit it, and she whimpered.

“Such a good girl. Such a sweet little mouse. So pliant. Ripe for the taking. For me to take.” The more he babbled, the closer to orgasm he was. The roll of his hips sped up, hard enough to bounce her breasts if the broad expanse of his chest had given them space. He chased his end almost mindlessly. “You played well, my treasure, but, ah, I always win…mmmm…”

The devil pressed his forehead to hers when he came. Tav got lost in the inky abyss of his eyes, framed by his spreading wings. He stared into her soul, his expression twisted in possessive lust, as he pumped her womb full with spurts of hot cum. You are mine, he declared with every movement, every single thing he did. You are mine. He was beautiful and terrible. She was his. He didn’t pull out, choosing to keep them sealed together, cock-in-cunt, as he softened. He rested in her arms, nuzzled her neck – mindful of his horns. His panting eventually melted into strange raspy purrs, and as she freed their hands to stroke his hair, Tav realized with gentle dawning horror that she loved him.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

We've created a Monster Pt.II

Diavolo laughed at the screen of his DDD, hurriedly gesturing for Barbatos to join him.

'Come see this, Barbatos, Lucifer just shared the most delightful video!'

'I'm sure it must be of great importance for you to neglect your paperwork, my lord.'

Sheepishly, Diavolo turned to screen toward him, presenting the still image of an envy demon dwarfing their powerless exchange student.

'Oh my, lord this image is far from amusing.'

'Trust me, just press play.'

So he did, and was very much not expecting what came next. 'I see, it seems MC has grown rather more capable than I gave them credit for.'

'According to Lucifer they were rather unbothered by the threat, he even called a family meeting to address the event and MC just...laughed them off?'

Barbatos couldn't help but smile. 'How remarkable, expected though. MC has seen demons far more frightening than a lesser envy demon.'

'That's what they said to the brothers, though Lucifer seems to find it far less amusing than we do.'

'I imagine, it is not the sort of scenario he would find at all pleasant. Threat to our young human cause him a great deal of unrest.'

Diavolo grinned a conspirator's smile. 'Just him?'

'...fair point.'

'Why are the incantations so long? I'm trying to light a candle not summon a hurricane.' MC huffed, slouching into the armchair with the grimoire laid open across her thighs. 'It's like a religious text.'

'Magic's way of making sure you mean to get what you're asking for.' Solomon's smile was beguiling, almost sweet, but not.

He's a menace, and no one knows that better than MC, who's been taking magical instruction for him for months.

The sorcerer crossed his legs, flipping through a new spell book MC brought over from Satan. 'So, I hear you had some fun at RAD this morning.'

MC rolled their eyes, reluctantly going back to memorising incantations. 'You too? Does the entire Devildom know about that by now?'

'I'd say so, everyone who matters at least. We haven't told Luke, poor thing would loose his mind if he had actual proof of how dangerous the devildom really is for you.'

'I'm not in any danger, you're starting to sound like Lucifer.' MC huffed. 'Next thing I know you'll be off on a lecture about my lack of self preservation and needing to be careful.'

'I would never, watching you get in trouble is my favourite pass time.' He winked teasingly, kicking his shows up on the coffee table. 'I am curious though, what was going through your head when he threatened you? I remember being a little intimidated the first time a demon tried to kill me.'

'I'm honestly surprised you remember your first anything anymore.'

'Don't change the subject.' Tutted Solomon with that congenial smile of his that was neither friendly nor threatening. 'What were you thinking?'

MC sighed, closing the grimoire and turning their attention to the plate of cookies Luke left for them. 'It was annoying, I went into RAD early to get ahead on a project I was supposed to be working on with Simeon. Could have expected that reaction when I told him Levi wears envy way better. That time he tried to kill me gave me nightmares for days.'

'...MC, how many times have those lunatics nearly killed you?'

'Pfft, you think I keep count? Between Beel's tantrums, Mammon's schemes and just existing in Lucifer's radius I nearly die at least twice a week. It was way more when I first met them though.'

Solomon had to resist the urge to gape. His sense of normal may be a few thousand years past twisted, but this is... odd even for him. A human this young should not be this comfortable with domestic danger, let alone love those who put them there.

Several, times, a week.

MC carries on eating their cookies happily, reaching for another one when their eye catches something on the table, half hidden behind a book, but that beastly silhouette is unmistakeable, and they immediately curl into the chair as though they've been burned.

Pitching a whine to alert the house, their wide eyes fixate on the eight legged monstrosity, arms coiled tight around themselves as their skin immediately begins to crawl and twitch as though being assaulted by hundreds of the tiny beasts.

'What?! What is...oh, hello there.'

Solomon is almost left a aghast all over again. Here sits the most desensitised human he's ever met (besides himself), curled up in a ball, over a spider.

Fair be it a decent sized spider, probably the size of his thumb, but a mere spider nonetheless.

'You looked a 20-foot snake in the eye, you take Cerberus for evening walks with Lucifer...' he trailed off, carefully nudging the arachnid into an empty glass and caging it with a book '...and you're afraid of a spider?'

'Fuckin' right I am! And I'm not going to justify it to you so get rid of it before I set you on fire!'

Solomon laughed, and laughed until he couldn't hold himself upright anymore, wiping a tear from his eye, but when next he looked up, MC was still staring at the spider, eyes so full of genuine terror and brimming with tears, he felt guilt strike him.

'This...genuinely frightens you, doesn't it?'

MC nodded, lip jutted in an involuntary pout, skin raised in goose bumps. 'I wish it didn't.'

'Alright, I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it.'

And he did, and made a point of making sure everyone knew about MC's phobia, and didn't make fun of them for it.

Was it ironic that someone who looked death in the eye and waved was afraid of spiders? Absolutely, but no one chooses fear over comfort, and MC has chosen to be brave one too many times for anyone to begrudge them one or two irrational fears.

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part four

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

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tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the songs in this chapter are "anything (demo)" and "Special Girl", both by Dodie !!

a/n: this is short today i know, but big things are coming! we just needed a bit more setup first :) i'm so excited!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

Billy had no idea your shows started as early as they did. In the two shows of yours he had had the pleasure of sitting in on, he had arrived after the sunset. So tonight, this time armed with your explicit invitation, he came while the sky was still orange and the sun was still peeking over the hillsides.

But there you were, strumming away on the stage already. He was hoping to get the chance to talk to you beforehand, but apparently, his opportunity was lost. Luckily, though, it wasn't as busy as it would be come nightfall. He could hear you a little clearer without so many people talking or shouting over poker games. For now, it seemed almost like you were playing for yourself, more so than for patrons of the saloon.

You had pulled up a stool from the bar onto the stage, and you had that guitar resting on your knee, staring intently at the strings as you plucked cord after cord from the instrument.

Billy could play, kind of, but he'd never heard it sound so beautiful.

"'Cause anything, anything, for another run with you..."

Your voice is soft and much quieter than he knew it to be, but it held onto the emotion behind the words. Your voice and your guitar seemed to mold into one, and he wondered if this song was about your friend. It must be.

Tonight he's less intent on hiding by the bar and getting a drink, more so on listening, really listening to you, so he goes over to the corner closest to the stage and sits, taking his hat off and resting it on the wooden surface while he listens.

You glance up at his now familiar silhouette for just a moment while he moves across the room, smiling a little to yourself before putting your focus back onto the guitar in your hands.

When the evening crowd rolled in, comprised almost entirely of the older male population of the city, you picked up the pace a bit. You picked your music mostly on the fly to match the audience, and especially with Billy in attendance, you wanted something at least a little more fun than sad.

You knew this song sounded better with the steady thrum of Max's base or the kid's little rhythmic snaps and drum beats, but on the guitar all alone, when you really gave it your all, it was still a crowd-pleaser.

"It's not my fault, I was raised by open mouths and teary eyes.

Passive, wistful lullabies."

You start, hitting the strings a little harder than you typically would, your smile growing beyond what it had been so far this evening.

"I found my worth in this world by proving I'm a special girl

Time, and time, again."

You always accentuate it with a wink, this time ignoring the whistles of attendees scattered at poker tables and smoking in corners to look over at Billy.

He wants to laugh, and you can see it even in the poor lighting and under the shadow of his hat.

Hopping down from the old and rickety stage that only sat a few extra inches off the ground, you crouch down to collect the change that made up the small tips in your open guitar case, resigning to counting it later in order to be polite. Your set had gone well, and you couldn't help but be in a bit of higher spirits than you were yesterday.

Having Billy there, even unsure what to consider him, made you feel just a little less alone. Someone who knew your story, at least a glimpse of it, made the already dim lights feel a little less blinding. Friend or not.

"Hey, girl." A rough voice calls from behind you, accompanied by heavy footfalls across the less-than-steady floors of the saloon.

With a small exhaled sigh and a roll of your closed eyes, you turn around and stand up after snapping shut your guitar case with the instrument carefully stored in it. "Hey there, enjoy the show?" You asked distractedly, turning to face the owner of the voice.

"Could say that." The man chuckles, giving a small shrug in response.

"Glad to hear it. Now if ya don't mind-" You try to dismiss yourself quickly as he stares you up and down, the look behind his eyes as he rubs his dirty palms over the scruff of his untamed beard making you want to cringe.

"Hey, hey, slow down. Let me buy you a drink." He stops you with an arm across your chest.

"I don't drink." You reply with a bitter and polite smile, gently pushing his hand down and away from you.

"Ah, so you do think you're some 'special girl', huh?" He replies through a laugh that's less than friendly. "Too good to even share a drink with a man who's offerin' somethin' kind to ya?"

Your expression hardens and your grip on the closed guitar case tightens, preparing subconsciously to swing it at him if you had to. It wouldn't be the first time. "Listen, mister, I-"

"Hey, that's enough." A familiar voice is one to cut you off, Billy's taller frame stepping in front of the man and cutting your view of him off. "Let the lady leave in peace if that's what she wants, aye?"

He's got one hand braced over his holster, and your eyes can only stay locked on it for a moment before the man bothering you speaks again.

"Aye." He agrees with a sigh, shocking you as he takes a small step back, eyes narrowed at Billy. "Just didn't take her much for a prude, that's all."

"Come on, let's get ya out of here, darlin'." Billy mutters, turning and bracing a hand on your back to guide you out.

His hand is still over the handle of his gun at his side as he does a quick scan of the room, seeing if anybody else is interested in speaking up about you.

The sudden tension in the saloon is palpable, and it just makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up as you step outside, even more eager than before to leave as you walk past his wanted poster on the wall. Just like always, you don't bother to look at anything posted on the walls.

The first few minutes of the walk are quiet, with Billy by your side and his horse in tow.

"Thanks." You speak quietly after a while. As much as you wanted to insist you could handle yourself, you were grateful you didn't have to this time around.

"You're not goin' around alone anymore." Billy replies, his tone more hard than you expected. "I'll be keeping an eye on ya from now on. And when you play from here on out, I'll make sure you don't walk away with less than ten dollars in your pocket. Sound fair?"

You look up at him, expression softening a bit as he offers to stick with you. "Don't you... have family of your own? A job? Somethin' you gotta hold onto?"

He chuckles at that. "Never been much of the stay-in-one-place type," he answered, his anger dissipating alongside the words. "I usually ride from town to town, finding work where there is any. Hell, I've been working as a bounty hunter, as a ranch hand, even as a guard for a train before. Been pretty much all over the place." The lie falls from his lips so smoothly that you don't question it for even a moment.

"I can't pay ya, if you're gonna be some kinda bodyguard." You reply with a sigh, shaking your head slightly. "I appreciate the offer, though. But I'm fine just fine on my own."

"You got robbed last time you were on your own, and that dirtbag could'a hurt ya." He pointed out firmly. "You're gonna have a bodyguard from here on out, it ain't safe for you to travel about all alone. I don't care how you pay me. It can be in drinks, a bed for a night, or it can be you singing me a song every night. But you'vegotta be guarded." Billy says, voice almost pleading. He couldn't stand the thought of you out wandering the west alone like this.

"I can pay in music." You smile, nodding at him. "And when I play, the bar owners usually set me up with somewhere to sleep. You can stay with me, take the beds."

His smile brightened, and his heart swelled with delight at the thought of you sitting by the campfire, singing that damn pretty voice of yours to him every night.

And for you, the appeal of having company was hard to resist. You've been robbed twice in just a matter of months, and if that were the beginning of a depressing pattern, you would never save up enough to get the kids back. Not to mention it did get kind of lonely.

"Sound's like a deal." He agrees with a curt nod, a small grin tugging at his lips. He had no intention of taking your earned beds from you- he'd be more than happy to sleep on the floor. As long as he was by your side now, he didn't much mind a single thing.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[heyclickadee]

Okay, a few thoughts on the trailer now that I’ve collected my thoughts a bit:

1. Between the shots of the crashed ship and Omega in the cockpit, it’s looking like a self-rescue on Omega’s part. At this point I’m thinking she gets herself and Crosshair out, and then, based on the shots of Cross with the batch, gets separated from him at some point. He rejoins the batch, and she is…somewhere else. Though I don’t know if that means she goes back to Tantiss.

2. It’s entirely possible that she gets got by one of the bounty Hunters in the trailer, and that’s what separates her from Crosshair.

3. I do think that it is Crosshair in the armor, but other possibilities include: one, Tech, who may not have his own armor anymore and needed to wear something protective on short notice, and; two, Hunter’s having a real bad time and is actually hallucinating Crosshair being with them. I don’t think that’s the case though—I think it really is Crosshair.

4. It’s also possible that those shots with Crosshair are from a little later on in the season.

5. Poor Omega’s going to be in Tantiss for months.

6. I swear Hunter looks like he’s lost weight. Like. I know a lot of the fandom is deep in the Crosshair and Tech are twins sauce (and honestly, I am too, I adore that head-canon and basically think if it as canon), but darn it if Hunter isn’t getting so drawn he’s starting to look a little like Crosshair.

7. I find it weirdly amusing that the half the trailer in which the bad batch actually features is mostly taken up by Hunter and Wrecker doing Adventure Man things. I get the sense they were scrounging to find shots of the batchers that weren’t massively spoilery (and they still put those shots of Crosshair in. Which, admittedly, is one of the things that makes me slightly suspicious of that being Crosshair at all, because that could be a misdirect, but only slightly).

8. I’m going to laugh if it turns out that Cid hired all of the bounty hunters we see to find Omega. Like, if that’s what she uses the money she got from Hemlock for, and she’s basically trying to get Omega out of the situation she got Omega into and goes a little overboard on the means.

9. Ventress! I’ll be honest, Ventress has never been at the top of my favorite character list, though I’ve warmed up to her quite a bit (I used to like the idea of her more than the execution), but I always love Nika Futterman’s performance, and I’m intrigued to see Ventress here at the very least. Because. How. She was very dead. Very, very dead. Not “fell into The Mists” dead—she had a funeral after being dead for months. My only thoughts are that were either seeing her in a flashback sequence that takes place before Dark Disciple, or it turns out that nightsisters can use their force magic to do some weird shit after getting hit by lightning. Either way, I don’t think she’s fighting Wrecker and Hunter here—that’s just some misleading editing.

10. Man, I hope Hemlock dies a lot.

11. Anyway, speaking of the dead and those back from it, Tech is so alive and I’m trying to not be the Smuggest of Gremlins until we for sure see him, but jeez are they making that difficult. (I checked the trailer release blurb on the Star Wars dot com page—it doesn’t mention Tech being dead. It just says the team is “scattered” after the events of season two. Like. Guys, you’re not even trying anymore.)

12. And more on Tech, I do think it’s possible—possible, mind you—that Tech is the guy we see in the clone X armor in front of what looks like the Archium. There are some small differences between that armor and both the armor we see on Clone X in season two, and the Clone X we see speaking later in the trailer—namely, the shoulder straps, what looks like a glass visor covering the two eyeholes, and *sigh* the pouches. And it’s the straps and the pouches that are giving him a bit more of a Tech-ish silhouette—especially the pouches, and especially from behind. If it is Tech, though, I don’t think it’s a brainwashed Tech at all (and honestly, it’s the pouches that make me lean towards not brainwashed if it is Tech in there, because a shin pouch is just a very Tech-and-not-blank-slate thing to wear).

I actually think it’s more likely that it’s Tech in disguise and having taken the armor from the Clone X we see later in the trailer (with some adjustments of his own), and that that’s what’s being referred to by the titles “Infiltration” and “Extraction;” Tech infiltrating imperial forces, and then the others having to get him (and probably the people of Pabu) out. And, if that’s the case, I’m banking on these shots being from the midseason. (I know I said I wasn’t going to speculate on the episode titles. That was aspirational.)

Basically, I could be persuaded that it’s Tech in there or that it’s not. I’m less likely to be persuaded that it’s a brainwashed Tech in there—I still don’t think that’s happening.

12. Whether that is Tech in that armor or not, I do think that the clone X we see speaking in the trailer isn’t the same guy in the armor in the Archium shot.

13. I am SO HAPPY to see Phee back THANK GOODNESS. I was a little worried they’d drop her like a rock, but nope! She’s here! She’s got her cool jacket! We see her ship!

14. There is a criminally small amount of Echo in the trailer, but I’m not giving up on seeing more of him. It’s possible that he’s either a walking spoiler, or that he features a little more heavily in the back half of the season.

15. “The Cavalry Has Arrived” is the most optimistic episode title in the whole damn show and, yes, I will die on this hill.

16. Crosshair. Oh, Crosshair. Someone please save him immediately.

17. There’s a lot of early doom panic around, well, everyone and everyone (especially Hunter) dying that I’m honestly going to ignore going forward. For reasons.

[soscarlett1twas]

Midnight Church Bells

↳ Andrew and his brother sneak out. ↳ 2k words / also available on ao3! ↳ This fic is literally a year old lmao?? I was sorting through docs and found this finished draft, so I polished it a bit and here we are. Please forgive past me if the prose is... how we say 'shit'.

The holidays always snuck up on Andrew the same - sudden and unwelcome, but inevitable. This year, he’d been too invested in his studies, and, surprisingly, his own love life to notice much of withering leaves or decorations, but when he turned on the radio and heard those familiar jingles, he groaned in recognition. 

Really, it was none of those things (despite how much he did tire of those songs) that bittered Christmas for him. It was the fact that once the break started, his family would come calling. And despite all protests, his parents would never let him stay at college during the advent. 

“It’s time for the Lord.” His mother’s voice lifted through the phone he propped up on his dashboard. “And family,” she added after a moment. He resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel, instead opting for biting his tongue. The one time his parents didn’t want him studying. 

Her saying that added to the sting of the season. And family. It seemed that this was the only time of year where that was on her mind. 

Which all led him to the same spot he was every December 24th: Sitting on his childhood bed, with whatever book he was currently reading in his hands, and classical music playing from his phone. 

Reclining into his pillow, Andrew lifted his glasses off and put them on the bedside table, a thumb folding the wings as the other worked as a bookmark. 

Yet he didn’t close his eyes. For one of those brief moments in life, he wasn’t thinking, or sleeping, or doing really anything at all. He was just there, in a limbo between sleep and consciousness, hoping that if he purposely derived himself the next day wouldn’t come as quickly.

And he stayed like that for 5 minutes. Or maybe it was 10, or maybe no time passed at all. But eventually he gave in to rest. No matter what, the morning would come and he’d rather not fall asleep during the already tedious sermons in church. So he set an alarm, put his book on the nightstand, and laid down.

He closed his eyes, and it was like he could hear the ringing already. 

Maybe he did.

A soft patter-ing rang just outside his door, the familiar sound of footsteps on carpet blotting the silence. And just as he was about to roll over, Andrew heard his door creak open, and the silhouette of a man leaned into the room. 

“Want to go on a walk?” He whispered, twinged with a sense of boredom. 

Andrew didn’t even need to turn to know who was asking. “Give me a moment,” he sighed, and motioned to push himself off the bed. 

—

“How did you know I was awake?” Andrew asked, still pulling his overcoat over his arms. 

“Your light was on, I saw it through your door.” His brother responded, turning off their driveway onto the sidewalk. He was slightly ahead of Andrew, but slowed a bit so that they were walking together. 

A cloud of mist formed from his breath as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulling the coat closer to himself to save some of his last remaining body heat. A near-midnight flit wasn’t what he had planned, but he’d prefer it than trying to sleep. Besides, this may be the only quality time he could spend with his twin during the break. God knows the time they’ve spent at college has already distanced them enough. 

“So,” he huffed, searching for a topic of conversation. “How have you been?” 

“Fine. Uni’s been beating my ass though - we spent practically the entire week leading up to the holidays in the lab, just sweating over our assignments. Jesus, I’m not even a Biochem major but Chemistry is just not letting up.”

It had been years since he was in a lab, but with the track he was on, he got the stress with ‘crunch time’. “I understand. I’ve recently had to rush a project for my Literary Theory course.” 

“What do you even do in that class?” He questioned, half serious, half mocking. 

“Analyze texts, find out how the culture of the author influenced their works.” He could go on: Literary Theory was one of his favorite classes, no matter how rigorous the course was, but he knew his brother wouldn’t care to hear the details. 

Winding down their street, the two carried on talking about academia with a partial interest, not fully understanding either’s field of study but trying to be supportive anyways. Soughing wind bent branches to a static beat as they approached the neighborhood's egress. By and by they were talking about the more social aspects of their schooling: Andrew’s literature club, the parties either rarely attended, his brother’s friends.

“How has your roommate been?” Andrew asked, kicking a rock under his shoe and watching it roll along the concrete. 

“Good.” He sighed out a laugh. “He’s great, actually.”

Andrew glanced over to his brother, and if the slight warmth in his voice wasn’t enough, the red on his cheeks told him everything he needed to know. He chuckled too, and gave a soft nudge on his shoulder, making them both smile. 

In a weird way, they never needed to tell eachother about any of this stuff. Equal parts the awkwardness that surrounded telling your sibling, your twin of all people, who you were interested in and an unspoken alliance against their parents had kept them from ever openly speaking it. But Andrew knew his brother was into guys ever since they were teens, he just didn’t know if his brother had caught on to his own preferences yet.

The stone made a sharp sound as it drifted over to his brother, who promptly kicked it back to Andrew with the inside of his shoe. 

“Helios, right?” 

His brother hummed in response. 

His mind trailed to the man at his college, the one who he had desperately wanted to introduce to him, and found himself grinning at the mere thought. God, he hoped Isaac would like his brother. 

He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. What would he even say? He trusted his brother, but to come out was something entirely different, and with Christmas just around the corner? No, he’d wait. Right after, though, he’d tell him. Andrew silently swore it to himself. 

“Honestly, I prefer the dorms to the house.” 

That snapped Andrew out of his thinking. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” He stopped abruptly, and threw his arms out in exasperation. “Isn’t it suffocating to you too?” 

Everytime he was in his room, Andrew could only remember the sleepless nights he spent hunched over and studying. The dining table was a barrage of moments he spent silent as his parents and brother fought. The living room was a danger zone, as he never wanted to catch his parents when they were disappointed in his brother, or worse, him. The whole house could burn down and the only memories that would go with it were the most futile. Worse was, even without flames, Andrew felt like he wadded through smoke every time he was in those walls.

He silently nodded his head. His brother just stared at him, as if he wanted voice confirmation. But how can one speak up against the pyre when its fumes had already scorched his vocal cords? 

After a moment, his brother kept walking, and Andrew followed. “I contemplated not coming back this winter.” He muttered.

“As did I.” Andrew responded, suddenly getting his voice back. 

“What could you possibly be avoiding?” 

A million and one answers filled his head, but none escaped him - no matter what he said, not a single one would measure up to his brother's reasons. So why even bother trying to compare? 

His twin huffed as he turned away, suddenly gaining some distance on Andrew, and he let him keep it. 

For a while, the only sound they made was their shoes against concrete sidewalks and the crunch as they occasionally had to step into snow. Andrew brought his hands up to his face, cupping them to breathe and warm himself up. Normally he kept gloves in his pockets, just in case. But, of course, he just had to forget them tonight. His fingers combed through his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead at his brother's back. Again, he bit his tongue. But wasn’t that what had gotten him into this situation, unintentionally pushing his brother away by not talking? He didn’t understand it, but only continuing the cycle wasn’t going to help anything. 

So he opened his mouth, just in time to slam right into his brother. 

He stumbled, but his brother didn’t flinch. Or even look at Andrew. His eyes remained trained to the tree line, frozen in place. 

Regaining his footing, Andrew tried again. “Dar-“

“Stop.” He whispered.

“No, D-“  

“Shut up, Andrew, just listen.” 

So he did. 

For a few seconds, he didn’t hear anything. His eyes fell where his brother’s were focused, though without his glasses, the details were fuzzy. 

Then, a distant chime hit his ear. 

More followed. 

A symphony of church bells rang, each peal like a glimmer in the air. 

Andrew knew they rang the bells at midnight every Christmas Eve, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard them. During mass, he could imagine it would be unbearable. But from here? The sound was quite pleasant. 

As the bells continued, the twins stood there, listening to it all. Andrew was the first to tear his eyes away from the church he couldn’t see, glancing over at his brother through the corner of his eye. It was the first good look he had gotten at him in a long time. 

Andrew hadn’t realized how short a decade was. Though in context of anything else, the last ten years of his life had dawdled. But with his brother? It was like the blink of an eye. One moment they were running and laughing, a mirror image of one another - even the Christmas’ were tolerable. Fun, even. The next, blooming into adulthood - mimics of who they used to be.

In fact, the longer he looked at him, Andrew realized just how much his brother had changed. His hair had definitely grown, locked into a short ponytail that hung low with swooping bangs, and he made the full switch to contacts some time ago. He even got taller, and next to Andrew, he was a lofty inch or two higher. Though that could also be accredited to the boots he wore. (Ashamed to say, Andrew didn’t remember when or how he got them. They certainly weren’t a gift from their parents, but did his brother even have a job to afford them?) He was more muscular, which wasn’t saying much compared to Andrew, but he was certainly leaner. The man never made a mention of continuing his secondary school athletics, but maybe he did as an extracurricular? Again, Andrew was straining to remember specifics. Though, he supposed any reason to play was now null, as originally it was a brilliant excuse to come home late without his parents accusing him of deviancy. 

But he wasn’t too alien to him. There was something still familiar to him, like flecks of gold shining through, no matter how small. After all, they began to sneak out when they were fourteen and are still doing it now. There must be something that still connected them. 

Right?

Just as he had that thought, he missed his brother's pass, and the pebble went flying into a curb. 

They walked in silence for a while longer, bells fading to the wind. Eventually they found themselves back on their driveway, and their silence became deafening as they lightened their footsteps. God knows what their parents would do if they found out they had been out so late.

They followed one another up the stairs, crossed the same hallway, and went to rooms adjoining. There was a time they shared one, but that was before they had moved. 

Andrew slipped open his door, the knob turning slowly as to mute itself. As he slipped in, he turned half-way to see his brother doing the same.

His brother looked up, catching his gaze. 

Andrew saw himself in the reflection of his eyes. They were bitter, burning with… not rage. But a violent form of disappointment. 

Andrew was the center of it. And he could smell the smoke wafting.