#and i still need to put sheets on my bed which is absolutely my least favorite chore ever by far
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Pillow Talk*
Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.
Word Count: 7.2k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Come on. Just one time.”
“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”
You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it.
“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”
You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”
“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”
You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine.
But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.
“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”
There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.
You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.
Or maybe it won’t.
But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.
So, with that thought…you open the door.
He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.
And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.
He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.
“What?” you huff.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”
“Okay…?”
“You changed your hair.”
“Yeah.”
“Hm. It’s nice.”
You cross your arms. “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.
“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.
“Right, yeah.”
“Okay.”
You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.
When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Why?”
Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”
He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”
“I don’t care.”
He smiles. “I know.”
“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”
Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”
“Never thought I’d have to say it.”
“Mm. You changed your mattress.”
“Obviously.”
“And the sheets and blankets, too.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”
“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”
“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s nice.”
“Bite me.”
He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”
“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions.
You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.
And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”
You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”
“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”
“Yeah. I know.”
More quiet.
“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence.
Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”
“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”
“Right.”
“And I just figured—”
“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.
The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.
“What?” you eventually hiss.
“Are you dating someone?” he asks.
“What?”
“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”
You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”
“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”
“Why does it matter?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”
“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”
“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”
Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”
His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”
You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”
“Vanilla?”
Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”
“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”
You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”
“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”
“Yeah? And?”
“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”
Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”
“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”
“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”
“So he’s not vanilla?”
“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”
“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”
“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”
Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”
“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”
“So what he’d do?”
“Harry—”
“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”
“Ew, no—”
“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”
You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”
“And…?”
“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”
“Sure.”
Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”
Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”
“I guess. It could have been worse.”
“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”
You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”
“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”
“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”
He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”
You turn back. “What?”
“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”
“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”
“Poppy—”
“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”
“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”
“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”
“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”
“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”
“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”
You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”
He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”
“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”
“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”
“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”
He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”
“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”
“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”
“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”
“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”
“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”
“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”
“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”
“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”
“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”
“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”
He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.
Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.
But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.
Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.
He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.
The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.
He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say.
His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.
“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”
You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”
He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”
“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”
Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.
He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.
Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.
However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.
“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”
You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”
“Hm. Don’t push it.”
“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?”
“Maybe.”
“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”
“…not exactly.”
“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”
“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.
“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”
“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”
He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”
He smirks. “How romantic.”
“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”
So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.
Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over.
He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.
And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out.
Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.
He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.
You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.
But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?
There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment.
Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh.
And just like that…
It’s over.
You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.
He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.
Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”
You blink. “Um…okay.”
He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”
The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”
“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”
“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.”
“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”
“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”
“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”
“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”
He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”
“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”
“I was taking care of myself—”
“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”
“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”
“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”
He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”
“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”
He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”
You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”
His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”
You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”
His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.
“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”
“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”
You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”
“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”
And deep down…you know he’s right.
“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”
Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.
Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.
So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit.
You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.
Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.
And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.
“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”
“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”
“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”
“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”
“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”
You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”
“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”
“Harry. Come on. I know you.”
“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”
You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”
“No?” He grins. “Why not?”
“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”
He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”
You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”
He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”
You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one.
He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.
Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy.
“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”
“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”
“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”
You pout. “Mhm.”
He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle.
And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment.
“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.
“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”
You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.
He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon.
But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.
You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.
“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.
You glance up.
“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”
You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”
“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”
“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”
He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”
“You used to make me happy.”
The soft strokes against your spine slow.
“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”
“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”
You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.
But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.
“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”
“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.”
“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”
More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.
And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”
You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”
“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”
Another pause. You don’t know what to say.
“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”
You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”
“Did we?”
“Harry…”
“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”
“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”
“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”
“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”
He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.
But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.
“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”
You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat.
“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”
His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”
You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.
You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.
“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further.
He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”
You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.
His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”
It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”
“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”
You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”
He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”
“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”
He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”
You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”
“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”
“Oh, you did, huh?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”
You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”
“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”
“We did indeed.”
“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”
“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”
“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”
“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”
“And does it work?”
“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”
He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”
“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”
“I imagine you, too.”
You blink. “You do?”
“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”
You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”
He smiles. “Yeah.”
The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop.
Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.
Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent.
Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.
Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.
The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.
He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.
You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.
You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot.
You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave.
And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.
You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.
Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.
But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.
“Make me a deal,” you whisper.
He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”
“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”
His eyes open.
“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”
He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.
Even if it’s just as friends.
Exes.
Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.
His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.
You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.
You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open.
You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.
And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Good morning, Poppy.”
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry
#harry#harry styles#harry edward styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan#harry styles smut#harry styles request#harry styles concept#smut#concept#soft dom!harry#nsfr#ex!harry#exes to lovers#harry and poppy#angst
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Bad Idea, Right? - Part 6
Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter
Eris and Y/N seem to have a knack for putting themselves in unsavory situations. Bonus: Eris has a flashback to the night they met.
Part 4 Part 5 Part 7
Warnings: Alcohol, Language, Attempted SA
Oh gods. I rolled over slowly only to be met with a wave of nausea and a killer headache. I blinked several times, enough to bring the bedside table into view where a glass of water and a hangover tonic awaited me - at least I had the foresight to brace myself for the impending hell that awaited me after such an intoxicating night out.
It was an effort to pull my arm out from beneath the covers of my bed - which felt so much softer and warmer than usual. I drank a few sips of water and the tonic quickly cured the unease in my stomach but the remnants of the headache still remained. My impetuous little shadows tugged at me to get out of bed but it was just so comfortable - tuning them out I yanked my comforter over my head and drifted back asleep.
——————
Eris
Eris started awake as Y/N roused slightly from her sleep, just enough to find the tonic he’d left on his bedside table for her. Several hours ago, he’d settled in a lounge chair on the opposite side of the bed after she’d spent an hour with her head in the commode, alternating between heaving and berating him for being a “shady motherfucker” all while he held her silken hair back and rubbed soothing circles on her back.
Once she’d completely emptied herself of both the contents of her stomach and insults, she insisted she needed to bathe herself - managing to stumble into the bath tub with her clothes still on and demand “something fried and something bubbly, good sir.”
She refused to undress so he could fill the tub, so he left her there to her own devices while he torched some breaded chicken tenderloins in the kitchen - his fire power really came in handy in times like this - where a five foot whatever heathen was demanding sustenance ASAP. “High Lord my ass.” He mumbled to himself as he carried a tray of seltzer water and her fried chicken into the bathroom… where she was sound asleep in the tub.
Good lord, what had he gotten himself into with this beautiful mess. The mother only knew.
So he’d carried her to the bed, feeling a bit sleazy for changing her out of her dress while asleep but it was either let her rest in a liquor and vomit splattered dress that did everything for her curves and absolutely nothing for comfort… or change her out of it and into one of his cotton tees. Perhaps his male ego beamed slightly at the thought of her sleeping in his shirt but he assured himself that her comfort was his top priority.
He warmed the sheets using his fire magic and tucked her in before setting out the tonic and settling in on the lounge.
————————-
Y/N
When I reawoke, it must have been hours later. Whoever came in and opened the curtains could go to hell as the sunlight filtering in assaulted my eyes.
“Mother’s tits.” I groaned out as I stretched, careful not to turn my head too quickly in an effort of staving any sudden returns of nausea or shooting pains from the headache.
As my eyes slowly began adjusting to the damned sunlight, three things stood out. One: my shadows were swirling in front of me and intertwining with my fingers excitedly. Two: Someone was….cooking? In my bedroom. And as my vision fully cleared, three: This wasn’t my room, it was a fucking studio apartment.
“Owww.” I whined as I turned my head toward the direction of whatever greasy delight was cooking only to see red hair pulled up into a bun, a glorious muscular bare back hindered only by the tie of an apron, and delicious toned legs exposed by cloth shorts hemmed at the mid-thigh.
Mother’s tits indeed. Just when I thought the bastard couldn’t get any hotter.
An opportunist, traitor of a shadow shot away from me, caressing his arm as it handled a pan on the stove.
“Morning sunshine.” Eris purred, not even turning to look at me.
I scrunched my nose, lowering my tone into that of disgust - a futile effort to appear unphased by the sight before me “Why are you here? And where the fuck are we?”
“Always a pleasure to see you too, little one. Breakfast first?”
I desperately wanted to object but the bacon he was cooking smelled delicious and fuck if he didn’t look delicious too.
“Whatever.” I muttered, rolling my eyes at either his ability to tolerate whatever I threw at him or myself for being so internally captivated by the half-naked high lord cooking breakfast for me.
He didn’t need to turn around for me to feel the smirk forming on his lips as he began plating our food.
Breakfast was….. silent. Eris sat in a chair watching me with mischief in his eyes and I did my best to focus on the borderline ecstasy inducing combination of grease and whatever smokey, apple seasoning he’d flavored the bacon with.
After a long ‘bout of silence I finally gave in to his game. “Alright Eris,” His name rolled off my tongue like more honey and less venom than intended. “I’ll bite. Where are we anyway? And how?”
“I told you last night, little love. We’re at my apartment.”
Hazy memories rolled back just a bit. A blur of red, a steadying arm, and-
“In Velaris?”
“Is it so shocking that I invest my funds into properties. How many palacial homes do Rhysand and Feyre have now? More than three, yes?”
I crossed my arms. A bit like a petulant child, yes, but it did the trick as it shelved my breasts perfectly enough that Eris was caught off guard. Good.
I leaned forward, the gap in the neck of my - his shirt allowing a glimpse of the unclothed breasts beneath.
“Quit deflecting.” biting my lip, I leaned in a bit closer tracing a finger along his jaw, over the stubble shadowing the sharp angles of it, my palm then meeting his cheek just lightly enough to make his eyelids flutter as he leaned into it.
A fresh wave of the hangover nausea churned through my stomach causing me to tense, slightly drawing back and breaking the trance I had him in.
Eris tsk’d “Uh uh, clever girl.” His eyes darkened as that stupid, perfect sly smirk of his crossed over his features. “You won’t seduce answers from me, though I do love to see you try.” Letting out a sigh that I could have sworn was a bit condescending he continued, “Had you not ghosted me following our delightful night after Starfall, you’d have known.”
“Perhaps Eris, had you not kept information from me and threatened MY High Lord with violence over whatever you’re keeping from me then I would not have resorted to such measures.”
Eris leaned back in his chair, one leg arrogantly crossed over the other as one elbow rested on an arm of the chair and the other hand’s thumb and pointer finger rubbed curiously at his jaw.
“And how- pray tell, do you know of such violent threats? Nothing came through my end of the bargain tattoo so I know that Rhysand did not inform you.”
“No. You should be smarter, High Lord, about what you say beyond established wards. You never know what little ears may be prying.”
Realization crossed Eris’s features as he pieced together who had heard him.
“I simply stated that there would be retaliation. Your High Lord would reciprocate similarly if there were facets of my end of the bargain being broken.”
I leaned closer, inches away from Eris’ face.
“You can tell me what information is so important that a bargain is required to withhold it from me - or I can leave now.”
I could have sworn pain crossed his face briefly before he cooly said, “I’d hate to see you go, my little shadow but I always enjoy watching you leave.”
“I’m sure you do.” I stood up, swaying my hips as I walked toward the door, powering through the lingering hangover symptoms.
“Taking my shirt with you?”
“Ah, you’re right. Best to leave the dirty laundry here.”
Facing Eris and making a show of so slowly pulling the shirt up over my head, giving a perfect view of the rise and the bounce of my breasts as I tossed his shirt back to him.
“Your dress is covered in vomit and liquor.” Hand gesturing lazily toward the dress hanging over the bathroom door knob.
“Guess you’ll have to stay a while longer.
And damn my stubbornness because this was not a battle I was about to let him win.
“I’m winnowing home, Eris. Fuck the dress.”
“Wards extend to the street, sweetheart.”
I faltered but only for a moment.
I’ve never been ashamed of my body but strutting naked into the streets of Velaris wasn’t ideal.
Eh - C’est la vie
I grinned. A sharp, wicked thing.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled.
Was - was that jealousy? Possessiveness?
And with that, I strutted out of his apartment in only a lace thong.
“Wait!” He called but I didn’t miss a beat.
As I walked into the street, onlookers gawked but I paid no mind. “Y/N! Stop. Come back!” He yelled, grabbing my wrist right as I winnowed to the back door of my home.
“What the fuck was that?” Eris growled, voice low with anger and something else.
I turned to face him as he slung a jacket he’d grabbed on his way out over my shoulders, barely hiding my ass and doing nothing to cover my tits but it’s the thought that counts I suppose.
Had I not still been a bit inebriated from the prior night perhaps I would have remembered I had shadows at my disposal to give at least the illusion of modesty but -
I sobered up quickly as my father stepped out of the door in his leathers - likely headed to meet Uncle Cass before heading to Windhaven - only to be greeted by his mostly naked daughter and half-naked High Lord of the Autumn Court.
Icy rage and total discomfort crossed his features, his shadows shooting out to cover me.
The war of emotions was palpable as he clenched his fists, siphons glowing, eyes shooting daggers straight through Eris.
Eris tensed before dropping his typical arrogant bastard mask into place. “Greetings Spymaster.” An arrogant smirk plastered onto his face.
Father’s jaw clenched and his fists fought a battle of wills as if he’d beat Eris to a pulp right then and there. Finally he managed to ground out, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
——————————-
Eris flashback
The prior night
Y/N let out a rather loud snore in her drunken slumber, stirring him from the sleep he’d just begun drifting off to. Her hair had fallen over her face and he couldn’t resist leaning forward and gently tucking it behind her ear.
“Mm, Eris” she whispered in her sleep followed by the slightest upward twitch of her lips.
Fuck - it was so hard sometimes. He wasn’t a perfect male but he did his best to do right by those he cared about.
Sometimes he had to distance himself from her to prevent himself from laying it all bare - tell her everything instead of letting her believe him to be the “sneaky motherfucker”. She was so young, sure in fae society five years, fifty years, five-hundred years age difference, nobody batted an eye but he’d lived so much life compared to her less than thirty.
Amusement and longing rang through him as he took care of her intoxicated ass tonight, reminding him of the night out that brought them together in the first place.
Lucien and Vassa were busy in the Day Court and Adish was going out with a couple of friends - visiting a new tavern in a recently modernized town in the northeastern territory of the Autumn Court. The town itself was safe but there were still the ocasional ruffians passing through. Lucien had requested that Eris send eyes out to ensure their protection. Something urged him to just go himself and damn, he’d never stop being grateful that he did.
The evening itself was boring. Mostly high fae but even lesser fae who had become adjusted to the “new era” ushered in with his reign came out to the tavern. There were harsh punishments for unjust violence within the Autumn Court now. Still, there was so much change needed but it would come in time. His people were rather set in their ways but a new justice system was starting to usher in change.
He nursed a beer in a corner booth, catching the eyes of plenty of fae nearby but managing to avoid the attention of Adish and his crew - which included Nyx Archeron and the little Shadowsinger who he’d heard was quickly rising in their ranks.
Nyx and Adish had both wandered off with a couple of gorgeous females with the classic red hair of his Court along with interestingly enough, Tamlin’s daughter. Layla - if he recalled correctly.
Interesting.
His attention caught as he noticed two brutes who were definitely not from here vying for the little Shadowsinger’s attention. He chuckled to himself as she waived them off, turning back to a group of females she’d stumbled out of the bathroom with. She danced without a care, holding one hand in the air as her shadows steadied her wrist in an effort to prevent spillage.
He’d give it to Rhysand’s Shadowsinger and the Archeron sister who nearly broke his brother’s heart, they passed down all of their best genetics to the stunning female on the dance floor.
The males continued irritating her, going so far as to cut her off from the group by dancing their way between them. She kept dancing but he could have sworn she was letting them cut her off, despite the obvious malicious intentions the males had for her. As they backed her to a quieter portion of the dance floor the larger male grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards the door. She shook her head no but he kept pulling as the other male corralled her from behind. Eventually she waived off the grip on her wrist and walked out with them.
Fuck. He really had no interest in lighting anybody’s asses up tonight but someone had to get the trash out of his court. And despite the fact that he and Azriel were never the best of friends, his daughter deserved more than to be ignored due to their indifferences.
So he sighed, exited out the front door and strode toward the alleyway the other entrance had led to. As he rounded the corner, he came to a halt, lurking in the shadows and taking in a sight that he hadn’t anticipated.
The Shadowsinger sat unbothered on top of a barrel with an elbow on the knee that crossed over her opposite leg. Her face filled with complete and utter boredom as she rolled her eyes at the males bound in shadow before her.
“You couldn’t have just let me be, huh boys? I was having fun with the girls in there too.
I suppose I should thank you though. After all, you won me my next three rounds of drinks. You see, the girls and I had a bet on how quickly you’d give in to your sleazy nature.
One of them bet two hours, another an hour, and me? I know a pig when I see one. Less than thirty minutes from the first time you hit on me and, well, here we are boys.”
The males couldn’t speak through the gags her shadows had placed on their mouths but the rage was apparent in their squeals.
“Anyway, since you were so desperate to find release tonight, I’ve decided to help… remedy the situation.”
With a snap of the wrist and the exception of their underwear, their clothes disappeared while the shadows binds remained in place.
She gave them each a once over and a disapproving laugh, withdrawing the shadows that were gagging them.
“Alright boys, I’ve so generously removed your gags as a thank you for helping me win my bet. You may kiss eachother now.”
The males gaped. The burlier of the two seemed to lack the understanding of the fact that he was at the disadvantage in this situation. “You little whor-“
“Uh uh.” She wagged her finger. Shadows aiming at him like daggers. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. Not that it seems anyone ever taught you manners. Pity.”
The males were visually appalled. Glancing back and forth between her and eachother as if saying “what now?”
Both males fought the restraints to no avail as the little Shadowsinger grinned with amusement at the predicament she’d put them in.
“Honestly, I should just have my shadows castrate you. Would that be more appealing? You two seemed perfectly inclined to share me, what’s a kiss between friends?”
“Please. Sorry - just let us go.” The smaller of the two pleaded.
“Once you kiss - perhaps I’ll consider. Best do it soon though, I’d hate for the little situations beneath your underwear to be revealed to the patrons of this lovely establishment when my friends come looking for me.”
The males glanced once more at eachother, leaning closely in, still hesitating but resigning themselves to their fate.
When their lips were mere centimeters apart, she held up a hand. “Ah- just a moment, boys. We have company.”
Eris started at the comment. Looking down he found a shadow winding around his ankle - was he imagining things or was it almost playful?
“High Lord.” She mused. “How do you dispose of the trash in your court?”
Mask in place, he casually stepped out of the shadows with his hands in his pockets and a devilish grin on his face.
Her gaze fixed on him. Her beauty even more striking up close, and her scent - utterly mouth watering. And when his eyes met hers
Snap.
He knew then and there that he was wholehearted and irrevocably hers for the rest of his days.
He’d wait another 500 for it to snap for her too if he had to.
She was his mate. His.
————————-
A/N: Sorry (kind of) for always leaving you all on chaotic little cliffhangers. I hope the flashback made up for the torture at least a little bit!! 😏
Tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin
#sarah j maas#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#azriel#a court of silver flames#a court of frost and starlight#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#azriel shadowsinger#azriel daughter#eris vanserra#eris x reader#nyx archeron#bad idea right#acotar x olivia rodrigo#inspired by olivia rodrigo#eris x oc
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“ I WOULD APPRECIATE IT…IF YOU’D STAY WITH ME “
Summary: After a Friday night studying you and Wednesday decided to sleep together. When it’s 8:00 AM and you have to get ready to meet up with your friends, Wednesday decides she wants you to lay down with her for a bit longer. Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader.
Warning: None.
Genre: Fluff | One shot | pretty short | !!!
A/N : A master list and introduction list is coming soon btw!!
Oh my god last night was just a big pain in the ass, all those classes all those hours of end less studying and for what? Just for us to probably spend the rest of our lives rotting in prison for murder? This is pointless but to stay in nevermore academy having good grades Is a must especially to Wednesday. She values intelligence, little too much someone would say, But even Wednesday was a bit stressed out. What’s more better than peacefully sleeping with your girlfriend with no trouble on the world.
Shit shit shit. It’s 8:15 I’m supposed to be at the cafe by 8:35! I slowly move Wednesdays hand from mine and get up and quickly head to the bathroom. Of course Wednesday is a light sleeper and she sensed you got up, her eyes shot open and quickly got up at the sight of you not being next to her she looks around and sees the bathroom light on she somewhat relaxes knowing you are still here but she wonders why you are out of bed so early. Usually Wednesday wakes up around 6:15 but when she is cuddling or sleeping next to you she can’t help but relax in your arms and sleep much longer than she usually does. I finished brushing my teeth,hair and doing my skin care I just need to put on my clothes and some makeup products in my bag I’ll do my makeup in the car or something, I open the door and see Wednesday staring at me, at the sudden person awake I do freak out at first glance.
“ JESUS..my god you scared the shit out of me at least give me a warning damn “ “ You know that use of vocabulary was unnecessary, and at first you startled me when you weren’t next to me..what’s the rush anyway “ “ Remember I have to meet up with my friends at the cafe, I thought I told you last night “ “ oh yeah..I forgot I apologize.. “
Huh…Wednesday seems little upset at the fact I’m leaving, I probably shouldn’t pay any mind like she says I’m being dramatic I just really need to find my blush compact and change, But then suddenly Wednesday speaks up again.
“ Y/n. “
“ yes? “
“ um..I absolutely hate having this sentence come out of my mouth but I would appreciate it if you’d stay with me…at least for a little bit “
You look over to Wednesday and soften at how honest and vulnerable she is being, she struggles and hates showing affection through words and physically so she just gives gifts but this is the first she is actually asking which caught you by surprise and herself too, she never thought she would have the courage to or even have the right person to even say that “ disgusting “ sentence. You just nodded and quickly send a text message to your group-chat saying you won’t be able to make it with no context whatsoever, Wednesday moves a little bit the the side for you to have enough room and lay down next to her. You sit on the bed and lift your legs on the mattress covered with sheets that are black since Wednesday would refuse to sleep on anything bright. You lay down next to her and she just scoots closer to you and turns on her side ( with her hands still criss cross on her shoulders) and nuzzles her head into the side of your chest while you just have your hand on her back ( if that makes any sense at all) as you get even more relaxed Wednesday just mouths the words “ I love you “ as she drifts back to sleep.
EXTRA🤗!!! :
This would be Wednesday when she feels that you aren’t next to her and wakes up and waits for you to come back so she can either yell at you or ask you to come back and lay down with her
“ y/n I feel hurt, It feels like the coldest nights of the year and you left me to freeze didn’t you, usually it’s a relaxing feeling but coming from you it doesn’t feel so relaxing so would you care to explain why did you leave? “
Or
“ you’re finally back, this is horrifying to say but do you mind joining me back into bed..I would appreciate it more then you’d know so would that be a yes or no y/n? If you say no I will rip out each of your organs, yes? Okay great “
#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams#netflix#wednesday netflix#jenna ortega#fanfic#writing#fluff#cuddling#female reader#Wednesday Addams x female reader#wednesday x reader
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BTS reaction | There is a bug in your bedroom
OT7 x male reader (can be read in gn i think)
synopsis: basically before you go to bed you two find a bug in your shared bedroom
warnings: like one swearword I think?
note: these are just short reactions, but since I really hate it when bugs are in my bedroom I decided to write this
The moment you two entered your bedroom to go to sleep you saw it... a bug... sitting in your shared bed
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Jin
The moment his eyes landed on it he let out an high-pitched squeak and jumped behind you. You couldn't take your eyes off of the bug, scared it might move. Jin peaked over your shoulder "Aren't you going to get rid of it?!" he questioned you. Your head shot towards him. "Absolutely not! I am not getting near that thing!"
You looked at each other sighing. Well, looks like you two will sleep on the couch today..
Suga
He knew you weren't really fond of bugs. At least not when they were inside your house. So he wasted no time to walk past your frozen body, grabbed a tissue and carefully stepped towards the bug. What he didn't expect was that the bug might have been able to fly. Before Suga could trap the bug in the tissue it abruptly flew into the air towards your boyfriend. "GEEZ-!" he jerked away in shock almost falling to the floor.
"AHHH!" you too let out a short scream out of shock and fear. You both couldn't see the bug anymore but you were SURE that it was still there.
You held your chest where your heart was supposed to be to empathize your shock. "Alright. That's it. I am moving out!" you spoke determined, walking toward the door.
Suga silently agreed and followed you.
You two had a sleepover at J-hope's house the next few days.
J-hope
J-hope was TERRIFIED of bugs. So as soon as he saw the small animal he basically jumped into your arms "Ahhh!! Babe please get rid of it!!" he almost screamed directly into your ear. You caught him so he wouldn't fall onto the floor and had to steady yourself for a second. You wanted to set him down so you could get rid of the insect but he wouldn't let go of you.
"W-Wait! What are you doing!? You can't leave me while this bug is still here!" his arms around your neck tighten and you looked at him dumbfounded. "And how do you expect me to get rid of it then?" you asked confused.
He stared at you, trying to think of something. "I don't know man! Just do something!" he whined while looking at you. You just sighed and decided to call Namjoon to get rid of it.
"You are lucky I love you, my hope."
Namjoon
He wasn't necessarily afraid of bugs. But he definitely didn't need them inside the house. So when he saw it he just opened the window inside of the room and gently put the small animal into his hand so he could put it outside again. You just looked at him in shock.
"How the f*ck can you just touch it like it is nothing!?" you asked him shocked and disgusted. Your body shaking for a second at the thought of touching a bug.
"Why not?" he closed the window after he freed the insect and walked towards you. But before he could touch you you took a step back. "I am sorry but PLEASE wash your hands before you touch me!" you spoke acting more disgusted than you actually were as your body shook another time.
"Alright baby, I will" he laughed before he left for the bathroom.
Jimin
He stopped in his tracks, turning on his heals while loudly speaking "DEFINITELY NOT!" and with that he stomped toward a cabinet in which you store bed sheets and stuff. He opened it, took everything he could fit in his small hands and walked down the stairs towards the living room. "BABE! GRAB AS MANY PILLOWS AS YOU CAN. I WILL NOT SLEEP IN THAT ROOM!" he yelled from downstairs.
You did as you were told and followed him, finding him building a cave out of blankets and pillows. "We need weapons! What if it attacks at night?!" you didn't know how he could stay so serious when he spoke these words. You laughed at him and just went along with it, searching for weapons.
After that he insisted on you two guarding alternately during the night.
V
He actually didn't have anything at all against bugs. So when you went to get rid of it he screamed "WAIT!" startled you froze before you reached the bug. You looked at him shocked and confused. "What!? What's wrong?". He looked you in your eyes with a serious expression. "Don't kill it! Please?"
You thought something happened when he screamed the moment before. But he was just being the animal-loving dork that he is. You let out a short, soft chuckle. Not believing to have found such a cute boyfriend with so much love inside him.
Since you could never say no to his puppy eyes you agreed and tried to get rid of it without hurting it at all. That wasn't easy but for your baby you didn't give up.
Jungkook
The moment he laid eyes on it he let out a short scream and threw his phone at it. "JUNGKOOK!? You can't throw your phone at a bug!!" you tried to speak but you were laughing your ass off. "YAH! DON'T LAUGH AT ME! IT WAS JUST A REFLEX, OK?" now you started to laugh even harder. "Your first reflex to seeing a BUG is to throw your PHONE at it?! HAHAHAH" you just couldn't stop laughing while he went to grab his phone from the bed. "Yeah I get it, now stop laughing"
After that you both went to bed.
In the middle of the night Jungkook woke up and sat up apruptly, waking you in the process. "The bug wasn't there when I picked up the phone. Do you think it is still in this room?" he asked almost sounding innocent.
"JUNGKOOK!.." you sat up as you screamed his name, scolding him for scaring you. Falling back to bed you thought to yourself
'Well, looks I won't sleep tonight..'
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The poor bugs... :(
not proofread
Well this one is different from the other stuff I wrote so far!
Please let me know what you think!
#bts x male reader#bts#bts ot7#bts x gn reader#bts crack#bts reactions#male reader#gn reader#x male reader#x gn reader
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Tim and Kon are together, but they’re keeping it a secret— in my fic take me to the airport (call me from the platform).
Here’s a sample from the chapter where Damian accidentally discovers they’re sleeping together:
Kon knew the plan. Damian left for Gotham on Friday nights and was driven straight to school in Metropolis on Monday mornings. It was Saturday morning and he was sleeping in, happily curled up in Tim’s bed. He was fast asleep, knocked out cold, naked but the sheet bunched up around his waist.
He was woken up by the sound of pounding heart.
He blinked awake and took a deep breath. His first groggy thought was something was wrong with Tim, a nightmare or bad news or something, but the other side of the bed was cold. A quick scan of his surroundings made him bolt straight up. The heartbeat on the other side of the door, beating a million miles per minute, was Damian’s.
Damian shouldn’t be here. But since he was, Kon really shouldn’t be here. The bedroom door was closed so Damian probably hadn’t noticed him yet. He looked through the door and saw Damian, red in the face, with a horrified expression.
He definitely knew.
He probably walked into Tim’s room and immediately turned around but all his silent Batman training hadn’t been enough to silence his internal freakout.
Kon scrambled out of bed, cursing under his breath, and hesitated between the need to figure out where Tim was, the need to swear Damian to secrecy, and the need to find pajamas. Pajamas won. He pulled on his underwear and sweatpants from the floor and then burst into the living room.
Damian was standing with his back to him.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Kon said, hoping that would work, but knowing from the look on Damian’s face as he turned around that it wouldn’t.
“Tell me one thing, clone. Have you had sex on this couch?”
The hesitation on Kon’s face must’ve given him an answer. Damian looked disgusted and crossed his arms.
“Tt. Absolutely unacceptable.”
Kon flew in front of him, with super speed.
“Damian, you can’t tell anyone. I’m serious.”
He sneered. Kon tried again, increasingly desperate.
“Tim doesn’t want anyone to know. You can’t even tell Jon. Please.”
As soon as he said please, he realized he needed something more to get Damian to stay quiet. The only thing Tim wanted was to keep this a secret, and even though technically speaking Damian was the one who threw a wrench in the plans, he still felt guilty. Maybe if he hadn’t slept over. Maybe if he hadn’t slept naked. It was his fault Damian found out, but at least he could try to clean up his own mess before he told Tim about it.
“If you tell anyone, I’ll tell Clark and Lois the next time Jon sneaks out to meet you.”
Damian’s expression changed.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
He was pissed, but he was smiling. Angry and amused, the way a parent would be if they walked in on their child trying to do their taxes for them in crayon.
“Yeah. I am,” Kon tried to look intimidating which would’ve been easier if he was wearing a shirt and didn’t feel so flustered. At least he was bigger than the kid. He put his hands on his hips.
Damian’s face dropped. In the blink of an eye, he looked utterly devoid of human emotion, like slipping on a domino.
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for the WIP ask meme: would love a sneak peek of "Ed incompently comforting Stede"
The WIP meme!
Thank you!
I was having a discussion about how, too often, in fic Ed and Stede are both excellent at knowing the exactly correct therapy-speak thing to say to each other, whereas in canon they're more likely to fumble and misunderstand and get things wrong at first. And I really want more of the second version!
So I wrote a little thing where comfort is difficult but they get there in the end. The set-up is that Stede experienced some sort of sexual harassment from bullies as a child (I didn't bother to figure out the details, so it's all left vague), and has told Ed about it, but Ed didn't grasp how much it affected Stede at first, since Stede was doing his usual self-deprecating thing. I'll post the whole thing below, because this is one of my abandoned drawerfics; I didn't want to write out any of that setup or the climax afterwards, so the only part of the story that exists is the comfort itself. Also this is set in a vague post-S1 reconciliation period.
(Extremely minor noncon mentions)
Ed opens his eyes to darkness, at first not quite sure why he’s awake. After a moment, he hears it again – a soft, muffled sound, like a gasp or a sob.
Ed sits up and peers over the back of the settee. It’s dark in the captain’s (captains’, now) cabin, but the bed is up against a pane of windows and he can make out the silhouette of Stede’s form, curled up into a small ball, shoulders shaking.
Ed’s by the side of the bed in an instant. “Stede, mate,” he says in a whisper, “what’s the matter? Bad dream?”
“Oh, Ed! Nothing’s the matter, you don’t need to bother–"
“Yeah, I think I fucking do. You’re crying.”
“Nope, no. Me, crying? Nah. Probably an owl.”
Ed pauses, the covers held up to slide beneath and one leg already on the bed. “An owl.”
“Mm-hm!”
“Stede, we’re a hundred miles from land and you’re telling me I heard an owl.”
“Could be an albatross, then!”
Ed remains frozen in place long enough to hear what is definitely a sniffle, then stands up and slaps the covers back into place. “Sure, whatever. Just fucking lie right to my face, then, s’not like I fucking care." Technically Stede hasn’t, since he’s still curled up facing the windows, but Ed isn’t about to give him a pass for that reason.
“Ed!” Stede sits up and twists around, but Ed is already stomping back to the settee. “It is nothing, really, I was just being foolish–"
Ed throws himself onto the settee, where at least the back is high enough that he doesn’t have to look at Stede, or watch Stede not looking at him. “Bet if I fetched the boy Stede would tell him,” he says entirely to himself in what is not a pointedly loud tone. “Bet he knows all the right fancy words to say because he’s not a stupid pirate.”
“Ed, please, don’t wake anyone else up. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to hear me.”
“I bet you’d tell your fucking wife!”
There’s a silence in the cabin then, one that seems to ring with Ed’s shout. It’s broken only by a very quiet sniffle.
Shit. Shit. Ed’s heart sinks. Shit. That was definitely too far. He’s so bad at this. Very slowly, feeling like absolute trash, he raises his head and peeks over the top of the settee. Stede’s sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet brushing the floor. He’s got a sheet drawn around him like an improvised robe, and he’s staring down at his lap.
“‘M sorry,” Ed whispers.
Stede simultaneously shrugs and nods, which seems like they cancel each other out, leaving Ed with no idea what it means. Stede scrubs at his face with one fist, draws a deep breath, then puts his shoulders back. “Yes, well, if it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell Mary, actually.”
Ed swallows. That should be enough, should satisfy him, but he really wants to know. He’s greedy, when it comes to Stede. “Didn’t tell her what?”
Stede pulls the sheet tighter around his shoulders. “The, the thing. That happened. I did tell you. I haven’t been trying to keep secrets, Ed. Even though I know it shouldn’t matter so much, I know I’m being childish and foolish and weak-willed, but-"
“Stede. What thing? What are you talking about?” Ed pulls himself fully upright to lean over the back of the settee, but he doesn’t go back over to the bed, as much as his skin itches with wanting to touch Stede. He’s afraid closing the space between them will break the spell.
Stede cringes, his shoulders going up and his face lowering even further down. “The sex thing,” he says, quietly enough that Ed can barely make out the words. “You know. When – when it was bad.”
“That’s why you’re crying?”
Stede looks sharply to the side, chin up and held tight. “You don’t need to say anything about it. I’m already aware that I shouldn’t let it bother me.”
“Who says it shouldn’t bother you?” Ed lets his fingers dig into the upholstery of the settee and his voice go cool, ready to destroy whoever’s been upsetting Stede.
Stede whips around to stare at him. “You did!”
“What?” Ed rears back in surprise. “No, I didn’t!”
“You said it happened all the time! You said it was common!”
“I meant you weren’t alone!” Ed draws in a shaky breath, trying to claim back control over himself. “Fuck, Stede, lots of fucked-up things happen all the time. Lots of common things are just – fucking terrible, mate.”
Stede is silent for a long moment. Ed wants him to say something, but at least he can make out enough of Stede’ silhouette to see it’s gone a bit softer, no longer looking like he’s so stiff that he might snap into two. Finally, Stede says quietly, “Well, I’m sure none of the others are still crying about a thing that happened over thirty years ago.”
Ed thinks about Jack, who used to have nightmares whenever he went to sleep sober. He never said what they were about, but he’d whimper behind clenched teeth and thrash hard enough to dump Ed out of their shared hammock, and one time when Ed sneaked up behind him, Jack had nearly gutted him before he realized who it was. He thinks about a whore he’d been fond of for a while, visiting her every time they stopped in Port Royal. Sometimes when Ed arrived, she’d have bruises. Not on her hips or thighs, which might just have been evidence of too good of a time – Ed’d had those sorts of bruises himself – but a black eye, or a split lip, or once a dark ring around her upper arm. He’d asked about that one, and she’d just shown him her teeth, more of a snarl than a smile. The nights she had bruises, he paid her just to let him sleep in her bed – which he did sometimes anyway – and left her extra coin in the morning and they didn’t talk about it. And then one time he went back and she was gone and no one would say where.
Ed thinks about how small the house he’d grown up in was, and the noises he’d hear at night sometimes from his parents’ bed. He hadn’t know what it meant, at the time, but looking back his mom’s smile on the mornings after now made him sick to his stomach.
“Maybe it’d have been better if they did cry,” Ed says.
Stede just shakes his head.
“Look, man, aren’t we supposed to be doing this shit together, now?” Ed tries.
“Important things,” Stede says. “Not my silly little problems.”
Ed gets up and moves partway to the bed. He’s wearing a nightshirt Stede gave him, which he’s got to admit is more comfortable for sleeping than his leathers, but there’s no pockets and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to put them on Stede, but he thinks it’s not the right time for that, not yet, maybe not ever if he can’t figure out where Stede’s head is at. “You hold me, when I cry,” Ed says. “’S nice.”
It’s more than nice; the last time Ed was sobbing and howling into Stede’s shoulder, it had felt like Stede’s grasp was the only thing keeping him breathing through it, like if Stede had let go Ed might have just been done for. It’s part of the reason Ed forgave him so quickly, far quicker than he’d meant to. But he was pretty sure if he’d had to cry alone one more time it might have literally killed him, and he wanted Stede to hold him so badly that he’d have done anything for it, and so in the end it was goodbye, Ed’s pride, hello, Stede’s arms.
But he doesn’t need to say that. He’s already being enough of a clingy bastard tonight. “Okay, so, you don’t want me to hold you. Or talk about it. Great, got that. But don’t you – don’t you want anything from me, man?” Ed bites back a groan at himself; yeah, real well done with the not sounding needy.
Stede looks up at him, and they’re at just enough of an angle to one another that his eyes catch a flash of moonlight and Ed can see them, wet and bright and dark, and it sends another jolt of longing through his chest. “Ed, I just – I want to be enough for you. I want to be strong, to be a real partner for you.” His voice goes thin, unshed tears tightening his throat. “I’m so afraid that I can’t be what you want me to be.”
“Fuck, Stede.” Ed can’t hold back; he clambers onto the bed and grabs Stede’s face in both hands and kisses him all over it, peppering his forehead and cheeks and the damp corners of his eyes with short little pecks. “I love you so fucking much, you don’t even fucking know how much, it’s just ridiculous. I want all of you, okay? I want every fucking thing. I want the bad shit and the embarrassing shit and the shit that makes you burn up with shame. I want it.”
Stede huffs a shaky laugh and tucks his face into Ed’s neck. “I’m going to get snot on your nightshirt,” he warns.
“Love that. Fucking great, snot. Gimme all the snot you got, man, I want that too.” Ed digs his fingers into Stede’s hair and holds him tightly in place, feeling Stede’s hot wet breaths against his skin.
It takes a while for Stede to cry, though he'd seemed close to tears a moment ago. Ed pulls him in and Stede lets him, even curls up a bit to lean against Ed's chest, but his body’s still tense, nowhere near pliant. They sit like that in silence for several minutes.
The first sob is loud and harsh, sounds like it's ripped from Stede's throat, but right after he goes quiet again. It takes Ed a second to realize that he's working so hard to contain the tears that he's stopped breathing, every muscle on him gone rigid with the effort of keeping control. His lungs can't hold on for long, of course, and soon another rough sound escapes - more of a gasp than a sob, really - before Stede clamps down again. It goes on like that, individual sobs that fight their way out between taut silences. Ed presses his hand down on Stede's scalp and puts his other arm around his back, holding on as tightly as he can. He gets a leg up on the bed behind Stede, presses that into him too, folding as much of his body as he can manage around Stede's, wishing he could entirely envelop him, keep him safe and secret from the rest of the world.
Stede's staccato crying gradually gets the better of him, the gasps coming closer and closer together until they blend into steady weeping. Ed holds him through it, muttering shit that doesn’t mean much but that he hopes sounds good anyway – “I got you” and “let it out” and “you��re okay”. He clings hard to Stede like Ed’s the one on the verge of being swept away, though Stede doesn’t cling back; Stede keeps his hands to himself, one half-covering his own mouth in a futile attempt to muffle his sounds. Ed tries not to let that bother him. It helps that it’s his shirt collar that’s soaking up Stede’s tears, sticking against his skin as the cloth grows damp and then wet.
***
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Smother the Flame in Your Heart - Part XX
Read previous parts here or read on Ao3 // Playlist
Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka
Word Count: ~2700
Warnings: vampire & sexy time ;)
Sorry I'm a day late and sorry it's a bit short. The past couple weeks have been difficult and I literally didn't write a damn thing. I think things are breaking through now, however, and I'm not quite sure when this series will end, but we haven't reached it just yet!
---
It hadn’t been an easy decision for Sam. He’d made the decision quickly though, because the reflections on his brotherhood and a better understanding of Jake’s desires had soared through his mind when he’d pulled Danny away from the kitchen table, whisking him into action. He’d been shaking in the living room as they stood there and spoke quietly–at times silently and only exchanging facial expressions–discussing what was to be done.
Sam felt like he had two options. He could scorn Jake yet again, force him to turn away and never come back, and allow both of them to cause irreparable damage to themselves and their entire unit, including Danny, that they would always regret. Or he could show some grace and sacrifice in a way he’d never had to sacrifice before.
Danny was patient, as he always was–that was one of Sam’s favorite qualities of his soulmate. He let Sam take the reins and make the decision himself. Sam knew Danny would follow along no matter what that was. And he trusted Danny so completely that, when he did decide, he knew he didn’t need to be in the room with them when it happened. Sam didn’t want to see it, but he had no fear for what Danny might do–he’d do nothing except what he was asked. Sam also did trust Jake, although prickles of anxiety and doubt made that trust seep in more slowly.
All in all, it was just a couple minutes. And then a few more. Sam waited, pacing the kitchen in his bare feet, not making a sound. His own silence scared him too–he couldn’t mutter to himself, couldn’t make a single noise to exemplify what he was feeling because there were too many feelings stewing inside his heart and mind. But, when the timer went off, he just hoped that whatever Jake needed was accomplished and over with. And when Danny came back to him, Sam felt an overwhelming and unexpected sense of relief flood his veins.
Danny spent the next few days absolutely doting on him, which made Sam feel even more loved. Gifts and food and weed and alcohol, plus infinite kisses and massages and cuddles–Sam was ensconced in affection and he was eating up every second of it.
During an early and easy morning, they had gone back to bed after a quick breakfast–and no coffee. It was like Danny just wanted them to go back to bed, so Sam hadn’t put up a fuss. They had nowhere else to be but in each other’s arms.
Sam had nearly fallen entirely asleep again once they’d settled back within the sheets. He was lying on his stomach, just enjoying the closeness to his boyfriend when Danny straddled his hips; warm hands were quickly on Sam’s bare shoulders, gently rubbing and squeezing. Sam sighed and kept his eyes closed, enjoying Danny’s intentional and slow touches.
“Feel good?” Danny asked softly, working his palm into a small knot beneath one of Sam’s shoulder blades. Although the worst really was finally over now, he’d noticed–and keenly, physically felt–how tense Sam still continued to be. He had stopped carrying it in his face, his jaw, his words, but it festered in his body. It was a good thing Danny genuinely liked giving massages, because he believed Sam needed at least one each day.
“Always does,” Sam mumbled, keeping his face tucked against his arms and beneath the pillow. He winced a little when Danny worked that spot harder, but a few seconds later and a tightness Sam hadn’t fully felt before seemed to drop away.
Danny ran his hands down Sam’s sides. “Your skin is like silk. It always blows my mind.” He knew Sam’s shower and post-shower routine well, so it shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, he’d never touched another man whose skin was so silky soft and smooth. Danny could touch Sam all day and never tire of the sensation beneath his fingers.
Sam felt his cheeks heat against his arms. “You always say the nicest things to me, Danny.” Danny’s massaging of his lower back was putting Sam into even more of a lull. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you do,” Danny replied quickly but still softly, bending down to kiss Sam’s shoulder. He could smell his favorite scent in the world so clearly–there was no other that matched up, nor any other taste that was nearly as good, and experiencing Jake had proven that. The longer he’d been with Sam, the less he’d even noticed other people’s inadvertent temptations. Sam filled up his whole world and every one of his senses.
This morning was no exception. In fact, Danny felt even more in tune with Sam’s body and scent, and there was a hunger burning inside him. He tucked a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear as he spoke against his neck: “You know–I am a little hungry. You’re the only one who satisfies me.”
Sam made to roll over; Danny shifted off him to let him do just that. Sam reached up and pulled Danny to him, arms around his shoulders, and kissed him, suddenly so awake. “Really?” he asked, though he fully knew Danny told him the truth. He just wanted to hear more nice things.
“Mhmm,” Danny hummed as he kissed Sam back. “The way you taste…” He ran one hand down his body and cupped his ass, pulling Sam’s leg over his hip. “There’s nothing else like it. No one else like it.” He held Sam’s face in his other hand, pulling back to gaze at him. “But you know I love you for a hell of a lot more than that.”
Sam’s fingers hooked through Danny’s hair. “Like what?” he asked with pleading eyes and pouty lips, teasing. That got him the reaction he wanted–a big, beautiful smile and a soft chuckle from his boyfriend.
“Like your crazy, amazing mind,” Danny began, tracing one fingertip over Sam’s temple, then down his cheek and over his bottom lip. “The way you always speak your mind and hold fast to what you think is right. How loyal you are to the people you love, myself included.” Why would he ever need anyone else? Danny thought, staring into the depths of Sam’s dark eyes. He had his perfect match, his best friend, his most trusted person, his undeniable soulmate, with him forever. He squeezed Sam’s thigh down below. “I love how passionate you are about everything and how excited you get about what you love.”
Sam smiled. “Yourself included.”
“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Danny replied with a smirk.
Sam yanked him down by his hair and sank his teeth into Danny’s neck. “You should be,” he said when he pried his teeth away, Danny’s body sagging against his own. He touched the faint pink mark he’d left on Danny’s neck. “I want you to bite me there.”
With Sam, Danny no longer felt like a freak. Sam trusted him and wanted to experience every part of him, always. Still, Danny’s eyebrow twitched with trepidation: “You’re sure? You don’t care about anyone seeing?”
“Positive,” Sam purred, grinning. He grabbed Danny’s sides, fingers digging into muscle beneath the t-shirt. “Well. There’s one person I want to see it. You know.”
Danny sighed, shaking his head, but he was smiling all the same. “Ah, of course. You gotta show we belong to each other, right?” Sam nodded, twisting his body a little and arching his back. Danny dropped back down, ensconcing Sam’s front with his own, the weight and heat of their bodies melding together. “I understand,” he said with his lips against Sam’s neck, the soft, supple skin forever just as tempting as the delectable blood beneath.
They both moaned when Danny’s teeth broke through Sam’s skin and he started to gently suck. Desire and admiration for his brave, generous boyfriend and also a newfound sense of pride in himself rose in Danny’s heart as he tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair; it had taken so much time to harness the willpower he had now, and even more discipline when it came to Sam. Now, it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t a debilitating challenge. He could take what he needed–what they both needed–and still be a kind, gentle, loving person and partner.
Sam’s hips wiggled beneath his and Danny felt the hardness between those thin legs. Sam was so insatiable, and the soft little whine that escaped those plush lips made Danny moan again, the sound muffled against Sam’s neck. Even without seeing, he knew and he could feel how distinctly his mark would be left on Sam for all the world–for Jake–to see. And when he ceased his drinking of that mouthwatering elixir that ran through those veins, ran his soothing tongue over the little wounds and pulled back, he could already see it.
Sam reached a hand up to touch the spot on his skin that was burning and sore. “Mm. I bet it looks hot.”
After a quick swipe of his tongue over his own lip, Danny laughed. “It looks crazy. Like it always does.”
“Good,” Sam replied, hands tugging at Danny’s shirt, and their clothes came off even more quickly than that horrible decision Sam had had to make.
The rest of the world disappeared as Sam rode Danny. It was just them in the cool mid-morning light that spilled into the room, just Danny’s hands on Sam to keep him just grounded enough, tied to the reality he wanted to be in forever–the reality of safety and beauty, excitement and love.
And Danny did look so excited, beautiful and full of love beneath Sam. Big, dark eyes stared up at him, gleaming and shimmering gold and hazel when he blinked, lips parting below as if he was in total awe of Sam. Sam was in awe of him in turn–Danny was so in control all the time, so composed, so regal in his beauty and calm, as placid and cool as the gentle breeze through a wild forest. Sam always felt like a raging fire threatening to burn down the world, so close to destroying everything, even the things he loved, but with Danny’s hands on his hips and those eyes locked on his own, Sam knew he could be still, he could exist in the world without clawing at it in furious desperation. He didn’t need to be desperate for anything–everything he’d ever wanted was all his, no question.
Danny’s hands squeezed before one left Sam’s hip to wrap around his cock. Sam had already been sliding himself over Danny’s abdomen, but the additional warmth and friction and the wetness from his unyielding precum made his eyes flutter and close. He was breathing hard, his heartbeats matching Danny’s, so close even though they’d barely begun.
Danny didn’t mind. He was close too, throat tight against the moans that kept rolling off his tongue, his cock squeezed tight by Sam’s body, his chest warm beneath Sam’s long, slender hands. He lifted his other from Sam’s hip and brought it to the gorgeous face he longed to see every second of every day, caressing Sam’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his full bottom lip; Sam opened his eyes and smiled before he launched himself down, suddenly riding Danny hard and fast as he pressed their mouths together.
“Oh, god, Sammy–” Danny whispered against those bewitching lips, his words turning to muffled moans when Sam kept incessantly kissing him. He wanted to say so much but he’d have to say it all later, because one more rough gyration of Sam on top of him and Danny’s brain sparked and shut off for a second. His own limbs went rigid, then suddenly slack, while Sam’s mouth trailed down his chin and neck, tucking his face beneath Danny’s jaw to suck and teeth as he burst into Danny’s curled palm.
“Oh, god, Danny,” Sam mirrored with a smirk against his boyfriend’s neck. He rolled off and onto his side, quickly tossing one arm over Danny’s torso. “You’re the devil.”
Danny snorted. “Far from.”
Sam laughed, giddy and love-drunk, still a bit delirious from his orgasm. “I know. Just kidding.” He inched close enough to kiss Danny’s forehead. “You’re actually an angel, sent down to earth just for me.”
Danny smiled, cupping the back of Sam’s head. “That’s true.”
Sam dropped back down against the pillows, keeping his eyes on Danny. “So what else should we do today? It’s still kind of early.”
“More of this,” Danny said, wiping his hand against his chest. He was in no rush to clean himself or anything else up–he could take it easy today.
They lazed throughout the slight remainder of the morning, even taking advantage of Danny’s extra-clean tub to bathe together. Sam was never a bath person–who could sit there in dirty water, confined to concave porcelain and forced to remain still? He always needed to move. He raced through his showers, his routine down to such a succinct timeline–part of that was because he lived with two other people–that sitting there in the warm, sudsy water, his back against Danny’s slick chest, felt entirely unnatural. But Danny’s slow, soothing touches kept Sam still and silent, basking in the surprising comfort and the unique ease that his boyfriend elicited.
Once all clean and dry, Danny sat at the little round kitchen table that he’d gotten at a garage sale years ago, watching Sam prepare lunch. He’d grown to become relatively accepting of being alone for as long as he was, but one thing that always irked him was cooking for just himself. It never felt right and it was always annoying. Sam mitigated that, and he was also such a joy to observe–he moved around the little kitchen like a hummingbird, fast and focused, his eyes fixated on what he needed to find and what he subsequently did with each ingredient. This afternoon, it wasn’t anything objectively special, but the homemade pasta salad and turkey sandwiches filled were beautiful in Danny’s eyes–carefully crafted and plated, and they tasted better than any other similar dish he’d ever had because Sam’s hands had created them for him.
Danny did the dishes, though there weren’t many to do. The turkey sandwich lunch hadn’t created much of a mess and he was regular enough with his upkeep that there wasn’t much lingering day-to-day. He wondered if Sam would adopt more of that fastidiousness into his own life–maybe Danny was only really like that because he grew up with a sister and not brothers. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to fully understand Sam’s relationship with his brothers, but Danny was so relieved that things were getting better between all of them.
A weight had been lifted the moment he’d met Jake’s gaze from the Kiszka’s porch–there had been an understanding, silent but profound, exchanged in that look. Sadness and defeat in Jake’s eyes, but one blink later and Danny knew he saw acceptance there too. Finally.
“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked as Danny was motionless, caught in a daze of reflection in front of the kitchen sink. Sam came up behind him and shut the water off as he clicked his tongue. “Wasteful, Daniel.”
“Oh, shit.” Danny chuckled, then sighed as he set the mug he’d finished washing in the drying rack. “I was–” He let out a soft groan and turned around, taking Sam in his arms. “I just never wanted to break his heart, you know?”
Sam nodded, circling his arms tighter around Danny’s waist. “You didn’t mean to. He gave you no other choice, if we’re being real.”
Danny pouted. “Aw, Sammy. I don’t know if that’s fair. We can’t help who we like.”
“No, but we can help from hitting on them.”
“Okay, fair. Still…” Danny sighed again, studying Sam’s face. “I think it all worked out for the best. You think you guys are really gonna be okay?”
Sam wouldn’t have said yes to that question a few weeks ago, but now, he had no doubts. “Absolutely,” he answered, sliding his hands into Danny’s back pockets as he leaned in for a kiss.
---
Tagging:
@mackalah @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @milojames16 @brokebellsgvf @streamsofstardust @heckingfrick
If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)
#greta van fleet#gvf#danny wagner#danny gvf#sam kiszka#sam gvf#josh kiszka#josh gvf#jake kiszka#jake gvf#danny wagner x sam kiszka#gvf fanfiction#sanny#stfyh
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Slight sub! Dazai x male! Reader drabble cause I cant get him outta my head 😩
I'm like tripping balls rn so I'm not sure what to put for tags. Dazais bottoming. Reader is male bodied. Unsafe sex (always practice safe sex for your health! This is a work of fiction!) Dacryphila, Overstimulation- dazai scratches, mentions of orgasam denial (if theres anything else I am sorry)
NOT PROOF READ OR EDITED
A/n- posting this post me tripping balls- ima try and write more while I'm high I had fun with this 🤣
Female aligned people DNI!
...................................
His back is pressed flush against your chest, chest rising and falling raggedly. Dazai was gripping the sheets like his life depended on it. His neglected cock ached and leaked pre, begging for his release as much as he was.
"Ah, fuck right there right there I'm-" his pleas ending in a loud whine as you stilled your hips, hands running down his thighs
"What do you want?" Dazai kept his mouth shut, biting into his lip "if you don't tell me, I can't help you" you smile down at him. He's certain you're a sadist.
"Need to cum" he turned his head to make eye contact with you, and your breath hitched. The beginnings of tears were in his eyes, dancing just behind his eyes lashes "please need to so bad. Want you to make me cum" his words were followed by a whimper as you pull out
"Turn over" he obediently turns over, now on his back
"Please" he said again. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and slowly you begin to jerk him off. His hips lifted off the bed and arched into your touch "f-faster please" he moaned out
"Of course" you respond, instantly speeding up your movements. His cock twitches in your hand and you know hes close
"You gonna cum?" You asked him, picking up the pace yet again "go on and cum. Be a good boy for f'me and cum" he released all over his own stomach, some drops splattering on his chest. His moan was loud and lengthy, the relief of being granted release after so much denial was heavenly. He revealed in the feeling of you jerking him off through his orgasm, until it began to feel like too much. You weren't stopping
"It's too much" he managed out, trying to push slightly on your hand, back arching from the overstimulation already "a-ah fuck- I can't-"
"You can" you affirm, gently stroking him, leaning up so you could get into his ear as he pants and moans " 'm gonna fuck your tight ass again" you whispered. Dazai clenched around nothing, already feeling the heavy weight of anticipation. Your hand finally stopped, allowing him to relax a moment. The moment was short lived.
You pushed his legs up to his chest, pressing them down and restricting his movement. He felt something cold shoot into his ass, and he jumped a bit
"Lube" you told him, running a hand down his side. You squeezed more over your dick, spreading it around. When satisfied by the coverage, you wasted no more time and sinking your cock past the tight rim of his ass.
"Fuck!" Dazai keened, and you had to stop for a moment. He really was tight, and him clenching around you didn't help maneuvering at all.
"Relax Dazai" you leaned forward, putting further weight onto his legs which were already pressing hard into his chest "be a good boy and relax so I can fuck you good" Dazai forced himself to relax, and you pulled out halfway and then slammed back in. He called out your name, his hands gripping anywhere they could ahold of. Your cock was hitting his prostate so deliciously. Pleasure wracked through every inch of his body. And god was he vocal. Letting out high strings of praise, lewd moans and pathetic whines. You looked down at him currently begging for you not to stop and almost cum at the sight alone. Tears stain the side of his face, his hair was sticking slightly to his forehead, his mouth stayed at least slightly agape. His own previous release coating his abdomen and chest. He looked absolutely stunning. You quickened your pace.
"Right there! Right there! Don't stop fuck-" Dazai panted. Your hand wrapped around his re-hardened cock, and began jerking him off in time with your thrusts. The pleasure was too much for Dazai, and he was soon releasing all over his chest once more with a cry of your name leaving his lips. You were nearing your release, too. You continued to use Dazais ass to chase your own release
"Fuck- I'm gonna cum" you warn Dazai, thrusting in and out a few more times before pulling out completely. You stroke your cock one, two, three times and then you're shooting cum all over his chest, your release mixing with his own.
You instantly drop his legs and crawl up next to him, pushing the hair out of his face
"You okay? Did so good for me" you whispered, and he nodded
"I'm okay" his breath shuddered slightly. You excused yourself to bring back a washcloth and then wipe his body down, cleaning off the sweat and cum from the past few hours.
#dazai x reader#dazai smut#dazai osamu#dazai x reader smut#dazai osamu smut#bungo stray dogs smut#bungo stray dogs dazai#no beta we die like men
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Death by Exposure
Written for the Phic Phight Prompts: At first Danny had been worried sick that Wes had figured out that he was Phantom, but when no one believed him it had sort of become funny. Still, after the anti-ecto act, and the GIW, and his own parents very public very violently vitriolic screeds against ghosts, Danny had to wonder what he'd ever done to Wes that the guy would risk exposing Danny to all that. (from @hpwotters-blog, or at least I think that's you're tumblr.), and Wes Weston wakes up to find an injured Phantom on the fire escape. (from @half-deadmagicperson)
With how much time he spends on basketball and his delusional conspiracy theories, no one would ever suspect that Wes Weston has another secret hobby… (from @kadziduo)
Another prompt that will be included in later chapters but isn't as of this one:
And Wes has been spending more and more time around Fenton and Co. lately - hey! he’s only trying to get some much-needed evidence against them, not trying to get all buddy-buddy with them. And anyway, they’re an entirely annoying bunch, so he wholeheartedly blames them for the fact that he’s currently being monologued at by the ghost holding him hostage. (from @a-closet-emo)
Chapter 4: Expositor
AO3 Link
[Warning for mentions of blood and violence]
Danny used a damp washcloth the clean off what was left of the blood and ectoplasm from his skin before changing, first from ghost to human, and then, once he was back in his own clean clothes, into the pajamas. When he returned to the bedroom, Wes was gone.
Danny didn't really wonder where Wes had gone because he didn't really care. He was completely wiped from everything that had happened that night, and he just wanted to get some sleep. Crossing the room, he flopped face down onto the bare bed. Without any kind of sheet or comforter, the mattress was lumpy and not very comfortable. Danny hardly noticed.
He adjusted himself so he was laying near the edge to make it easier to breathe and was just about to drift off when his arm slipped off the mattress and brushed against something hard. Not wanting to open his eyes, Danny felt around blindly until his fingers closed around something flat and solid wedged between the mattress and the bed frame. It was a close race, but his curiosity one out over his exhaustion and he pushed himself into a sitting position to see what it was.
In his hands, Danny held some kind of journal. At first, he thought it was Wes' diary, and that he should put it back because even if it was Wes, Danny wasn't enough of a jerk to read someone's diary; then he considered the far more likely possibility that it was filled with Wes' evidence of Danny's dual identity, and he should check it out, for his safety. What Danny actually found when he opened the journal was the last thing he would have ever expected.
Birds.
Each page had a photograph of a bird, along with some writing, in Wes' own hand, about what the bird was, and where and when he had seen it. Danny stared at the pages in absolute shock as he flipped through them. Danny almost laughed out loud when he read a clearly very excited entry about a bird called the Red Knot which was apparently endangered in Illinois, but that Wes had spotted out at Lake Eerie over the summer.
"Sorry, it took longer than I thought to wash all that shit off my hands. They still smell like rubbing alcohol," Wes said as he came in. "Make yourself comf—why do you have that?" he interrupted himself when he saw what Danny was holding. He stomped over and snatched the journal out of Danny's hands, snapping it shut.
"You have a bird watching journal?" Danny asked incredulously.
Wes opened his desk drawer, tossed the journal haphazardly inside, and slammed it shut again. "I like bird watching. Is that a crime?"
"No it's just," Danny laughed at the absurdity of it all, "Between basketball and obsessively stalking me and trying to expose me as Phantom, I didn't think you had time for–" he snorted, and brought a hand up to his mouth to cover the amused smile there–"bird watching." He couldn't hold it in anymore, Danny burst out laughing, interspersed with winces as the action irritated his injuries.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Wes said, crossing his arms with a scowl. "I have a life outside of you, you know. You think I got binoculars with adjustable magnification just to watch you? Don't flatter yourself."
"Ouch! But, seriously, bird watching?"
"It's peaceful and relaxing!"
"You're such a nerd!"
"Well what do you do when you have free time?" Wes demanded indignantly. "Let me guess, you spend your time playing video games, right?"
"You mean a normal hobby that most teenagers engage in?" Danny pointed out. "Yeah, I do."
"You'll rot your brain."
"Whatever, nerd!"
"Shut up." Wes pouted. "You just got shot four times. Shouldn't you be resting or something? Go to fucking sleep." He crouched down to lay out his bedding on the floor.
"When do you even find time do go bird watching?" Danny asked laughingly.
"I thought I told you to go to sleep!"
"Alright, alright!" Danny laid down again and Wes got up to switch the light off before climbing into his makeshift bed on the floor. For a while, Danny stayed quiet, but he just couldn't help himself. "What's the rarest bird you've ever seen?"
"Shut up!" Wes groaned and whacked Danny with a pillow.
"Fine!" That lasted all of seven seconds. "But what is it?"
Wes sighed, but Danny could hear the smile in his voice when he finally answered. "I saw an island scrub Jay once, when my family took a vacation to Santa Cruz a couple summers ago. They're so pretty, and they're like, one of the rarest birds in the states; it was pretty awesome. They literally only live on Santa Cruz Island and nowhere else, because they're non-migratory. I spent the whole trip looking for one. Kyle and Easton spent the whole trip making fun of me for it."
Danny laughed again. "Nerd."
"If you don't wanna know, don't fucking ask!" Wes whacked him with a pillow again and he sputtered momentarily. "Go to sleep already."
"How did you even get into bird watching?" Danny asked. "That's not a normal hobby for a kid to have." Wes sighed again.
"If you're just gonna call me a nerd again, I'm not gonna tell you."
"I promise I won't call you a nerd."
Wes didn't answer right away, probably not trusting the promise, but just when Danny thought he'd decided to just go to sleep he answered.
"My mom's a flight attendant, so when I was little I used to watch the sky all the time and keep an eye out for planes, try to guess which one she was on, you know?" he explained. "Turns out, when you watch the sky all day, you end up seeing a some cool-looking birds, so when I was seven or eight, I asked for a camera for my birthday so I could take pictures of them, and it sort of spiraled from there."
"That's... kinda sweet, actually," Danny said.
"Whatever."
"You know, I do like video games, but actually, I'm also really into astronomy," Danny said.
"And you called me a nerd."
"Hey, bird watching is way nerdier than stargazing," Danny defended. "I mean ask literally anyone. Stargazing is, like, romantic and crap, bird watching is full-on nerdy."
"Sure, space geek," Wes said. "What's your favorite dwarf planet?"
"Haumea," Danny answered immediately, without even having to think about it.
"Knowing any dwarf planet besides Pluto is well into full-on nerd territory."
"Haumea spins so fast that gravity makes it oblong instead of round; tell me that's not cool!"
"Okay, it's a little cool, but you're still a nerd. Go to sleep."
They ended up staying a little later, swapping fun facts about birds and space, eventually falling asleep at almost five in the morning. Thankfully, spring break afforded them the opportunity to sleep in as long as they wanted. When they eventually woke up, Danny didn't leave Wes' place right away.
Wes brought him a sandwich for breakfast/lunch, and helped him change his bandages. Although, it unsettled Wes to see the difference in blood composition between Danny's two forms. It would be a couple more days before the wounds fully closed, but the bleeding had stopped. As long as Danny was still healing, his ecto-signature would be stronger, even in his human form, which meant going home was a no-go.
"What do you mean your house will attack you?" Wes asked, horrified.
"My parents have a very sophisticated anti-ghost security system," Danny explained. "I can pass through in my human form well enough as long as I don't use any of my powers, but if I so much as have my ghost sense go off, it activates and I have a dozen anti-ghost weapons in my face. It'll definitely target me with my enhanced healing working, but I can't exactly turn that off."
"Alright, fair enough," Wes said. "But you can't stay here. My dad's not that observant, but Kyle will definitely notice if you stay any longer, and neither of us wants that, trust me."
"That's fine," Danny said. "Tucker's house is empty right now, and I know where they keep the spare key. I'll camp out there for a few days. And, uh, once I can get into my house again, I'll bring you some of my parents' Fenton Detergent that'll work on ectoplasm stains so you don't have to buy new towels."
"Good, because I couldn't really afford to anyway," Wes said, his shoulders slumping in relief. "I'll come check on you at Tucker's, just in case."
"You will?" Danny asked, surprised.
"Of course," Wes said. "I won't be able to sleep if I don't know you're okay, not after, you know, everything." Ah, so he felt guilty. Alright, that made sense.
"Okay, well... thanks," Danny said, face splitting into a smile, "for, you know, everything." He started to climb out onto the fire escape, ready to leave.
"Yeah, no problem."
"And good luck with the bird watching," Danny tacked on as he transformed into Phantom and jumped off the fire escape.
"Oh, fuck off!" Wes shouted, running to the window to flip the ghost off while he laughed, turning invisible to keep the patrols off is tail as he made a beeline for Tucker's place to lay low.
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#phic phight#phic phight 2023#fic#things i wrote#dp#danny phantom#danny fenton#wes weston#death by exposure
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Okay. It's. Uh. It's begun.
Okay, I know this looks bad for the killer being Zilch but we still don't understand fully how his powers work. His powers control mammals. He might be able to control people. In which case, he could theoretically control someone to kill him and then keep right on trucking in their body, maybe? Or he could have been controlling this person we knew to be Zilch all along.
This is wild-ass speculation and absolutely should not be the leading theory but I want to put it out there for why Zilch is only 90% absolved of suspicion here, even though we're staring at his smoldering, stabbed corpse.
His face burned off while we were breaking down the door but we saw his face earlier so we can confirm it's Zilch.
More concerning, however, is the fact that his adorable puppy-dog hat is missing. Melami never told us how much of a person's clothes she needs to channel their spirit. There could be something to that.
1 - If Melami were the killer, there's no reason she'd take his hat and channel his spirit, is there?
2 - If Zilch were the killer, maybe he controlled Melami and made her take his hat, so that after he died he could possess her? Or something?
3 - If neither Zilch nor Melami is the killer, then Melami may have taken his hat so that she could channel him and find out who the killer is. She would have had to get to him before the body was set on fire, however.
4 - Or his hat just fell off at some point.
...wait a second, why is knife stabbed through the sheet?
It's already weird that he's in the infirmary. Yuma couldn't enter the infirmary on account of the locked door, but now Zilch is both in here despite having a room of his own, lying in the bed, and was stabbed through the sheet while he was, I guess, peacefully resting? Then set on fire for good measure?
If you were going to kill him by stabbing, why would you then set him on fire? And if you killed him by stabbing, why would he look like he was resting peacefully? Getting stabbed in the chest would wake a guy up and cause a struggle, at least for a bit.
Mm. Nothing about this seems right. My gut's saying this body was already non-responsive when he was stabbed. The fire's to disguise either a different cause of death or, if he did it and he was controlling/possessing Melami, the lack of one.
(Also in the realm of wild-ass speculation, we should include the possibility of a spirit possessing Melami as the killer. She may have been channeling someone this whole time and we wouldn't know. Extremely unlikely, but should be on the suspect list.)
Fire extinguisher is suspicious. We used this to stop the fire before it could spread to the rest of the train. But it was pulled from its compartment and left for us to find, so maybe someone wanted us to do that.
It might not be meaningful but it feels indicative of something.
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. BESTIE, NO!!!
...
Also. There goes my other prime suspect. Alright, Zilch is still on the suspect list because of his animal-controlling but Melami doesn't even have a hypothetical way she could come back from this.
Alright, so this may explain the fire extinguisher. We only put out Zilch. The killer may have burned both bodies (plus whatever more there are), putting out all but Zilch's and then leaving the extinguisher for us when we woke up.
Why not kill Yuma, though? He was defenseless in the bathroom. Unless they didn't know he was in the bathroom. They might not have checked. In which case, they didn't leave the extinguisher to be used but instead just dumped it, intending for Zilch's fire to burn the train down?
This would imply that Zilch was the last to be burned.
Mm. I don't know, though. Not putting all of my eggs in that basket.
Obvious firestarters. You could also brain someone with it.
Obviously where the firestarters came from. T_T And my coffee that my bestie made for me. I hate you sometimes, Kodaka.
And now someone's fucking with the train. Brilliant. That or the train's fucking with itself. It's fully automated so it's entirely possible that someone could derail us remotely from hundreds of miles away and we wouldn't know it. Especially if Amaterasu is at fault.
Tunnel's a good place to derail us, if that's the plan here. Easy to clean up.
*deep breath* Alright. Time to go see if anyone else is alive. Process of elimination could reveal the killer though, somehow, I doubt it's going to be that easy.
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Azriel x Reader |
Renewal
Chapter Three
Azriel x Female Reader
Based on this ask:
“My brain literally will not shut up about reader from our world who is actually the reincarnation of Rhy’s sister (and Az’s mate duh)but NONE of them realize it until she dies/gets put into the cauldron and is brought back as high fae”
THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE!! I know it took me forever, and it’s not the most exciting chapter, and also the ending is ass, but it’s here!! Next chapter will be a fun one, and the one after will move the plot more I promise!!!
——————————————————————————
Azriel
He was frozen in that damn chair in the library for way too long after she stormed out. He’d clearly made her angry which didn’t feel great, but she was ridiculously attractive when she got feisty like that. Besides, he needed to get a grip, and creating some distance between them would be good.
Over the next week he kept his promise. He stopped sending his shadows to watch her at night, and tried to focus more on training with the Valkyries. He saw her around the river house and at dinner, and tried to keep himself from staring at her.
Rhys told him she’d had a couple more dreams of her former life, but nothing of any interest, shopping in a bookstore, talking to the friend from her first dream, walking in the park, no more hints on where she had come from, or why she was here.
She was making progress with Feyre, and becoming fast friends with Mor, but Azriel was determined to distance himself from her. He didn’t want the distraction and she clearly didn’t like him. Even if she did, he would never pursue it. He wouldn’t allow himself to be a relationship guy. He was too fucked up for that, everyone knew it and it was best if she did too.
It was late one night, and he had finally gotten himself to sleep. He was staying at the river house more often these days. His excuse was that Rhys needed him, and they still weren’t sure how safe it was to have Y/N there, but if he was totally honest, being close to her made him feel lighter.
Azriel was drifting out of consciousness when his shadows began to swirl around him, poking at him and tugging on his hair.
“Ugh, really?” He mumbled with a sigh, pulling himself out of sleep and swatting at the shadows around him. If something were seriously wrong, he’d be able to hear it, or at least sense it. Why the fuck did they feel the need to wake him up?
A smoky tendril of shadow brushed past his ear, allowing him to hear what it had. It was Y/N. She was crying, whimpering, as if in pain. Without a second thought he grabbed the knife from his bedside table and rushed out of the room.
He had flung open the door to Y/N’s rooms before he even realized what he was doing.
She was laying in the center of the bed, tangled in the sheets and curled up on her side, clutching her stomach.
“Y/N…” Azriel began, slowly walking toward her. “What’s wrong? What’s hurting you?” He asked as he approached the bed.
She was asleep, dreaming, he realized. She was sweating and moaning in pain. He couldn’t stand to see her hurt, but knew he couldn’t abruptly wake her from a nightmare like this, he’d had enough of his own to know better.
He sat on the edge of her bed, and slowly reached out to her. He was about to touch her forehead, try to ease her out of sleep, when he caught sight of his scarred hand, and the contrast it made against her smooth skin. Azriel hesitated, this was exactly why he shouldn’t be there, near her. He was cruel, scarred and wrong, and she was an innocent. A human, she’d likely never even seen anyone die, let alone kill them herself. She’d absolutely never enjoy taking a life…
Y/N let out a cry of pain, breaking Azriel’s thoughts. He pressed his hand against her forehead, and softly stroked her hair, quietly saying her name and trying to gently wake her.
“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay, you’re dreaming, you’re okay” he said to her.
Y/N slowly began to calm down, her breathing becoming even, her body less tense.
Azriel kept up his ministrations, not wanting
to leave her just yet.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes. “Azriel?” She asked, and his breath caught at hearing his name from her mouth. “Is this a dream?” She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
He smiled softly at her. “No, you’re awake.” Azriel said, “Do you dream of me often, Y/N?” He asked with a small smirk.
She rolled her eyes and sat up, his hand falling from her hair. “Of course not. I was hoping I was only dreaming, since I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want you watching me while I slept. And while that was creepy enough, it’s even creepier to have you physically in here while I’m unconscious.” She huffed, crossing her arms. The motion made him notice how little clothing she was wearing, and he sent out a silent thank you to Mor for picking out the skimpy nightclothes.
“You were dreaming,” he said, standing up to put some distance between them before he did something rash. The shadows were worried. You seemed like you were in pain, so I came to make sure you were alright. Sorry for waking you.” He turned to leave, not wanting her to ask why he couldn’t have just left when he noticed she wasn’t actually hurt, instead of staying and comforting her through the nightmare.
“Wait, Azriel,” Y/N began, “thank you, for checking on me.” She said, eyes fixed on her blankets while she nervously picked at a loose string.
“Of course, that’s my job.” He said, smirking to himself at the blush on her cheeks before heading back to his room. There was no way he’d sleep after that.
Y/N
Azriel had been in your room. He had woken you from a particularly horrifying dream, not that you remembered much of it now. Oh no, all you could see now when you closed your eyes was Azriel. A very shirtless Azriel sitting on your bed and stroking your hair, and looking at you with those gorgeous eyes, his wings spread behind him, blocking out everything but him. Shit. Why’d he have to be nice. Why couldn’t he continue to be creepy and rude. It would make tampering your crush on him so much easier if he wasn’t nice to you.
You somehow managed a few more hours of dreamless sleep before dawn. You pulled yourself out of bed with the sunrise, figuring there was no more need to attempt sleep when the sun was up.
As you readied for the day, you tried to remember your dream before Azriel had awoken you, but there were only pieces. A gleaming knife, red with fresh blood, an old woman with bejeweled rings on her fingers, flashes of a stormy night sky. It didn’t make any sense, and who knew if it even meant anything. You resolved you’d ask Rhysand to check it out later, maybe he could help you remember more of it and see if it had any significance.
It had been a week since you’d had any kind of meaningful dream, and you were growing more and more frustrated.
You felt useless, restless. The fae you lived with all had jobs, duties, important things to attend to, and all you had was a fried memory. You couldn’t do anything to help them, you were just a human in a world that wasn’t her own, with no skills or plans. You knew the high lord and lady didn’t mind having you with them, in fact you thought Rhysand quite liked the idea of solving your mystery, and Feyre was alway happy to have a helping hand with Nyx, but you knew this was temporary, and what scared you the most was not knowing. You didn’t know where you’d end up whether you recovered your memories or not, but you couldn’t live in this limbo world forever.
You decided to spend some time in the library since it was still too early to bother the others. You were wrapped up in a particularly steamy romance when Mor plopped down in the chair across from you, making you jump.
“Hey” she began, taking in your rumpled, sleep deprived appearance. “You look like you could use a drink” she smiled.
“You have no idea,” you started, plopping down across from her. “I’m so frustrated at this point, I’m not opposed to day drinking”
Mor let out a laugh, “Well how about we go out tonight? If we can get Feyre and Rhys to leave Nyx with a sitter for the night, we could get the whole group to go? I think we all need to let off some steam.”
“I’m 100% in.” You said, shooting a smile at the blonde female. You were beyond interested to see what a night out was like for fae. Not that you remembered much about a night out as a human, but it would be an adventure, and something to get your mind off your current predicament.
“Fantastic!” Mor said as she stood. “I’m going to go work my magic and rope these workaholics into partying” she wiggled her fingers at you and swept out of the room.
With a sigh you pushed yourself up and left the library. As much as you’d love to get lost in a book and forget about everything for a while, it was best you found Rhysand and asked him about your nightmare.
You walked through the halls, finding the house unusually empty. Rhysand wasnt in his office, or any of the sitting rooms. Eventually you found Feyre out in the garden with Nyx, letting him finger paint on a canvas in the grass.
“Hey, where’s your husband?” You said as you approached.
“Oh hey Y/N, he had something come up, he’ll be out most of the day. You’re welcome to join us here if you want.”
Feyre said as she turned toward you. She had paint smeared on her hands and a tiny blue handprint on her cheek.
“Thanks.” You said taking a seat next to the female, and smiling at Nyx.
You sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching Nyx mix the colors and trying not to stare at the way the light filtered through his tiny wings. You wondered what they felt like and how it would feel to have wings of your own. If you concentrated, you could almost feel them, like a phantom limb. This made you think of another pair of wings, and they way they had comforted you, blocking out the room around you as you had awoken from your nightmare, how perfectly they had framed Azriel as he stared down at you.
Suddenly you felt a caress against your mind, immediately recognizing it as Feyre, you snapped your mental walls up and tried to block her from seeing the image of a half naked Azriel in your bed.
Thankfully, even if she had seen it, Feyre was nice enough not to mention it.
“Did Mor talk to you about going out drinking tonight?” You asked, trying to change the subject.
“More like she demanded I go” Feyre said with a smile. “I would’ve said yes anyway. I think it’ll be good for all of us to get out for a while. You could use some fun.”
“You have no idea.” You said with a sigh, not knowing what all awaited you that night.
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@amdiriel @nothxney @toothhurtyam @goldentournesol
Chapter Two:
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/witchybitchy222/687285217080295424?source=share
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#send me asks#witchybitchy222#mine#renewal#azriel x female reader
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Coping mechanisms for non-functioning depressive episodes
DISCLAIMER – I am not a medical professional, and this is NOT good advice for those that can function above the level described in this post. These are my own personal techniques that I have used when I was so depressed that these were the only ways to function for me, and they may not work for everyone. If you have someone in your life who can help, please reach out!
Self-maintenance is impossible but important. Small things like brushing your teeth, changing clothes, showering etc may be literally not possible in a bad episode. When this happens, I try to remind myself that doing something a little bit is still better than nothing. For example, I end up with glasses all around my room and bed – maybe try putting a toothbrush and toothpaste next to your bed and keep a glass of water (to drink but also to spit). It’s unhygienic and absolutely not ideal, but I’ve found that sometimes leaning over to brush my teeth without having to get up has sometimes been the only reason I’ve not got dentures yet. You can also try cleaning the glass when you go to the toilet.
Similarly, changing clothes is a small thing that will not only help you feel as though you’ve achieved something, but will also feel better and keep you fresher if you aren’t gonna be showering. Again, for me getting out and getting naked in my room can be daunting, effort, and humiliating in a bad episode. To get over this I would try to put out an outfit next to my bed, and several pairs of clean undies – meaning I can get changed under my covers without sitting up. It actually helped me feel as though I was more ready to get out of bed.
Messy room? Making you feel like shit? But can’t move to clean it? One thing that might help is just move *one* thing. When you go to the toilet, or get up for a snack or whatever, just move one or two things. Then stop. You don’t NEED to do it all at once. Your brain is interpreting the time-consuming chore of cleaning the whole room, but you aren’t doing that, tell your brain you are just moving around one or two things and then follow through. One of the reasons cognitive dysfunctions can take hold so strongly is the perception that you’re about to complete a large task, so try to break it up into a bunch of little tasks and try to remove the time pressure – it doesn’t work it you still aim to have cleaned your room in the day, because that’s still the same long task. Today you are just putting away your makeup. Tomorrow you are just stacking your plates, the next day you are just going to put your laundry in a pile, maybe even separate clean from dirty. Just try to take your time and understand that you are not functioning at full capacity.
If you can try to view showering as a relaxing activity, do try and shift your mindset – but if you really can’t bring yourself to have one, just remember Pits, Bits, and (if you have them) Tits! Those are the main areas of sweat and dead skin and a little rinse under a sink or a wipe, and a little bit of deodorant can go a long way. If you have micellar water, just wiping your face once a day can be a very basic skincare that gets rid of sweat and excess oils (this might be different for different skins and people). Hair can be left a surprising long time without needing a wash unless you have a skin condition- if it starts getting very greasy maybe try covering it when lying in bed to avoid oils rubbing off on your face and sheets, which can lead to breakouts and other things that can cause an episode to spiral. Also braiding it if it is loose can also help to prevent tangling. Try to find tips from other people who have struggled with depression for your hair type, because it can vary greatly depending on length and curl.
If you can change you sheets, that’s great! Try to do that once a week, if you can’t, try to at least change your pillowcase – it takes 30 seconds and it’s the most important part of the bed to change. (Unless you lie with your face on the sheet – if you do change that) If all else fails, bring a towel from the bathroom and lie on that. Keeping things clean and slightly more comfortable is paramount.
If you tend to over or under eat during an episode – try not to beat yourself up about it! It might not be healthy but while you are struggling, feeling guilty about a temporary difference in your diet is not going to be helpful for you. Once you begin leaving your depressive episode make sure you don’t immediately jump back to how much you were eating before! It might seem like a good idea but depending on how long you’ve been experiencing the episode your body has likely adjusted to the amount of food you were eating before. If you tend to overeat, change the amount you are eating in small increments that reduce a little bit each day (and I do mean a tiny bit) to make sure your body isn’t left wanting – that leads to cravings and sometimes eating more than you had intended to in the first place. If you tend to undereat, try to increase the number of times a day you eat. Even if they are small portions, try to eat maybe 5 times a day to make sure you are getting enough nutrition.
Open the window. That’s it, open the window. Let in some light, let in some air. Both those things are good for you, and it only takes one action. For me, lying down in the dark and warm is a lovely experience, and I tend to create that environment when I’m in an episode because it’s comforting, and while there is a time for comfort, during the day seeing the sun and feeling the wind can take you out of the rotcore mindset, plus it helps with any scents that might have accumulated during the episode. Sometimes I even find that opening the window and looking outside distracts me from something I was thinking about before. However, if you struggle with suicidal ideation to the point that you are worried about going near the window it might be wise to give this one a miss (or ask someone else to open the window for you).
Those are my personal tips from the various times in my life I’ve struggled with depression, and the things and coping mechanisms I have developed, and I’m fully aware they may not work for many people but I hope someone out there finds this useful.
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Chapter 3: Oath
A/N: Welcome to the third chapter of Top Gun: Baby, a love story following Bradley Bradshaw and Allie Campbell. This story is sequential, so if you have not already read the first few chapters, please go back and do so! All links to chapters and their mood boards can be found on my masterlist. I am dozens of chapters into this story and I absolutely HATE going in and editing these. I promise my skills in writing improve as we move forward. Like any story, the first few chapters are used to build background. Once Allie comes into the story, it gets WAY better. I had so much anxiety editing this chapter you have no idea! I mention this in my notes for every chapter, but just in case you missed it– I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)
Warnings: Swearing, Angst against a loved one
Chapter Three: Oath
BRADLEY’S POV
I was already finished getting changed into my white works, holding onto my copy of Reef Points as others were still messing with their white fabrics and dixie cup hats. This is the official “handbook” if you will that all Naval Academy students have to have memorized by the end of Plebe Summer. All it is are facts and details about the USNA and Naval missions, histories, and traditions. Like a textbook that you use for a college course.
Lucky for me, I was able to get my hands on one earlier this year thanks to Hollywood, another naval man that flew with my dad. He contacted me after I received my acceptance letter and promised that if I ever needed anything, he would help. That was code for “If you want me to put in a good word, I’ll do it”. I am a man of my own integrity and have every intention of creating my own repudiation. What the fuck am I saying? There’s no way anyone generational can create their own rep in this field. I am and will forever be known as “Goose’s kid”. It fucking sucks. I hate it, and am headstrong enough to prove them wrong with any misconceptions they might have of me, but I know for some navalmen, that will be excruciatingly difficult. I want to do this on my own. I want to prove that I should be here, not just that I could be here because of my dad.
Within the next few minutes, we were assigned our ICAO Company. A group of ten women were assigned to the Alpha Company. Natasha was one of them. She gave me a wave as she walked over to her quarters, in her dress whites, which fit her perfectly. I looked like a clown. I hated the uniforms, but didn’t want to complain too much, because there was a point in my life where I thought I would never get the chance to wear them.
I was one of the last to be called to a group, assigned to the November Company. Once we made it to our quarters, which was on the first floor of the building, I heard an Officer yell out “102 Bradshaw and Frasier”. Someone Frasier, whoever he was, was going to be my roommate for the next four years.
I walked forward and made eye contact with him as he walked to the front as well. “Looks like it’s us!” He said in a comedic tone. I could already tell he was going to be a character. Honestly, I would’ve preferred it this way. I would rather be with someone goofy like me than be with a hardass.
We walked into the room and noticed that there were 2 sets of bunks. Whoever Frasier made his way to the one on the right, so I made my way to the one on the left. The bunks were made of a deep gray metal and the room was covered in tan white paint. There were two white sheets on both ends of the beds, a fitted one and a flat one. Both polyester. Score! I loved polyester sheets. My mom would surprise me on random occasions and take me to a hotel to sleep when I was younger. Most of the time it was when I did something good in school, like scoring a 100 on a big test or reporting a bullying situation to the teacher. I was considered a tattle tale when I was younger, but I didn’t care! I got to sleep in a hotel and swim in their pools! So, you bet your sweet ass when I found someone getting pounded at recess, I was the first one to run to the teachers and alert them of the situation. I would do ANYTHING to get to sleep in those polyester sheets! Damn, I was a hot dog.
“I’m Bradley.” I introduced myself, holding out my hand.
“Emmett.” He said with a big smile on his face, gripping my hand and giving it a light shake.
“Nice to meet you.” I said, watching him as he put on his sheets.
“Quit staring at my ass man.” He muttered out with a corner of the fitted sheet in his mouth, swaying his hips from side to side as a way to show off his backside.
I let out an airy laugh as I turned to make my bed. I was going to like this guy. He was equally as well humorous as me. Just maybe a little more immature.
“So what’s your story?” I asked him as I focused on my sheets.
“Buy me dinner first.” He quickly responded. I chuckled at his remark and shook my head a little. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to respond, which he eventually did. “My mom caught me and my buddies getting high and told me that I had two options: report my dealer to the cops or enlist in the military”.
I shot up from my bunk, looking over at him, his hands here resting on his hips in a way too casual way for his recent admission.
“What?!” I asked, still in disbelief.
“No, I'm just kidding,” He said, turning back around, “Well, not about the getting high part. She found my bong and I knew I was fucked. So when she confronted me about it I was able to shoot back with the ‘I’m already planning on applying to the Academy’ card. Which was true! I was already going anyway, it just bought me some leverage”.
“I maybe wouldn’t share that story with the Officers on base”.
“Oh yeah I know! They think I got the idea in church. Sitting in the front pew, on my knees, getting the idea all of a sudden, saying it was God talking to me. They ate that shit up”. Shit that was good. My admissions essay was about him, and my mom, and my dad. Basically how my whole life has been a fucking mess. I was able to buy myself some pity, but his essay topic, now that was just genius! “What about you?” He asked me.
“It’s generational” I said to him, which was just the abridged version of all of my shit events. I tucked the pillow case in the pillow and threw it to the edge of the bed.
“Cool!” Emmett exclaimed sarcastically. “You look a little old to be here”. He stated boldly.
This caused me to smirk and let out yet another airy laugh. “I’m 23.” I answered coldly again.
He had his hands back on his hips, looking at me as though I had more to add to our encounter. “Well, this has been a fascinating conversation” he remarked, yet in another sarcastic tone. “Got a girl?”
I shook my head as I adjusted the sheets on my bed.
“Yeah me neither.” He said quickly.
“What!” I exclaimed, turning to him, “How does a guy like you not have a girl!” I was saying it more in a sarcastically joking tone, but there was some truth to it, because he was quite fun.
“I know, it’s not fair.” he said slyly.
Just then, someone barged into our room. His eyes were a piercing green, his muscles protruding out of his solid black shirt, he wore navy green cargo pants and boots. His skin was a deep color of brown. “Ladies!” he yelled at us. He was definitely our detailer, the man in charge of training us for the summer.
“That would be us!” Emmett responded. Shit!
“Never speak unless spoken to!” The detailer screamed in his face. Emmett immediately went cold. “Now drop down and give me 20”. Before I could blink, Emmett was on the ground, doing pushups. “YOUR NOSE TOUCHES THE GROUND!” He screamed. Emmett went down further, until the tip of his nose grazed the tiled floor.
“And you!” He yelled to me, in less of an angry tone since I didn’t do anything wrong, “15”!
I got down quickly and did my push ups in perfect posture. The tips of my toes were on the ground and I went low until my nose was touching the floor. I couldn’t see him, but I saw an adjustment in his shadow, telling me that he was impressed with my performance.
We both finished at the same time, standing up and looking at him. “You always stand at attention when being spoken to!” Both of us stood up, sticking our chests out, making sure to mirror each other so that if we messed up, at least we went down together. The detailer sighed and let out a “Jesus” before walking over to us and adjusting our postures to what it should be.
“My name is Denzel Housemen. You will call me sir until I tell you to stop”. He finished adjusting me and I made sure to memorize the position my body was in, holding my stance until I was told to stand down. “When I am not near you, assume that I’m close. I can approach you at any time of any day. So be ready”. He said as he adjusted Emmett.
He took a step back and examined both of us, “At ease gentlemen.” He said smoothly.
Both Emmett and I dropped our stance and looked at him, ready to go down whenever we should. We heard yelling coming from other quarters and assumed that everyone else was becoming acquainted with their trainers.
Denzel looked me up and down. “You must be the Bradshaw boy.” He stated, confident in his answer.
My face pulled down, knowing that he knew about me and the story of my family. “Yes, sir.” I said quietly.
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” He started to scream at me.
“Yes, sir!” I yelled back, audible with clear diction.
“We expect great things from you”. He said calmly, before acknowledging Emmett. “Oh yeah, the kiss ass ‘found my calling at church’ admissions essay. Mom bust you for drugs or something?” He asked.
Emmett was about to answer and then froze, opting not to answer. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” Denzel yelled at him.
“No, sir!” Emmett yelled back.
I had to bite my tongue hard, fighting back with everything I had not to laugh.
“Well, you both seem very intelligent. We’ll see if you last the night. Follow me gentlemen- and in proper posture! Pivot on your feet when you make a turn and never look down. I promise I will let you know if the ground erodes from the Earth”.
Emmett and I followed him as he made his way to the commons area. Men and women were lining up in their white works, standing at attention and facing forward. Most parents had stayed for this portion, the most important portion. The oath of office.
Right at 18:00, a Commandment of Midshipmen began the ceremony. They first informed us about our statement of intent and then ordered us to raise our right hand and repeat after him.
I looked over my left shoulder and saw Natasha, she raised her right eyebrow quickly, moving it up and down while she raised her right hand. I smirked at her and then looked over my right shoulder, he was standing right at the end of the row I was in, which only had 3 of my classmates separating us. Although he wasn’t beaming with happiness, he didn’t look upset or angry either. One could say he looked proud.
I shot him a disapproving look before raising my right hand, keeping a sharp glare on him as I repeated after the commanding officer;
“HAVING BEEN APPOINTED A MIDSHIPMAN IN THE UNITED STATES
NAVY,
I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I WILL SUPPORT AND DEFEND THE
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES
AGAINST ALL ENEMIES, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC;
THAT I WILL BEAR TRUE FAITH AND ALLEGIANCE TO THE SAME;
THAT I TAKE THIS OBLIGATION FREELY,
WITHOUT ANY MENTAL RESERVATION OR PURPOSE OF EVASION;
AND THAT I WILL WELL AND FAITHFULLY DISCHARGE THE DUTIES OF THE OFFICE
ON WHICH I AM ABOUT TO ENTER,
SO HELP ME GOD.
I closed my mouth and continued to stare at him, keeping my right hand raised as people cheered around me. I was now in the Navy. He lost. I won.
He didn’t cheer. He didn’t even smile. Instead, he looked at the ground before shifting his weight and walking away. Having no intention of staying any longer.
Yeah, that’s right. YOU lost. I won!
#naval aviator#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradsaw x reader#rooster fanfic#top gun fanfiction#top gun#rooster imagine#maverick imagine#jake seresin#love strories#pete mitchell#natasha trace#natasha x reader#writers on tumblr
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[Star Wars: Rebels] with sparks of what i used to know
despite all the time i've been spending on tumblr lately i had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA that @skybridgerweek was even a thing but between that and reading heir to the empire for book club i was struck by the sudden need to work on the ezra and luke sequel to "far from the world that i made" aka my Rebels S5/Search for Ezra fic I wrote for the SWBB this year.
We're going to pretend this is for "Day 6 - The Force".
Please enjoy 10k of Ezra and Luke meeting for the first time, and if you want more of them, (unofficial) sequels are a first kiss here and some snuggles/cuddles here
(you can now follow the series on AO3 if you're interested in learning when the final (planned) fic is uploaded)
There is a flower that Ezra keeps with him, tucked safely away into whatever pouch or pocket he can slip it into. It is still just as blue as the day it was given to him — months ago now, on an alien ship as they left the orbit of a planet that tried to devour him.
Ezra has not heard from Un’hee or Vah’nya since then. Which is fine. He thinks it's fine. It’s hard to tell if it’s fine, because sometimes he still has nightmares of an endless swirling blue tunnel of an endless gray landscape of a flash of glowing red eyes that he has spent so long fearing that he jerks awake covered in sweat and a scream jammed in his throat.
What are the things around him that he can use to ground himself?
Bed. Pillows. Sheets that smell like the detergent that Hera uses and fills him with a sense of home.
A toy of Jacen’s, misshapen in the shadows, that resolves itself into an X-wing as Ezra swings his legs out of bed.
His clothes from the day before, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair instead of being put away properly.
His lightsaber on the table beside his bed.
The pale blue flower beside his lightsaber.
Ezra dresses in the clothes from the day before instead of putting them away and finishes the ritual of getting ready by tucking the flower away into a pocket and clipping his lightsaber to his belt.
The chrono by his door says that it’s still an hour before dawn which means it's a 50/50 chance that Hera will be away. Her sleep habits are almost as bad as his, but she’s had a war and a child to mess up that schedule.
He just has the things that aren’t real haunting him if he lets himself drift too far.
Instead of running the risk of crossing paths with Hera and having to answer questions or, worse still, given space and a cup of caf in the silence of the pre-dawn kitchen as she looks at him and understands without him having to say anything, Ezra goes out the window.
He’ll send her a message to let her know where he is. Once he gets to the city, the white spires of it gleaming like a third moon risen from the ocean and plains. From the heart of Lothal itself.
Ezra ignores the speeders tucked against the side of the porch and instead takes off at a light jog. They’re not that far from the edges of the city anyway, and Ezra feels brittle with starlight and filled with electricity that won’t let him sit still.
This isn’t the first time that this has happened, and it won’t be the last. At least he feels pulled towards the city this time. He can remember who he is in the city, surrounded by all the bits and pieces of his childhood and his life and his after life. Everything that made him who he is worked into the dirt of this place under boots and claws. The blood sweat and tears used to bind the buildings together.
Sometimes, Ezra doesn’t know who he is. A boy lost to time, parents gone Master gone future gone. But he will come to the city and lose himself in front of the painting Sabine made and try to remember where he ends and where he begins.
Home is not just a place, he thinks, remembering what he told that planet that doesn’t exist. Not really, despite the flower in his pocket. Home is the people I have made it with.
The first hints of pale pink-blue dawn caress the upper spires as Ezra wends his way through the city streets. He won’t stay that long, he tells himself. He will wait for the city to fully wake, then he’ll message Sabine — see if she wants to get caf. Or maybe Jai.
Or maybe he would call Hera, ask her what was on the grocery list and he would buy the groceries as an apology for leaving without telling her he felt like he was breaking because she would know, more than most people she would know. They share that loss.
But first he will take a moment to wake with the city. He will stand in the ruins of the old assembly hall, just as empty and hollowed out; and as the sun rises, he will feel himself fill with the warmth of who he is, who he is supposed to be, the person people remember.
The person he remembers.
It is there, with the early morning light spilling in through the mouth of the hall, it is then, not quite sure if he will ever be himself again, that Ezra Bridger meets Luke Skywalker and his lightsaber remembers how to sing.
[[read the rest on ao3]]
#star wars#rebels#i'm not gonna go through the whole rigmarole of tagging this#just take it#skybridger#a lil miss fic#lil miss writings#verse: the scars that we're made of#i will throw links into the parent post because i don't care anymore#10pm is a great time to post a fic
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Hello!!
I really like the steddyhands ship and i absolutely adore morning scenes. Could i trouble you for a soft grumbly morning cuddle and some breakfast. (Extra points is they all bicker while making the breakfast)
Thank you!
PROMPT: Steddyhands soft grumbly morning cuddles and breakfast
TOS: Fluff & Lemon
LENGTH: Medium - 790 words
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The slowly rising sun was appearing out of the ocean's veil. Its rays were slyly crawling up Izzy's body, which was kept close between the sheets and the captains. They eventually reached his sleepy face and of course, he started to rub his tired eyes. A few blinks made him realize his placement in the bed. He still gets flustered, no matter how many times they've done this. He looked to find his clothes draped on top of the couch. He then slowly started to peel the blankets off of him, legs carefully slipping out. But once he started to lean away, Ed instantly took a hold of his wrist, eyes still closed.
"Iz," Ed said muddled in the pillow. "It can wait..."
"Oh really? My duty can wait?" Izzy questioned with sarcasm tainted in his tone.
"Yes. Now lay back down. Please...?" He used his deer-like eyes to try to win him over.
Izzy exhaled faintly, taken aback by his glorious mocha eyes, yet his trance ended fast.
"Fuck this, I'm going." He mumbled.
He moved his legs over Stede's blanketed body. Ed sighed.
"Stede." He blankly said.
Suddenly, Izzy's torso was gripped tight, making the top half of his body hang off the bed. He was amazed by Stede's hidden strength but he would never say that to his face, ever.
"Got him, dear." Stede said groggily, his purple mask still covering his eyes.
Ed uncovered his chocolate brown eyes and kissed him tenderly. They gazed for a while until Stede whispered:
"I'll go grab breakfast, ok?"
"Of course, hun. Since you're the only one decently clothed." Ed whispered back.
This made Stede giggle through his nose. "Let's switch places, alright?"
Stede then let go of Izzy's waist only to be replaced with Ed's tan tattooed hands and arms. He hugged him tightly which made Izzy sit up against Ed's warm chest and stomach so he could be more comfortable since he could tell he was going to be stuck there for a while and there was no way of getting out now.
"I'll be back soon, my loves!" Stede said, putting on his yellow robe over his translucent white nightgown.
Ed gave him a homey grin while Izzy just gave him a glare and grumble.
"Why are you such a grumpster in the morning, Iz?" Ed asked once Stede was gone, resting his chin on Izzy's exposed shoulder.
He didn't respond.
"Oh, you're giving me the silent treatment, then? Ok, I see how it is. Well..." He then slowly slid his hand against Izzy's bare chest and neck, then jerked his chin to face him, grazing his thumb on his bottom lip.
"At least this doesn't require talking." They fiercely started kissing, tongue and all.
Izzy ran his fingers through Ed's snowy ebony hair, cautiously placing his head on the back of his neck. But he squeezed Ed's plush thigh harshly, in need of support. After a while, they both needed a breather from the passionate battle. Izzy was breathing heavily while Ed was delicately gasping for air. Both looked into each other's eyes with arousal, filled to the brim.
"Ah, you've shut him up." Stede said, walking in with a tray in his hands.
Straight away, their arousal drained out, being replaced with the clouds of admiration for Stede's rays of kindness.
"Yep, nothing that a kiss won't fix." Ed responded.
He started to get up, feet wandering to the table to look upon the delightful breakfast Stede was placing in their spots.
"There we go!" Stede said, presenting his neat arrangement of the plates.
This made Stede smile and laugh from adoration. He quickly gave Stede a kiss, his hands cupping his doll face. He naturally wrapped his arms around Ed's waist, his red robe rubbing his arms sensually and graciously, wanting the kiss to last longer.
"I love you, you know that?" Ed whispered to Stede.
"Of course, my darling! But do you know... that I love you more?" He whispered back.
They both giggled softly. "Well, breakfast is served!"
*********************************************************************
They all finished their food and tea, conversating through it all. It wasn't until Izzy had to break off.
"Well, I'd better head off, for real this time." Izzy said, tightening his tie.
"Not before we give you our farewell kisses!" Stede said eagerly.
"Oh fuck off." Just as he started to walk away, his wrist was gripped and pulled back, Stede's hand latching onto his waist.
"I said... not before." His tone started stern but ended cheerfully.
"O-ok then, yeh." Izzy said softly, enticed by Stede's hidden dominance.
They then gave Izzy's cheeks a peck of love.
"Right then, have a wonderful day, Iz!" said Stede.
"See you later then, mate." Ed said chillfully.
Izzy was entranced for a bit but quickly headed off to his job.
*********************************************************************
Once he arrived on deck, the crew was busy and flirty, as usual. But it wasn't until Lucius slowly crept up next to him and questioned quietly, in a sultry tone:
"Sore?"
To which Izzy responded with a coarse, "Fuck off."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, I did my best.
Hope you like it!!
#ofmd#our flag means death#OFMD#izzy hands#edward teach#ed teach#stede bonnet#steddy hands#steddyhands#our flag means death fanfiction#ofmd fanfic#ofmd izzy hands#izzy hands ofmd#ofmd edward teach#edward teach ofmd#stede bonnet ofmd#ofmd stede bonnet#israel hands#our flag means death imagines#our flag means death imagine#ofmd imagines#ofmd imagine
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Excerpt of chapter 6 of 8, from crushcrushcrush now posted on ao3.
Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, rated M, childhood friends to strangers modern AU, no archive warnings. Currently 38675 words.
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“So tell me, what’s your new year’s resolution?”
Steve considered the question from across the table carefully, as he watched the bubbles rise up through his glass of cider. They were almost two weeks into January and he still hadn’t decided on one. He had thought about all the usual dull things. Exercise more, eat healthier, find a new hobby. The first day back at school after Christmas break had started with god damn Janet practically trapping everyone in the faculty lounge to insist they all sign up for a half marathon in the summer, in aid of an oil spill clean-up in Alaska. The look she shot Steve when he pointed out that her own name was missing from the sign-up sheet could have curdled milk. So it looked like he would be spending some more time a treadmill at the very least.
The only thing Steve thought he needed to do was to stop thinking about Eddie. He had spent every night since he got back scrolling through the precious few messages they had shared since late-November, re-reading them and convincing himself that not being able to send any more was for the best. Steve missed being able to scroll through Eddie’s profile and spend a few minutes at a time lingering on his favourite posts. He often wondered if he had posted anything new over the last few days. There was probably a picture of that nice pink wedding invitation that Chrissy had showed Steve, with that date in April on display for everyone to see. Steve was happy at least that he wouldn’t have to see that, or any pictures of the wedding day itself. Not being able to see the picture of the engagement ring anymore was another plus-point.
“Apart from those glasses, I mean,” added Dax to fill in the gap left by Steve’s hesitation to answer.
“What, you don’t like my glasses?” asked Steve with a shy smile, pushing them up his nose.
Dax held up a hand in surrender.
“I never said that,” he said. “Just never knew you needed them,”
Steve bit the inside of his cheek. Of course Dax never knew he needed glasses. Steve had never stayed the night, so had never taken them out in the bathroom before bed, or put them back in when morning came around. Not having to worry about them back in Hawkins had been nice though, so Steve had been wearing his glasses a lot more since he got home. His students thought he looked like Harry Potter, which he tried not to take too personally. And his decision to wear them more often was absolutely nothing to do with Eddie’s comment about liking them. That’s for sure.
“Less screen time, I guess,” sighed Steve, not entirely lying and talking just a touch too low for the noise of the bar around them. “Delete Instagram maybe, be ‘more in the moment’,”
Steve used air quotes around the last four words. He usually wouldn’t have actually answered a question like this from Dax, he would have just shrugged and said something like ‘didn’t make one’, but he was trying to be more involved in what they were talking about. The whole reason Steve had finally agreed to a message asking to meet up, having come up with an excuse to avoid it almost every day since he arrived back in Boston, was to follow through with his plan to let Dax into his life just that little bit more. You know, to actively try and turn this into a date. Not just go back to his place after three and a half drinks, and leave twenty minutes after tossing the condom into the trash.
Steve kept opening his mouth to ask questions about Dax’s day, or to finally ask what he did for a living, but he lost motivation every time. It was like he couldn’t find the right jumping off point to suddenly start asking him about himself. Instead Steve just kept sipping his drinks like a particularly gormless fish. It seemed like a great idea at the time when he decided that he should put more effort into whatever it was they had, whatever it was they were doing, but in practise it didn’t seem so easy. Even with the effort he had managed to put in so far this evening, it was stilted. Like Steve didn’t realise until now that they really didn’t have too much to talk about, because they had never tried too hard to talk before. Did they even have anything in common?
Dax nodded from across the table and watched Steve take a very long a gulp of his drink. They were doing their usual Thursday night act of pretending to enjoy happy hour before ditching their fourth drink and going back to Dax’s place. They had just ordered their third. Cider in a pint glass. That was at least one thing they both liked. They both bought the same brand of condoms, there was a second. Steve was struggling to think of a third. He wasn’t sure a preference for cherry flavoured lube counted. Steve wished he hadn’t have mentioned Instagram, not with Dax’s follow request still sitting there unanswered. But hey, it was entirely possible that it had gone completely unnoticed anyway.
“Well it’s not like I’ve ever seen it to miss it if you do,” chided Dax with a gentle smile.
Or not.
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