#i can feel myself falling back into bad habits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freedomfireflies · 8 months ago

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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

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tulip-room · 6 months ago

Text

"You're late" "I know...I'm sorry."

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Words: 3k

Content: Sakusa falls out of love with you. You realize it too no matter how much he would like to pretend you don't. Eventually he realizes he was just scared. Hopefully he isn't too late.

a/n: I wrote this because my lovely mutual @hiraethwa asked me for it. I of course had to take the chance to write angst. As you can see I didn't stop myself and it's a bit longer than my stories usually are. I hope you guys enjoy it!

It’s almost poetic that the things that made you fall in love with someone are the same reasons you fall out of love with them. Their passion for their job turns into fights about not making time for each other. Their cleanliness turns into fights about how you don’t do the dishes properly. Them speaking their mind turns into hurtful words that neither can take back. Things that with the right communication wouldn’t be so bad. But that was another bad habit the two of you had.

Not talking to each other after getting mad. You were always the one to “fix” it though. Putting a bandaid on a broken glass never gets rid of the crack though.

Sakusa thinks these are the sorts of things that force him to take off his rose tinted glasses, ones that had turned muddy and foggy, and look at you. You leaving the dishes overnight in the sink because work was so exhausting now made him upset. He was exhausted when he got home but still managed to clean up after himself. You drooling in your sleep used to be cute but now all he can think of is how disgusting he feels.

You disgust him.

He used to let you lay up against him because your touch used to bring him comfort. Now it makes his skin crawl.

You’re not blind. You can see the way he has started to recoil when he thinks you’re going to touch him. The walls of your home have started to lose their warmth. The blankets not holding in their warmth like they used to. You shiver even when the house is set to 80. Sakusa’s cold gaze makes icicles go down your back. The same brown eyes you used to love. The same eyes that used to look at you like you hung the stars.

The hands that used to hold you now sit close to his body. The lips that used to kiss yours when he arrived home are gone. He thinks you don’t notice. He thinks that you can’t see how he forces himself to hold your hand in public. He doesn’t want his friends to see what he’s become.

A man who is no longer in love with you. You who used to be the light of his life. His friends aren’t stupid. He would like to think they are but they see what’s going on. They see as your skin turns paler. How your lips are always chapped and broken from biting on them. It’s at dinner that one of them notices the first petal.

The forsaken petals. Komori wants to write it off as just a stray petal from outside that got caught in your hair. He knows better. And so do you. You know what’s going to happen to you. You’ve started wearing hats.

It’s the petals that also spur on your next fight.

“They’re everywhere! Where do they keep coming from?” Sakusa says as he picks up another flower petal that was sitting upon the couch. “You need to stop bringing them in here from wherever you’re getting them.” He never yells but his words hit just the same. It was your fault. It wasn’t his fault that he saw what you really were. Just someone who had managed to get him to fall in love with them. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Afterall, bandaids don’t fix breaks in glass, liquid still spills.

Here was the result of using bandaids to fix things that are broken. Sakusa was still none the wiser of what was going on. You had gotten better at hiding the petals. You had begun placing them in bags. You almost had done something that would’ve been truly evil. You had almost labelled the bags “What is left of me” and left while he was at work. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave no matter how badly you needed to. You loved him.

Love really is a fickle thing. Someone who you used to spend every minute with could become a stranger to you again in less than a week. Sakusa felt like a stranger with a familiar face. The man you loved no longer loved you. You weren’t entirely sure how much longer you had left. It could be days. It could be weeks. You just knew that eventually there wouldn't be a you to come back to.

It seemed everyone but him had realized what was happening. Komori had enough of it. You still had your lunches, it was Komori who had introduced you two afterall. He was still your best friend. He still cared for you. He was sure Sakusa did too. “He just needs some sense knocked into him.” or “Give him another chance, I’ve never seen him love someone as much as he lov-loves you.” Komori had almost messed up during that sentence. He almost said ‘loved’.

He couldn’t see his best friend destroy themselves like this anymore. That night he took Sakusa out for dinner. They were going to talk about it until Sakusa realized he did still love you. He was going to realize that you were still the love of his life.

“What happened.”

“What?”

“What could they have possibly done to deserve what you’re doing to them?”

“Y/N?” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “What am I doing to them?”

“They’re dying.” Simple and to the point. “They’re dying and it’s because of you.”

He scoffs. “What are you on about? They’re perfectly fine.”

“No. They’re not. They’re dying. Why don’t you love them anymore? Tell me why.” Komori looks at Sakusa in a serious way. He would answer this question.

“I don’t know. They’re annoying. The things I used to find charming aren’t anymore. They never do the dishes, we’re always fighting and they try to ``fix” it-” he puts quotes around the world. “Taping up a broken window doesn’t mean it never broke.”

Komori shakes his head. “They annoy you? That’s what caused you to decide you don’t love them anymore? You realize it takes two people to break and fix a relationship.” Him saying that made Sakusa roll his eyes again. He looked out the window. He was starting to tune his cousin out.

Sakusa wasn’t the problem here. It was that you were too demanding. You were too much. You always wanted more. Volleyball season started up again so he couldn’t have as many dates with you. He thought you would be used to it by now. You had been fine with it for the past few years. Why the sudden change now? He thinks back.

The first year of you two being together was perfect. The two of you had communicated what you needed and what you expected. The first time he had missed a date he had texted you not even five minutes later letting you know the situation and that he would try better next time. By the third week of this happening you had learned he wasn’t able to focus on two things at once. Or more accurately he couldn’t focus on you and volleyball. That was fine. You can’t expect to be the center of his universe all the time. He always abologized for the dates he did miss. Once volleyball season was over you found that he was all yours again.

By year two you hoped it would be different. It wasn’t. Once again it started out fine. Text messages to let you know he wouldn’t be able to make it. You still weren’t upset enough to really fight about it yet though. He would bring you gifts the next day to apologize. A kiss and a sorry attached to whatever gadget he had gotten you.

By year three the gifts made you angry. He had time to go out and get a gift but not enough time to show up for one date? He was tired, you would tell yourself. It’s not you, he’s just busy. Maybe you’re lazy. Maybe you’re the problem. Maybe he just didn’t want to be around someone as needy as you. Who would to be honest? This was the year you had finally brought it up to him. A mistake.

“I can’t do this Kiyoomi.”

“Can’t do what?” “This. I know that volleyball is important to you but I want to feel important too.” You pleaded with him.

“You are. I’m here right now aren’t I? Let’s go on a date now.” He sighed and he turned off the TV and started getting up.

It was no use. He wasn’t going to understand. You still felt like an afterthought. You didn’t think it would ever change. What was the point of it all? Maybe you should just leave. Maybe then you could find someone who would make you feel like you were enough.

This was also the year you downloaded a dating app. You couldn’t bring yourself to actually ever open it though. No matter how insignificant you felt you would never do this to him. You couldn’t live with yourself if you did this.

The app was deleted almost as quickly as it had finished downloading.

Maybe what he really needed was just more. More than you had. Someone who was able to understand his love for volleyball. That it was his love first and it would be his last as well. No matter. In a few more months he would be yours again. In a few more months he would act like nothing had ever happened. In a few more months he would apologize with gifts that made your stomach churn and with sweet words that left a bad taste in your mouth.

Year four. This year. This was the year that he hadn’t come back to you. The year he hadn’t returned to being your sweet wonderful boyfriend. You had waited until after volleyball season to plan a date but he had gotten so used to not having them that he had forgotten. He had forgotten about dinner and he had forgotten about you. He hadn’t even come home that night. You were sure he hadn’t because the dishes were still in the sink. If he had come home he would have done them and then told you off.

You waited for three hours before you got the notification. It was from one of his teammates. More specifically that they had posted to their story. You opened it and there he was. In the background drinking with the rest of them. He had left you to go drink. Something he doesn’t like to do. Something he obviously liked better than you.

Your mother had called you the next day to ask if she should start wedding preparations. You didn’t have the heart to tell her your worries. You just laughed with her and told her to hold off for a little longer. You were sure it would be soon. That’s what you told her.

Now you were dreading the message that she would have to make a different kind of preparation. A funeral. You didn’t understand how someone could do this. How he could go from caring and sweet to cold and distant so quickly. You didn’t know when you had started to feel numb instead of sad. How the cold eyes that would turn to you stopped making you shiver.

You didn’t know when you had stopped crying. At some point the tears had stopped and your breathing stopped being labored.

Maybe the change wasn’t as sudden as he originally thought. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed the change until it had already happened. How you stopped planning dates. How you stopped holding his hand as tight. Your eyes had changed. They were once so full of trust and love. Now they were dull. You still held love for him in your eyes, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just a joke.

He needed to rethink everything now. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He thinks about everything. Why did he start loving you in the first place?

He loved how you always surprised him. That you challenged him to be better. You didn’t let him off easy just because you liked him. Sure Komori was the one who introduced you but you were the one who chased him. It seems like you never stopped. Now he was even further away than he had started.

Nothing more than a stranger who knew your secrets. A person you loved but had changed and not in a way that included you. He thought about why he had started dating you.

Because you were good for him. At some point he softened. He allowed room in his life for another person. One who could see his ups and downs. Because around you he felt safe. He felt loved and he discovered he wanted you to feel that way around him too. He wanted to provide you with safety. He wanted you to feel loved. He wanted you to feel like you were always enough for him.

He shakes his head. Funny way of showing it. He had done nothing but put you off since that first year. You had been nothing but supportive. You had understood when he had to miss a date because of practice. Except he didn’t have to miss those dates. He chose to. Every time he missed one was of his own accord. He realized he hadn’t thought of it as important enough. He hadn’t thought of you as important enough.

How could he have been this cruel? He didn’t think of himself as cruel before this moment. He hadn’t really thought about it. He thought it was for the best that he pushed you away until you finally left. He thought it would be too much work to break it off with you from the start. He knows now that you hadn’t gone away. He had. He was the one who had started every fight. The one who hadn’t communicated his feelings and had outright ignored yours.

He thought about why he didn’t love you anymore.

Because you left dishes in the sink? Was that the best he could come up with? He knew why he decided he didn’t love you anymore. Because you made him feel. You made him afraid. You made him feel so safe that he was in a constant state of waiting for it to end.

If he pushed you away first you couldn’t do the same to him. If he decided he didn’t love you anymore it wouldn’t hurt when you did finally leave. He was scared that you would leave. He didn’t love you because he was scared you would leave. Now that it’s laid out in front of him he sees how stupid he was. He still has one more realization though.

You were dying.

Those flower petals he had gotten mad about. They weren’t just flower petals. They were the cause of your death. And from the amount of them there had been a week ago, you didn’t have much time left. Suddenly he wasn’t so calm. How could he be? The person he loved was going to die. And it was his fault. You were going to die because you thought the same thing he had. That he didn’t love you anymore.

He looked towards Komori with wide eyes. “I think I still love Y/N.”

“You think?”

Sakusa takes a breath. “I’m in love with Y/N.”

“Go tell them that before you’re too late.”

Sakusa gets up from the table and runs to get a taxi.

You’re laying in your bed. Numb. You laugh bitterly. Right up until the end you loved him. You gave him all of you. How inconsiderate of you to leave such a mess for him to pick up. The same petals that he had just gotten upset over were the petals of the same flower he had gotten you for your first date. The same flowers that started your love were going to finish them.

Sakusa was starting to get desperate. He didn’t deserve you anymore but he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to mend what he had broken if that’s what it took. You weren’t picking up your phone. “Come on. Pick up. Please, pick up.”

The phone was ringing beside you but you didn’t have the energy to reach it. You barely had the energy to keep your eyes open anymore.

Sakusa bursts through the door. His breath is uneven and rapid. He scans the room and sees you nowhere in sight. He looks down and follows the trail of flowers leading to your room. He felt like it was only your room as he rarely slept there anymore. He opens the door and races to your bedside.

He grabs your hand and tries to catch his breath. “Y/N. Please. Open your eyes. I’m so sorry.”

Nothing.

“Please. I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that but I do. You deserve so much better than what I have given you. You deserve so much better than I can give you. But I love you. I’m sorry I was so blind before. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you because now I know what it feels like to not have you and it made me feel so empty. I know I’m being so selfish. I don’t deserve you. You. Beautiful you who lights up every room they’re in. You who loved me even though I only kept hurting you. Please Y/N. Open your eyes. I need you. I need you and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner.” He’s crying now. He doesn’t deserve to shed tears over you because he’s the reason you’re like this. But he does. He holds your hand and he cries.

“You’re late.” A dry, broken voice calls out. His head snaps up. There are those eyes you love so much.

“I know…I’m sorry.”

“I can’t forgive you yet.”

“I know.”

“I hate you for what you did.” “I know.”

“But I still love you. Please. Just. Love me better this time?”

“I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that I love you. Even if you don’t fully forgive me for what I’ve done. I will love you and prove it to you everyday. I promise.”

taglist: @hiraethwa @sanaexus

masterlist

rules

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #tulip writes #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa angst #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst

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housecow · 6 months ago

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i have knee problems stemming from an injury when i was younger. if i step wrong and fall in a certain way, the pain is so bad i can’t walk. but sometimes i like to fantasize: what if something even worse happens and i can’t walk for weeks? what if i happen to be in regular close contact with my feeder?

it’d be hard being told i have rest and let myself heal. there are plans coming up that have to be cancelled, the few active hobbies i have left take a hit. but…it’s so easy to accept every snack brought to me. after all, i sought out a feeder—this lifestyle is the one i’ve eaten myself towards. and he knows i have an inclination towards eating too much. that first week goes easier than it should; weight starts to pile on. but i miss going out, even running errands sounds nice. in the few moments my hands are absent of food or a shake i am regularly in contact with my friends.

the next week i’m better but… i feel slow. my feeder has started to keep people away because i need to rest and he’s right, healing is taxing on the body. i start responding less to others, too. our funnel has gotten so much more use in the last few days. the sugar and constant snacks step up and i can tell there is an agenda behind it all but *god* it feels good to be doted on. he helps me through the necessary exercises but trips across the house are rare. i notice how difficult it is to lift myself up now—how sedentary have i been?

that question doesn’t cross my mind again, there are better things to focus on. my feeder knows how to use my adhd to his advantage—food, sex, TV, and games all provide the dopamine hit needed to keep me distracted. the 3rd week is similar enough to the 2nd: ritualistic feeding becomes the norm. we don’t need a valve to control the flow on the funnel anymore, he knows i can finish everything. my belly is swollen out into my lap all of the time now, if i hold my boobs aside i can see new stretch marks creeping across my expanding hips. i expect the snacks, “babe, can you grab me something from the fridge?” is a phrase heard several times in the day. and my feeder obliges.

the 4th week we have an appointment and im told i should walk and start being active again. the doctor looks nervous though and tells me i need to watch my weight, he says something like “its alarming how quickly this happened,” but i blocked it out because—i can’t even see how much i weigh? my belly blocks the view now. oh my god.

in the car afterwards my feeder expresses doubt at the situation: “you don’t look so steady on your feet, i think you should still take it easy.” his eyes meet mine and i don’t miss the brief glance away, desire obvious at the sight of my rounded figure that’s entirely his fault. i know what he wants and i can’t deny myself that want, either. and he knows better in these situations, i trust his judgement. maybe it is best to stay in. plans can be pushed further back… the walk back to the car was a little difficult, too.

the next weeks—or does it span months?—pass in a blur. staying in is all i want to do. although i’m supposedly healthy again, i rarely get up and walk around more than needed. “needed” means a slow, clumsy walk to the fridge and back to either the couch or the bed. when my feeder is not there to feed me himself he takes time to order food to the door. bending down to pick things up is a monumental effort for me—a heavy, wide belly pressing into my fattened thighs. my swollen tits obscure my vision but serve as an excellent table when i need.

my feeder comes home one day and im asleep, taking up more than my fair share of the couch. my breaths are not easy and its obvious how much i ate beforehand: mostly-empty 2 liters, takeout containers haphazardly stacked on top of one another as they were finished, countless snack packages balled up and stuck between the couch cushions because sometimes i like to squirrel stuff away. as if there was a chance of hiding these habits my feeder built.

but the best part of it all is the empty pitcher sat against the corner of the couch, because i couldn’t reach to the coffee table to properly set it down with so much fat making every movement difficult.

the remnants a weight gain shake. our usual ingredients of cake mix, melted ice cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup, nutella, crushed oreos. it was hastily made, however, and it’s obvious by the chocolatey powder on the sides of the container that it was about the calories this time, not the taste. he can see where some escaped the pitcher and poured down my overly plump, round face and past the lovingly cultivated double chin. it dripped onto my breasts, lovely puddles of calories he wish made it inside of me even if the sight is wonderful. after that thought, an idea comes up. how deep are the rolls he’s gifted me? a cow this size needs to be used.

#feedism.#feeder/feedee #feedee.#hucow.#writing #is this too much 🫣#i wrote this late last night after overeating :3 #formatting may be edited later #it was written with big chunky paragraphs but i find that hard to read #it may read choppily bc of how i split it though :((

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6okuto · 2 years ago

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MOMENTS YOU FLUSTER THEM

gn!reader x kageyama, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi, osamu, aran, sakusa | flip it around baby! we need to fluster more men!!!

KAGEYAMA watches you pat down all of your pockets and reach into your bag. he frowns when you swear under your breath. “are you missing something?” you let out a deep sigh but continue to rummage around. “yeah, i had something to give you,” you complain. tobio’s eyes widen and he stiffens. “oh…uh, am i allowed to help look for it? or, is, is it, can i get a hint?” he stutters and takes a step toward you. “ah!” the exclamation catches him off guard, but you smile at him with your hand still in the bag. “found it.” “oh. oh, that’s good—” “ta-da!” when you finally take your hand out, there’s nothing in it. but tobio’s still surprised at your index finger and thumb shooting a heart in his direction. the heart accompanied by your amused grin get his face to heat up, and his eyes can’t stop darting from your face to your hand. he clears his throat. “i—” he doesn’t know if he should tell you to shut up or walk away. “th...thanks.” “thanks?” “shut up.”

BOKUTO lets out a yelp when he hits his head against the desk, trying to get up after grabbing a dropped pen. you call out from the room over, “ko? you okay?” he stands up properly with a groan, and rubs the top of his head. “yeah, i just hit my head.” there’s a pout on his face when you walk in to check on him and you do your best not to comment on how cute he looks. “lemme see.” you reach your arms out, gesturing for him to come closer. kotaro reaches you, and you tilt his head down. “what’re you doing, baby?” he asks. instead of answering, you kiss the spot he was rubbing, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away and running a hand through his hair when he looks at you. “does it feel a little better now?” blush is suddenly dusting his cheeks. “yeah, thank you.” but then he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and he shyly asks, “can i have another one?”

AKAASHI has a bad habit of falling asleep with his glasses on. the amount of times he’s woken up to indents from them pushed into his skin is too many to for him to count. you quietly walk in to check on him and almost coo at the sight of your boyfriend curled up in bed, book in his hand. doing your best not to wake him up, you make your way over and kneel in front of him. gently, you take his glasses off, and pull the blanket up to cover him properly. keiji wakes to the feeling of you tucking him in, and does his best to stay still as you press a kiss to his forehead. “have a good nap, keiji. love you,” you whisper sweetly. he listens to you padding out of the room and waits patiently to hear the door click behind you. as soon as the coast is clear, he shoves his face into the cold side of the pillow to try calming down.

OIKAWA’s used to fans offering him gifts from chocolates to one-of-a-kind sweaters. he thought he was immune to surprises, until he spots you walking toward him with your hands behind your back and a grin on your face. “hm? what’s this?” he asks when you stop a few steps in front of him. “guess.” “...guess? is it…my phone charger you stole a few days ago? maybe a very expensive dinner?” “first of all, i put it back. second of all, why would i bring dinner here?” he pouts. “because you love me?” “tooru—i’d say no i don’t but i guess i have to agree today.” you jokingly sigh before pulling out a bouquet of flowers from behind you. “surprise!” tooru blinks, then gapes, maybe for once being lost for words at a present. “i picked each kind myself, and there’s a little card where i wrote down their meanings,” you explain with a smile. his chest tightens—in a good way—and when he looks at you his gaze is softer than usual. tooru sighs before clasping his hands over yours. he hopes you don’t notice the way they tremble a little when he teases, “if i didn’t know better, i’d think you have a crush on me.”

IWAIZUMI doesn’t know how attractive he is sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, really. you wake up to the sound of his morning voice saying “good morning, baby,” and the sight of him in bed beside you. “haji.” hajime groans as he stretches, only furthering your point in your mind. “yeah?” “you look really handsome right now, y’know.” he freezes mid-stretch and whips his head to look at you. “what?” “you look really handsome,” you repeat yourself in a murmur, preoccupied with staring at your boyfriend. with his stretch over, he reaches to pull the blanket over your head. “hey—” “don’t just say that to me.” “but i’m right. you’re handsome and pretty, you’re like a prince, li—” “stop,” hajime groans and brings the blanket to cover his own face—not out of annoyance, but because if you saw how red he got over a few compliments he thinks he might explode.

OSAMU loves cooking for you, no matter how many days a week he does it. but you know he’s had an especially busy, rough day today, and tell him to sit down so you can get dinner yourself. he grins and sits up properly at the sight of you walking toward him. “thank you, babe, seriously. you’re an angel,” he groans. “pretty sure that would make you a deity or something if one meal is all it takes to be an angel.” you snort. he shifts so you can sit beside him, and reaches for the plate. “wait, wait, wait.” you stop him and move his hand away. osamu raises a brow and stares while you grab a spoonful of the meal. “what are you doin’?” all you do is smile and raise the spoon to his mouth, other hand in position to catch any food that falls. “open up.” “babe, y’don’t have to fe—” “‘samu, open up,” you sing-song to cut him off. osamu softy laughs, incredulous, but surrenders and opens his mouth. he can’t tell if it’s because the food is hot, or because you get another spoonful ready to feed him, but osamu feels an urge to cover his face. “ready for the next one?”

ARAN comes out of the shower to see you curled up in bed and smiles. “i’m done, you can go in whenever you want,” he says as he reaches for his shirt. you hum and push the blanket off. aran’s usually the one flustering you, especially at times like this when he’s shirtless and if you wanted, you could watch him getting ready. but this time it’s your turn as his eyes trail down and linger to the bottom of your shirt when you stretch—where it lifts enough that your stomach peeks out. you groan and don’t move to fix it while you continue to lie in bed, eyes closed for a few more seconds. he's always teased you about staring while he stretched, and being on the other side of things he suddenly really, really understands what you mean when you say something about it is attractive. aran is still staring at your arms above your head by the time you look back at him. “aran?” “what?” he asks a little too quickly. you raise a brow and he scratches the back of his ear before looking away. “nothing. it's nothing.”

SAKUSA’s hair is getting too long, he notes to himself as it decides to fall in front of his eyes again. he huffs in annoyance, but makes no indication that he wants to bother pushing it back. you watch him from the corner of your eye. “your hair’s getting long again, huh?” “yeah, i’ll need to cut it soon.” you hum and stare at the strands slightly covering his view. “not gonna move it out of the way?” kiyoomi sighs and closes his eyes. “later.” his eyes shoot open again when he suddenly feels a hand that isn’t his reach for his hair instead. he watches as you carefully brush it back, messing with it so it’d stay out of his eyes. “you have a hair tie? or a bobby pin?” you ask, holding his hair in place and mindlessly rubbing a thumb against his cheek. kiyoomi stares at you and doesn’t respond, focused on the warmth of your palm against his scalp. “‘omi?” “huh? oh, in my bag. thanks.” he pretends he doesn’t hope you don’t find anything so he can stay in this position a little longer.

🏷️ @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @leexshin @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @@spooky1magazine1bread @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @tooruchiiscribs @curiouslilbeast

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #osamu x reader #aran x reader #sakusa x reader #kageyama tobio #bokuto kotaro #akaashi keiji #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #miya osamu #aran ojiro #sakusa kiyoomi #x reader

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gemstone-roses · 1 year ago

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I've got you

Geralt x Reader

Summary: geralt comforts you in the middle of the night.

Warnings: general anxiety themes, anxiety attack, fear, bit of sad, crying. Fluff. Bit of Size kink if you squint (whoops) can't help myself can I.

Huge hurt/comfort vibes, I need it okay.

Note: I'm having a bad week okay,🫠 reblogs and comments much appreciated ❤️ reminder this blog is 18 plus and so are all my works, including the sfw ones.

Hope this helps someone if they need it 🖤

Flames dance in front of you. The heat from the fire the three of you had made at your camp that night had stopped feeling warm a while ago.

Jaskier slept soundly in his sleeping bag by a tree, the dense forest you found yourselves in provided more than enough safety for you to rest for the night.

And of course, geralt too.

He sits opposite you, legs spread wide, hands falling in-between them. He's keeping watch for any danger.

You wrap your arms around yourself. Habit, when you feel like this.

You'd felt it coming when you woke this morning. It starts in your throat, your chest.

Jaskier struggled to get on his horse this morning.

Usually you'd make a sarcastic comment at his expense, earning an eye roll from him and a small chuckle from geralt.

Today you stayed quiet. You knew irritation would lace your words without actually meaning it.

Leaves rustle beside you as the witcher moves from his spot and sits back down on the log you were sitting on.

Geralts thighs touched yours, he was so big it couldn't be helped.

The slight touch comforted you though.

"I can hear your heart racing over the noise of the fire"

Of course he could.

"oh, sorry?" You say softly.

You feel your chest tighten, you try to swallow but your mouth is dry.

Geralts brows furrow, he's heard your sharp intake of breath, your heart picking up.

"fuck" he whispers, getting up.

You startle slightly when you feel two hands on your thigh, geralt kneeling in front of you. His Amber eyes laced with concern for you.

"Y/n" he says gently, giving your thigh a squeeze.

"Look at me sweetheart" he continues. He gently grasps your chin and turns it towards him.

Tears pool in your eyes as his gaze feels like it's seeing right through you.

"You need to breathe, okay?breathe with me y/n" he reaches for your hand, places it on his chest.

Your hand trembles, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on him. One of his hands holding yours on his chest, the other is still holding your face.

"Keep looking at me, good, it's okay, that's it , your safe, ive got you". He soothes, caressing your cheek as he speaks.

The tears pooled in your eyes spill free

"Geralt" you choke out

"I know" he swipes your tears away, his calloused hands still gentle.

"Just keep breathing with me, hm?" He keeps stroking your face, until he feels your racing heart calm slightly.

You stay like that for what feels like hours. His touch not leaving you. Your still trembling slightly.

"Im s-

"Don't" he pushes up from the floor , wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to place a kiss to your head.

"Come" he says offering his hand

You take it, standing up

"Let me hold you tonight, hm?" He brings your hand up to his lips and places a feather light kiss to it.

You nod, and geralt wraps his huge arm around you as he guides you to his sleep bag.

"I've got you" he whispers, pulling you tighter into his embrace.

#geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #henry cavill x reader #geralt of river x reader #the witcher fandom #the witcher imagine #henry cavill imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #henry cavill fanfiction

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

Note

dude imagine Miguel overhearing you talk to your friends about all the things you’d let him do to you in the most vile ways possible. like you’re just talking with your homies about how you’d have to get pried off of his dick if he let you smash or that you can’t hear him talk over how loud his ass looks in his jeans or whatever I dunno I think it’s amusing lmao

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH i just had to write a lil smth anon<33

summary : you talk about how you're down bad for miguel to your friends, and he hears it content warnings : mentions of SMUT (18+) minors dni, just reader being down bad for Miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 660 tag list : @fandom-ash

“Honestly, I’d suck him like a watermelon through a straw”

You were gathered in the cafeteria, not many people left, and Miguel was seated at a table not far from where you and your friends were seated. Whatever he was thinking about was soon replaced by listening to your conversation as soon as this sentence was uttered by you.

"Your mouth couldn't handle the size of him," sneered one of your friends to the others. "You'd dislocate your jaw."

"Some sacrifices are worth making," you sighed thoughtfully, your chin resting on your hand. You let out an almost childish whimper, "what I'd give to just impale myself on him!"

"Lord, you'd never let him leave your body, would you?" laughed another friend.

"Never!" you confirmed as you straightened up, "Miguel is so perfect... did you ever see how he walked? How his ass is round and perfect and to die for?!" your voice almost broke as your hands mimed grabbing something and kneading.

Miguel's ears began to heat up and he placed his hand over his mouth as he tried to keep his composure.

"What about his back? Oh..." you say, letting your head fall back, "I'd leave such beautiful nail marks on it."

"Wow, your marks?" laughed one as she reached for her drink.

"Pantone #996767, google it," you sigh.

"I think it's foam I'm seeing at the corners of your lips, you rabid slut," sneered one of them.

"But imagine, his pecs, touching them, laying my head on them, feeling them against my back as he pulls my hair..."

See when cartoon characters have hearts in their eyes? It was pretty close to what you looked like. And surprisingly, Miguel was starting to feel cramped in his pants.

"You're down bad," breathed one of your friends.

"I'd let him break me, I'll be his toy, he can do whatever he sees fit with me and I'll say thank you."

"Even bite you?" inquired another, well aware of the immobilizing properties of his venom.

"Especially bite me." you asserted with a burst of voice that was half laugh and half sigh.

"Would you have the courage to say all that to his face?"

"No way, he'd look at me like an alien."

"You're pretty close to looking like one at that," laughed one of the girls.

You continued to laugh, then when your meal was finished, you left the cafeteria. A few hours later in the afternoon, Miguel called you to his office. You were probably expecting him to send you to a dimension to catch an anomaly, or try to bring in a new Spider-Man.

But instead, as you walked up to him at a respectable distance for a boss and his employee, he asked you a simple question:

"Did you mean it?"

The question confused you.

"What?"

He turned to you, stepping forward a little more, one step at a time. His gaze seemed almost amused, but your habit of polite distance made you step back.

"Everything you said about me to your friends earlier in the cafeteria," your back halted against a wall as he approached again, coming very close to you, "did you mean it?"

Your heart began to pound in your chest as your cheeks heated up.

"Well?" he asked, towering over you as he put his hand next to your head against the wall, coming closer until only a few inches separated you. "I'd be very disappointed if all this were just words thrown into the air."

You swallow, your eyes falling ineluctably on his lips as you moisten yours, your gaze returning to his.

"Yes, I meant it."

His lip stretches to the side, his smile revealing his pointed fang.

"Lyla, status of the doors." he asked, his free hand coming down along your waist.

"Locked." she replied.

His hand slid up to grip your buttock, leaning in until his lips whispered against your ear:

"I hope you keep your word."

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tannieastrology · 9 months ago

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Solar Return Observations💋❤️🌹

💋This year I have a Virgo Ascendant in my solar return along with 2 Venus returns and Ive been so much more health/beauty focused. Like I care more about myself and am trying to break bad habits that I made in 2023. Im also alot more driven in sports/goals and back when I had this in 2020 I was also into skincare and makeup alot too and was into running and working out. I feel like the year you get a virgo ascendant for your solar return is the year to cleanse bad habits that youve made in the previous year its like a chance to start new.

💋The year you have Uranus in the 11th house is most likely a year where you will lose friends but will also get the chance to make new ones. I had Uranus and North Node in my 11th house last year and my 3 year long friend who claimed we were “besties” backstabbed me and cut me off with no explanation BUT I also found a friendgroup who are here to stay and am incredibely blessed to have met them. This was a year where my view on society and people changed significantly but i feel it was for the better.

💋Last year I had Sun and Pluto in the 8th house along with Moon and Mars in the 12th. I struggled really bad with my mental health(also a Gemini Rising) and my whole personality shifted from these experiences. From January my grandma almost died of cancer, I faced unrequited love, bullying from “friends”, losing friends, and overall felt pressure from school. I was just sensitive to what people said about me and let little things bother me and now that Im looking back none of it was a big deal but I dont know in the moment it affected me way too much. It made me realize that you cant ever really put your faith in people and that you need to trust and respect yourself the most. That you cant be attached to people and your faith should be put in god (atleast thats what I think). Most of the pain came from lowself esteem and I do believe that these placements made me grow a thicker skin and to become more independant. Im a completely different person now and while I did lose my innocence to the world I feel that I can survive on my own now. I guess I just grew a backbone which im really thankful for.

💋Everything that happened last year (like growth transformation death) is all related to the 8th house which is where gemini is in my natal so also keep that in mind where your solar ascendant falls in your natal.

💋This year I have a Moon in Libra in the 1st house and a Virgo Lilith exactly conjunct my ascendant and Ive been getting so much praise from woman its weird? Weirdly guys have been liking my instagram stories and when I posted on my birthday so many people came and viewed my story who dont even follow me. I also feel more pretty and empowered this year and Ive been trying to figure out how I want to present myself more. Compared to last year I feel like I am more upfront with my feelings. I feel like this year I might not struggle as much since im a Libra Ascendant and my solar return is Virgo and almost aligns with my natal chart.

💋My sadness and pain from my 2023 solar return actually really did last until my birthday aka my 2024 return😭 So keep in note that solar returns will remain effective until your next birthday.

💋I have Pluto, Mars, Sun, Vertex, Mercury, and POF, all in the 5th house this year and Im really hoping I can finally meet someone to date for the first time but so far its manifested as being more interested in hobbies/ having fun. Im not complaining tho I actually have been so much happier and I havent cried that much at all from this new Solar Return. I will say I feel like having Pluto in the 5th house will make your view change a bit on relationships. I lost feelings for my 3 year crush and I also feel like its impossible for me to properly catch feelings now. I dont know its like I broke the cycle of infatuting crushes and am way more realistic when it comes to love. Part of it is probably just me getting older but I think thats a good thing. I dont expect love like the movies anymore but i just want something REAL.

💋The year you have 8th house Venus a old flame might come back into your life.

💋Tell me why I have Jupiter, North Node, and Chiron in the 8th house this year and ive been attracting money/all the things i want so easily? I got almost $450 for my birthday, a vanity, a lulu bag, and a big party and its only been like 2 weeks😭

💋 When I turn 18 in 2026 I have a stellium of Venus, Mercury, Sun, Mars, and Pluto in the 12th SOOO im predicting that I might be struggling with mental health that year, probably lost in where I want to head after high school, or Im either hiding sum secret love affair(8th house ruler of libra in 12) or like something about it is forbidden/ secretive. I also do have Moon and Jupiter in Cancer in the 5th house that year so that should be interesting lol. Let me know what aspects/ placements in your future solar returns yall find interesting and have down in the comments I wanna see.

💋A Saggitarius Ascendant/ 9th placements might mean that you get opportunity to travel

💋Having Lilith in the 2nd house might mean that you struggle with eating consistently or might struggle with self worth and body image.

💋Venus in the 4th house will be a year where you try to improve your home and find comfort in familial relationships

💋Look at transits to your solar return too theyll give you a deeper dive in whats going on you can look on astroseek.

💋12th house placements will make you inclined to find god

💋On November 16 2021 I caught feelings bad for this guy and I would go on to like him for a long time. Near that time I had a Venus Return and also a transit Solar Return with a 7th house stellium(Sun,Mars,Mercury,Moon in Libra/Scorpio). I was around this guy 24/7 and it just unexpectedly happened. Near that time Iwas having so much fun with my friends in cross country I feel so fond about those days that I could never forget.

💋 Last year having a Gemini Rising but placements like Mars and Moon in the 12th made me get talked about unknowingly behind my back so keep that in mind. Girls secretly hated me and also one of my “friends” twisted my words and spread drama about me.

💋Pay special attention to Chiron and where it is in your chart ESPECIALLY if its in retrograde

Anyways I hope yall enjoyed this was very last minute and I know people have been complaining about there not being enough Solar Return observations so here I am lol. See yall next time💋

#astrology #astrology observations #solar return #my observations

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wlntrsldler · 8 months ago

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Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

#frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

OK the fall prompt "rainy walks" got me thinking like... what if reader got upset about something and went for a walk and got caught in the rain, and ended up running into Steve who is just out walking and loving the fall gloomy vibe

ty for requesting! — steve runs into his ex while trying to escape a bunch of freaks and finds out you're running from something of your own (exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, tw mentions of toxic relationships, 1.9k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve doesn’t usually smoke. He dropped that habit when he graduated high school and realized he only needed a cigarette when his group of asshole friends were around. He smoked because it felt cool mostly, but also because it felt good to be distracted from his lingering feelings of non-belonging.

Now he’s got people around him who make him feel like he belongs.

It’s too bad they’re all a bunch of freaks.

After being cooped up in the Munson trailer all day, he thinks he’s developed something short of cabin fever. Desperate to get away, he swiped one of Eddie’s cigs and a forgotten zippo before heading out to smoke on the back porch.

He exhales grey smoke from his pink lips. It leaves in invisible wisps beneath heavy storm clouds. He thinks he hears a voice over the muffled sound of Dustin Henderson’s yelling. “Fucking asshole— who do you think you are?” the voice speaks, familiar in a way that makes his stomach ache. “Like, fuck you, dude. You don’t get to talk to me like that. No fucking way.”

He peeks around the corner, and there he finds you — an old ex from a lifetime ago that he hasn’t quite gotten over yet. His chest starts to tighten. He can’t tell if he’s happy to see you or utterly horrified.

You’re still dressed in your pajamas despite it being early afternoon — if an oversized t-shirt that certainly doesn’t belong to you can be counted as pajamas, anyway. It’s a white and red Metallica tee that falls to your knees, slightly frayed at the hem.

It probably belonged to Billy before it belonged to you. If Steve had to guess, you probably stole it like you did all his shirts. He still isn’t sure what came of his favorite Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt.

You come down the road from the Hargrove-Mayfield trailer, looking like you left in a rush. You’re barely dressed and shivering in the cold, walking fast like you’re angry and desperate to get away.

You and Steve broke up a long time ago, but his heart still swells with the familiar urge to protect you.

“Are you okay?” Steve calls to you as he rounds the corner of the Munson trailer.

The crunchinggravel beneath your feet goes quiet when you still. Your head whips toward the sound of the familiar voice, eyes widening when you find Steve there. Your heart starts to race — not because you’ve just run into your ex, but because you’ve run into your ex who you kinda sorta ditched several months ago.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay,” he repeats with a quiet, lopsided grin. He flicks the end of his cigarette with his thumb and tries to meet your gaze. “Sounded like you were giving someone a hell of a talking to.”

Your face flares with embarrassment. You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest — partly to shield from the crisp cold but mostly to comfort yourself. “Yeah. I’m just— I was just talking to myself,” you stammer, flashing a wavering smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’m good.”

Steve nods, then squints like he doesn’t believe you. “Okay… Are you sure?”

A laugh tumbles from your mouth. It’s cynical and bitter and utterly forced.

“Yes, Steve. I’m fine,” you assure with a bite to your tone, colder than the grey autumn around you. You smile through it anyway, like you’re trying to convince yourself just as much as him. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. You’re not my boyfriend.”

Steve knows this. He hasn’t been your boyfriend for a while, but something about the way you say it makes his chest ache. He isn’t sure why.

“No, I know,” he nods quickly, shrugging with his brows pinched. “But I’m never gonna, like, not worry about you, you know?”

The empty feeling in your chest starts to warm. Your nails dig crescent shapes into your arms.

“Why?” you murmur.

“I don’t know. Because you were really important to me, I guess— you are really important to me. And that doesn’t just, like… go away,” Steve rambles, shier than you’ve ever seen him. He swipes an anxious hand through his cinnamon locks. The rouge strands hanging over his forehead fall back into place a second later.

Even though your boyfriend forced you not to talk to any of your friends, he wants to say. Even though you’re not mine anymore.

It’s been so long since someone’s been this soft with you. You’re not used to it anymore. You’d much rather him be mean because at least then you’d have a place to put all your anger.

“That’s… That’s nice,” you mutter under your breath like an idiot because you don’t know what else to say.

Steve takes one last puff of his cigarette, if only to distract himself from the awkward silence. He takes a deep breath in and tosses the stick to the gravel, exhaling the smoke as he snuffs out the ash with his sneaker.

“Where were you, uh— Where were you headed?”

“Nowhere. I was just… on my way back home.”

His brows furrow. He doesn’t bother to hide his concern. “Do you have a car?”

“Nope,” you answer with a sigh. “Still don’t have my license, so…”

“Still?”

You nod, scrunching your nose all sheepish. “I know…”

“We used to practice all the time!”

Steve’s golden laugh makes you smile despite yourself. “Honestly, I’m still a little scarred from when I almost hit that deer.”

He nods at the memory, quietly nostalgic and warm with it.

That was on the way to Deep Green Cove, where the two of you were headed to meet his parents at their over-the-top lake house. He let you drive because he knew you’d been wanting to and thought the vacant countryside road would be easiest for you to practice on.

It hadn’t been.

And you did it all for nothing because his parents didn’t even show.

It was a good weekend, though. He can’t believe he forgot about it until now.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I guess,” Steve shrugs with his head tilted to his shoulder. “It took me three days to get you in the car again.”

“I’m pretty sure I cried, like, all night after that.”

“Yeah, my t-shirt still has tear stains on it, actually,” he teases with a boyish chuckle.

Your own giggle sputters from your mouth. You hide it with your palm — like you feel guilty about it. It feels good to laugh, though. To remember that you used to cry over stupid stuff like that and not shit that actually breaks your heart.

A fat raindrop plops cold on your shoulder. You wince. “Oh, fuck— I gotta go.”

“Let me take you,” Steve offers without thinking twice.

You stumble back when he steps towards you, shaking your head to dismiss him. “No. It’s okay.”

“C’mon. Just let me drive you home—”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not letting you walk in the rain.”

“It’ll be okay—”

“You’ll freeze.”

You scoff a bitter laugh. “It’ll be better than what Billy does to me if he finds out I was alone with Steve The Hair Harrington.”

You say it like it’s a joke, and it isn’t, really, but Steve isn’t laughing anyway. His chiseled features twist in concern, like your words have somehow pained him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you answer, perhaps too quickly, laughing as you shake your head. “It was just— It was a stupid joke. I’m just being dramatic.”

“Are you saying he’ll hit you?” he wonders in a quiet murmur, far too somber than you’d like.

“No— what? No!” you stammer quickly, face as screwed up as his scruffy one. You start to ramble before you realize it. “Billy isn’t like that, okay? He’s just— He’s a fucking baby, and he’s dramatic, and I’d love to go one day without being fucking gaslit. That’s all. I’d rather just freeze on my ten-minute walk back home than have him berate me about hanging out with my ex.”

A few more raindrops fall. Spots of ashy gravel turn to a darker shade of grey.

Steve grows quiet, letting the gentle cadence of water on tin roofs fill the silence. His chest aches all over again. He can’t decide if he’s sad for you or angry at Billy or grieving that he ever let you go in the first place. Maybe a mix of all three.

His hands tremble with the intensity of the swirling emotions, but it’s still in his nature to be soft with you.

“Do you wanna come inside?” he wonders, nodding back towards the trailer.

“To Eddie’s?”

“Yeah.”

“…No,” you answer with the shake of your head, face twisted like the offer offends you. It does, but only because you’re almost sure Eddie hates you now. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. If your best friend chose some asshole over you, you’d hate them too.

“No?”

“I haven’t talked to him in forever— I haven’t talked to any of you in forever.”

“It’s okay,” Steve nods, so gentle it makes you writhe.

“No, it’s not, Steve. I ditched all of you. I was awful to you.”

You don’t want his gentleness. You want him to hate you. You don’t deserve his warmth or the one inside Eddie’s trailer, practically aglow with the laughter of all the friends you left behind. You deserve the isolation. You deserve to stand in the rain and freeze.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, a newfound insistence in his tone like he wants you to really hear him. His bushy brows raise and his honey eyes sparkle, golden even in the grey. “We know why. We know it’s not your fault.”

You falter, swallowing through a closing throat. “You do?”

“Yeah. And we don’t— we don’t blame you for it, okay? For any of it. We miss you, actually.”

The crooked pink grin he flashes should comfort you, but it only makes you shrink inside yourself. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur, disbelieving and dripping with self-loathe.

“Ask Robin if you don’t believe me,” Steve tells you, smiling wider now. “Actually, she was just talking about how making fun of me isn’t as fun without you.”

You don’t want to believe him, but you glow with the faint hope that he’s telling the truth, anyway.

“Really?”

“Really,” the boy nods, then grimaces when the light rain grows suddenly heavier. His brows scrunch as he holds out an arm towards you. “Screw your boyfriend, okay? Just come inside. We can take care of everything else after.”

You want so desperately to take the hand he holds out for you. Your fingers twitch at your side with the longing to hold him, but you don’t let yourself — even though it goes against all your human instincts not to.

You’re made slightly braver than he had said we. “We can take care of that later,” he’d promised, a subtle assurance that you aren’t as alone in all this as you feel. But you often feel like you’re a black hole at times — you don’t want to suck anyone else into the mess you’re in.

“I don’t know…” you waver, teeth threatening to chatter when a breeze makes the rain colder.

“C’mon, before both of us get soaked—” Steve laughs when it starts to rain harder. All the clouds begin to pour at once. You rush to him before you can think twice about it. His palm is warm at the small of your back when he ushers you towards the trailer.

Beneath the high-pitched squeaking of the screen door, you hear Steve mumble behind you. “Dustin’s gonna fucking flip when he sees you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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heartschampion · 2 months ago

Text

september 30th — ethan landry

PAIRING. ethan landry x fem!reader

SUMMARY. in which you make a bet with your boyfriend, ethan, the night before the start of october. thirty-one days of sex.

CONTENT. no ghostface!au, ethan bailey is canon!!, established relationship, fluff, bantering, a little suggestive, no smut, basically a prologue chapter, no beta, not proofread.

WORD COUNT. 1.9k

previous. masterlist. next.

11:49 PM.

It’s times like this where I find myself thinking — really thinking — deeper into life and its meaning. The closer I look, the more I start to realize how glorified life is. I follow the same routine day-in and day-out. Wake up, get ready, go to class, go home, and get ready for the same thing tomorrow. It’s like the only time I get to have a reprise is in moments late into the night, all snuggled up and ready to sleep. A sliver of freedom in a meticulously bland and boring way of life.

Not to be melodramatic or anything. Ethan often told me I have a knack for that.

The blinding light of my laptop screen hits my retinas with a harsh glare despite having set the brightness to its dimmest setting. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, so I tough it out. I scroll aimlessly through my Tumblr dashboard, skimming past posts until one catches my attention just enough for me to stop and actually read.

‘Mattheo Riddle x Reader, Niccolo Govender x Reader, Jack Ch—’

“Ugh,” a small groan sounds from beside me on the bed. With a quirk of a smile, I glance beside me at my boyfriend, Ethan Bailey, who is laid there in all his glory. He has his arm draped over his eyes, covering them from the light emitting from my laptop. For a split second, I feel bad for disturbing his sleep. Ethan lets out another groan before throwing his arm off to the side, his eyes flickering over to my figure. “Angel, can we please go to bed?”

I sigh as I hear the pleading tone of his voice and shoot him an apologetic look.

“Just a few more minutes, Eth. Promise.”

Ethan simply gives me a blank stare, not believing my words for a second. He rolls over onto his side, now fully facing me with a sulky little pout on his lips. As cute as he is, I can’t fall for his tricks and forget about the task I had assigned myself. Ethan raises his head from the pillow, craning his neck to peek at my screen. Curious, he asks, “What are you doing anyways?”

A soft smile crosses my face at his question, both amused by the innocence behind it and touched by his curiosity. I reach over to pet his messed up curls, a habit that I had developed ever since the two of us moved in together for the new semester. Immediately, Ethan melts into my touch, visibly relaxing at the contact shared between the two of us.

“Just waiting for all the October context to start being posted.”

“Why October specifically?” He asks while furrowing his brows in confusion, completely and blissfully unaware of what I was talking about at all. It was kind of cute that he didn’t know, especially considering Richie of all people ran an active and thriving blog. It was literally the worst kept secret ever. Even Quinn knew. “Something special happening?”

“Mmm, something like that…” I giggle, causing Ethan to raise his furrowed brow at me in question. Unable to keep a straight face at the overly serious expression that he’s giving me, I burst out in laughter, deciding to finally enlighten him to the world of Kinktober. After a few moments, I calm myself down, taking a few deep breaths, letting out some final snickers. On the flip side, Ethan just stares at me blankly, unamused. With a roll of my eyes, I softly scratch at his scalp, confessing the ‘dirty secret’ I had been keeping for so long. “It’s Kinktober. Y’know, when writers just shit out a bunch of written porn?”

“Kink…tober?” Ethan repeats back, his expression contorting into one of confusion. He repeats the word a few more times, looking deep in contemplation while processing the information I had just dumped on him. Without even trying to hide it, I coo at him like an owner would at their pet. Blinking, he deadpans, “So you’re up at midnight just to read porn?”

“Smut.”

“Right. Smut.” He corrects himself, but not without a dramatic show of rolling his eyes in faux annoyance. It’s now my turn to roll my eyes, removing my hand from his hair and flicking his forehead in retaliation. Immediately, Ethan swats my hand away from anywhere near his face and rubs his forehead, grumbling to himself as he gives me a proper stinkeye. In return, I simply give him a cheeky smile and stick out my tongue, albeit a bit childishly.

It doesn’t take much long though until he forgets about the whole ordeal and goes back to the topic at hand. He clicks his tongue, eyes brightening with an idea that I know could be no good and smirks at me. With a lazy drawl, he asks smugly, “Why read about sex when you have me?”

Not expecting that of all things to come out of his mouth, I’m taken by surprise. A snort escapes my lips at the suggestive implication in his words. Placing my laptop beside me, I prop myself up on my elbow and lean down to Ethan, squinting at him. “What’re you trying to say, Bailey?”

Like a predator stalking his prey, he gazes up at me, a tinge of seduction behind those innocent looking brown eyes. He eyes me with temptation, luring me in before he can swallow me whole. His larger hand stalks around my hip, caressing at my skin as he travels across its smooth surface. Suddenly, I’m pulled in, now on top of him and straddling his hips where I can feel him start to harden.

“There’s no way some dumb words could ever be better than…me.”

He’s right and we both know it, but a bigger part of me wants to challenge him on that. Maybe it’s his cockiness in his tone, or the fact that his growing boner is directly pressing against my clothed core as he grinds his hips. Either way, I raise my eyebrow, looking down at him from above. “Really, huh? Big words coming from someone who came within the first three minutes last time.”

At the reminder of the last time we had sex, his eyes widened and his face flushed in embarrassment. “That was an accident!” He vehemently exclaims, defending himself for his early ejaculation.

If I were to be completely honest, I was kind of turned on from how easily he came from just being inside of me, not even fully engulfed. The idea was lewder than the circumstances surrounding it, but the prospect of him almost coming inside of me — Even though we were protected — was as enticing as it was terrifying.

“Besides, you know how good I can make you feel.” Ethan then attempts to wink, his eyelids not cooperating, leading to him blinking instead. Realizing that he messed up his attempt to be smooth, he shakes his head and instead smiles sheepishly.

I giggle at his silliness, brushing aside the curls near his eyes with a level of fondness I once never would have known to exist. He really was perfect for me. Pinching his cheeks, I keep poking at him and his cocky attitude. “You think you can keep up?”

“Babe, I know I can.” He states as confident as ever, a smirk playing on his face. Without another word, he starts to run his hands up my thighs, my skin prickling up at his electric touch. Reaching my hips, he starts to rub circles around my hip dips, fondling my inner thighs. I let out a deep sigh, both relaxing at his intimate touch, and tensing as his boner pokes into me. Unable to help myself, I grind my pulsating core against him, satisfying the need.

“So cute...”

I whine at his words, embarrassed at just how badly I needed him at this moment. He was the one who started it in the first place, yet I was the one here left to look like a mess instead of him. It was unfair. Continuing to grind against him, he suddenly stops his movements. I hiss out, “Eth, you annoying fuck…”

Out of nowhere, he flips the two of us around, the lower half of his body pressed against me as he looks down on me. I’m caged in his arms, each one placed beside me, trapping me as his prisoner. Ethan cocks his head to the side, an innocent look on his face. He speaks in a sickeningly sweet voice, “What’s the matter, angel?”

“You know what’s wrong.”

“Do I?” He asks, pretending to think about it.

“Eth!” I hiss, squirming underneath him. He’s so close, the only thing separating us being the clothes we have on. Never have I ever wanted to not have any on more than I do right now. I needed to feel him, all of him. Not just his warmth, but skin against skin to truly prove that he was right there with me.

Ethan lets out a chuckle, grinning at how needy I was being. I bet he really got off on that, huh? Knowing that he was in control, having me wrapped around his finger. Fuck, I needed him in me whether it was his fingers or his dick. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at me like he was reprimanding me. “Thirty-one days, angel. You can wait a few hours.”

Just like that, Ethan shifts off of me and back to his side of the bed with a satisfied smile on his face. The sudden switch from before to now was jarring and it took me a few moments before I completely processed what just happened. I scoff, propping myself up on my elbows and looking over at him.

“Are you serious?” “Super.” The pain in the ass called my boyfriend responds, closing his eyes, ready to fall asleep.

“You’re literally cockblocking yourself!” I sputter out in disbelief. Ethan Bailey, the boy who couldn’t keep his hands off of me. The same boy who literally cried the first time we had sex — I did too. The same boy who was now laying in our bed with a rock-hard boner, yet doing nothing about it when he had the more than eager opportunity to. What a fucking idiot.

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking over his words carefully. “I can handle it.”

I let out an overdramatic huff as I collapsed onto the bed. Looking over, I peer at Ethan’s ‘sleeping’ face. A few moments passed of me just staring at him with a blank expression before he opened one eye and looked at me with a questioning expression. “Can’t sleep, love?”

“Don’t even.” I warned, glaring at him and his feigned nonchalance.

He chuckles, and I can feel him shift in the bed. Soon, arms wrap around me and pull me into a tight embrace. My face is gently placed against Ethan’s nape where I often laid on nights like this. Without a word, I wrap my arms and legs around him like a koala with a tree, seeking any contact with him. I bury my face into his nape, taking in his cinnamon scent.

“Sorry.” Despite his words, Ethan lets out another chuckle, the vibrations of it throughout his body a soothing feeling against my tense body.

I grumble, “You’re not sorry.”

He huffs in amusement at my sulkiness, petting my hair. Pecks and kisses litter my face in a frenzy as a way of him trying to make me feel better. To his credit, it does work despite my attempts to not let it. How could I ever resist his kisses? Peering down at me, Ethan smiles softly before kissing my lips. Cinnamon chapstick and lemonade citrus.

“Happy…uh…Kinktober, angel.”

#( hearts fics ★ )#( we fell in love in october )#scream #scream vi #scream 6 #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #kinktober

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