#which makes it worse because every time I have to be reminded that my well-being is controlled by random chemicals

[aggressive-almond-cookie]

Move It Move It Station is making me cry.

[requiemforthepoets]

he drives me crazy, it’s so beyond me 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

SUMMARY: you’ve been hating on lando for a very long time now, since you were kids to be exact. only to realize that those hatred is only a mask for what you truly feel for him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’ve been on a slump lately, have so many works unfinished but i don’t really have the drive to finish them lol but my break from uni is near, so maybe i’ll get the motivation to finish all of it. for the meantime, hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: typos, cursing, and playboy lando

Growing up being Max’s younger sister meant that you were always surrounded by his friends, and none of them irritated you more than Lando Norris. From the very beginning, something about Lando rubbed you off the wrong way. Though you had never understood why, there was something—an inexplicable annoyance that only grew stronger with time.

As kids, you tolerated him, well mainly because Max adored him and that they are racing karts together. You can’t just tell Max to stay away from Lando for no apparent reason, that would make look like an absolute ass. But as you all grew up, Lando’s behavior began to infuriate you even more, and it just got worse when he got to F1. He began dating girls and moving on as quickly as the seasons changed, never seeming to care about the trail of broken hearts he left behind. It wasn’t just his carefree attitude towards relationships or life in general; it was the way he would tease you every fucking chance he gets. If you tripped over a pebble or on air, he’d make a joke about it. Making fun of every little thing that he would notice about you. You just couldn’t stand it, and you couldn’t stand him and his whole existence.

But somewhere along the line, something strange started to happen. With all the teasing and eye rolls, you found yourself paying a little too much attention to him. Too much for your liking. It was almost as if you were noticing the first time how his aquamarine eyes sparkled everytime he laughed, or how his curly hair seemed to suit him perfectly. It made you mad—so fucking mad that you wanted to scream. How could you, of all people, start to like Lando Norris? Your public enemy number one.

Then the realization hit you like a shit ton of bricks. You were developing a massive crush on the one person you were supposed to hate. Surprised by the sudden realization, and you being you, instead of acknowledging it, you decided to bury it deep down, covering it with even more layers of loathing. If he said something stupid, which he always does, you’d snap back at him twice as hard. If he smiled that cocky grin, you’d glare daggers at him. But inside, your heart would be pounding, and it drove you crazy. It’s pretty much a fucking miracle that you have been able to stay sane.

One day, after a particularly annoying comment from Lando about your choice of outfit, you finally snapped. “You know, Lando, if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it. But I didn’t, so why don’t you just keep your mouth shut for once?” Then you rolled his eyes at him. You’re going out today, you don’t need this kind of negativity. “Besides, don’t you have your own fucking house? Why are you even here?”

Lando grinned, clearly enjoying how riled up you were. “I’m just saying, those shoes look like something a hobo would wear.”

You groaned in frustration. “God, you’re such an asshole, Norris! Do you ever stop to think before you speak?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He shot back, winking at you.

You felt your cheeks flush, and not from anger. You wanted to punch him, but at the same time, there was this insane urge to grab him by the collar and kiss him just to shut him up. But instead, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, muttering under your breath about how he was the most annoying person on the planet.

But then there were those moments when you saw the other side of Lando, the one that made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t even fucking explain. Like the time when he won his first race in Miami. The whole crowd erupted in cheers, everyone was celebrating his win and you found yourself smiling as he won his first race, a huge smile on his face as he celebrated. Your first instinct was to run up to him and give him a hug and tell him how proud you were. But then, almost immediately, you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck for making you feel this way. He had a unique talent for pushing all your buttons, and yet, no one could make you feel the way he did.

After the race, you all went out to celebrate, and as usual, Lando couldn’t resist teasing you. “Come on, admit it, you were impressed, weren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of your lips. “You were okay, I guess,” you said nonchalantly.

“Okay? Just okay?” Lando feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. “I expected more from my biggest hater.”

“Well, don’t expect me to start fangirling over you now,” you shot back, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

Lando just playfully winked at you, and excused himself, walking away and waving at someone else. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to admit it. To finally confess that maybe the reason why you hated Lando so much was because you love him in a way that no one else could. But you quickly dismissed that thought, shaking your head. There was no way you’d ever let him know how much he affected you. Not when he had the power to break your heart with a single word.

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was the center of attention, as always, and yet, for a moment, his eyes caught yours, and he smiled. Not a teasing grin that he would always send your way, but a genuine, warm smile. It made your stomach do flips, and you quickly looked away, mentally cursing yourself for being so weak.

In the middle of the night, you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day’s events in your mind. You hated how he could get under your skin so easily, how he made you feel things you didn’t want to feel. It was maddening, infuriating, it drives you nuts, and yet…you couldn’t stop thinking about him. How was it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? You didn’t know. You don’t have an answer for the lingering questions in your mind and it drove you crazy.

“Why him?” You whispered to yourself that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. “Out of all the fucking people in the world, why does it have to be him?”

You knew Lando could be a major asshole, but somehow, he was your asshole. No one else could make you feel this crazy mix of anger, frustration, and affection all at once, and despite all the annoyance, deep down, you knew you loved him. It made you mad, and yet, in some twisted way, it also made sense. No one else could make your heart race like Lando did, that can make you feel so alive, so frustrated, so utterly confused—and most importantly, no else could break your heart like Lando Norris, and you were beginning to think that maybe, you didn’t want anyone else to.

It has been three months since Lando’s first win, but the tension between the two of you hadn’t eased. In fact, it felt like it was growing stronger, pulling you into a confusing spiral of emotions. It was one of those days that you were grateful enough that you were back in uni, and have to forget about him even for a short period of time.

Though it didn’t last long, you can’t stay and hide in uni forever. So here you were, officially back home for a break, and you decided to stay at Max’s for the time being. Prior to arriving from uni, Max had already asked you if you wanted to come with them on their holiday trip, but you passed on it, making up some silly excuse and wanting to get the rest you need since you haven’t had the proper rest back when you were in uni. You wanted to avoid being in the same place with him as much as possible, you definitely don’t trust yourself to keep up the charade of hating him when your heart was screaming the exact opposite.

It was when they’re already back from their trip, and as usual, Lando is at Max’s place. You found yourself in exactly in the situation you’d been dreading. Max had invited Lando over to help him with something, and you figured you could just stay in your room, far away from the inevitable teasing from him. But when Max suddenly had to leave to deal with some urgent matter, you were stuck. It was just you and Lando, alone in the living room, with a show neither of you cared about playing in the background.

Lando being Lando, of course he wasted no time in getting into your nerves. “So, how long are you planning to hide up there?” He asked, his tone annoyingly casual as he sprawled out on the couch.

“I was not hiding,” you retorted, focusing on your phone and pretending he wasn’t there.

“Sure, you’re not,” he said with a smirk. “You’ve been acting pretty weird lately. You didn’t even come to the trip that we invited you on. Is everything alright?”

You nearly choked on your words. How could you even begin to explain what was wrong—that you were utterly terrified of how much you liked him? That every time he teased you, your heart skipped a beat instead of fuming with anger? That you couldn’t fucking stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see the turmoil behind your eyes. God, you just wanted for this conversation to end or better yet, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Oh my god, why do you even care?” You shot back defensively. “You’re just here to annoy me, right? So why don’t you just go call someone and bother them instead?”

Lando’s smirk faded slightly, and he studied you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable. “You think I just want to annoy you?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, frustrated by his persistent questioning. “That’s what you’ve always done ever since, isn’t it?”

Lando shook his head, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “No. Not really.”

The shift in his demeanor threw you off balance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his beautiful curly hair that you want to touch so badly. “It means that maybe I didn’t just do it to annoy you. Maybe there was another reason.”

You blinked, your mind racing to keep up. “What reason?”

Lando sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. “God, this is harder than I thought,” he muttered to himself before finally looking at you. “Look, I’ve known you since forever. Yeah, I used to tease you because you were Max’s younger sister and it was fun. But somewhere along the way, it wasn’t just about teasing anymore. I think I did it because…I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What are you saying, Lando?”

“I’m saying that maybe I’ve had a crush on you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “And I’ve been acting like an idiot because to be fairly honest, I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You stared at him in utter shock, your brain struggling to process what he’d just said. All this time, you thought your feelings were unrequited, that he was just being his usual annoying self, but now, everything was different. The anger, the frustration, the confusion—it all made sense now.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, still reeling from his confession. “Honestly.”

Lando smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know. I get it if you don’t feel the same way, or if you’re too mad at me for being a jerk all these years. But I wanted to be completely honest with you for once.”

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Lando, I—“

But before you could finish, Lando suddenly stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “You know what? I can’t fucking take it anymore.” And with that, he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you, pulling you into a kiss that was both urgent and tender at the same time.

For a split second, you were too shocked to respond. But then, your body seemed to take over, and you found yourself kissing back, all the frustration and anger melting away in the warmth of his embrace. It felt like everything you’d been holding back, all the mixed emotions you’d been burying, finally broke free. When Lando finally pulled back, you were both breathless, staring at each other in stunned silence.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“Because I’ve wanting to do it for a long fucking time,” Lando admitted, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “And because I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me for real.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t hate you, Lando. I…I think I might be falling for you, and it’s terrifying to tell you honestly.”

Lando grinned, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“You’re still an asshole, though.”

“And you’re still a pain in the ass,” Lando shot back, his grin widening.

This time, there was no venom behind your words, no hidden frustration like it was used to. Instead, there was a new understanding between you—a mutual acknowledgment that maybe the thing you’d both been fighting against all these years was exactly what you needed. When Lando leaned in to kiss you again, you realized that no one else could make your heart race like he did, and no one else could make you as crazy or as happy.

However, Lando’s confession and that unexpected kiss did leave you feeling more confused as ever. As much as you wanted to believe in the moment, in the warmth of his touch and softness of his lips, a familiar fear gnawed at the back of your mind. After all, this is Lando Norris that you’re talking about—the guy who seemed to switch girlfriends at lightning speed. You’d seen him charm his way through countless girls, only to move on without any second thought. The idea of being just another name on his list made your chest tighten with fear and anxiety.

As you sat still, still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, Lando looked at you with a hopeful expression, waiting for you to say something. But instead of responding with the excitement that was bubbling up inside you, all you could think about were the stories, the rumors, and the heartbreaks you’d witnessed.

“Lando,” you began, moving away slightly, creating a small but significant distance between you and him on the couch. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” His smile faltered, concern creeping into his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words that won’t hurt him. “Because…” you trailed off, “I know you, Lando. I know your way with girls. Yes, I can’t deny the fact that you’re very charming and sweet when you want to be, but the way you get bored and move on quickly scares me. I…I don’t think I can handle being just another girl you get tired of.” You breathed out.

Lando’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand, but you hesitated. He noticed this right away and dropped his hand to his side.

“I get why you’d think that. I haven’t exactly been the most reliable guy when it comes to relationships, am I?” You nodded and he chuckled, “but this…this is different.”

“Is it?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or are you just saying that because I’m here and it’s convenient?”

Lando shook his head, gaze so intense that you might melt and turn into a puddle any second. “It’s not like that, I promise. I know I’ve messed up before, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You’re not just another girl, and I’m not just saying that. I’m really serious about you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But the fear of getting your heart broken, of being left behind like so many others, made it hard to fully trust his words.

“But what if you get bored? What if this is just a phase for you, and once you’ve had your fun, you move on to someone else?”

He looked at you with an earnestness that you weren’t used to seeing him. “I can’t blame you for being scared. But the truth is, I’m scared too. I’m scared because I’ve never wanted someone so much, something to work out this badly. I don’t want to mess this up. I know I have a reputation, but I don’t want that to be who I am with you. I want to be better—for you.”

You stared at him, your heart warring with your head. Could he really mean what he was saying? Was it possible that he could change, that you could be the one he was serious about? But even as the doubts swirled around you, there was a part of you that desperately wanted to take the leap, to believe that maybe this could be different.

“I don’t know if I can handle getting hurt,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

Lando took a deep breath, his expression sincere. “I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” He said, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear, “I care about you too much to let that happen. But if you don’t want to take the risk, I’ll understand. I’ll back off if that’s what you want.”

You could see the honesty in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your heart ache, knowing that he was giving you the power to decide where this would go. It would be easy to walk away, to protect yourself from the possibility of pain. But then again, what if he was telling the truth, what if this was real.

“No, I don’t want you to back off,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “But I need time, Lando. I need to see that you’re serious before I can let myself fall for you completely.”

Lando nodded, relief washing over his face. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Good. Because I’m not sure I could handle it if you did.”

As the two of you sat side by side on the couch, the show was still playing in the background, the atmosphere between you had shifted. There was no rush, no need to force anything. It was just the two of you, slowly navigating the complicated mess of emotions that came with falling for someone who scared you as much as they made you feel alive, and maybe that this was the start of something real.

[freedomfireflies]

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

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Mafia Ringleader x GN Reader

What? I'm sick of these classic Mafia husbands trope yet we all know damn well that part of us is digging real deep into it. So allow me to hand you one of my Mafia OCs.

One of the nation's biggest threats has yet to be your lover, wagging his imaginary tail as he rested his face on your lap. We are so desensitized to how immoral a mafia is due to the romanticization of it to the point you just straight up ignore all his crimes!

Because of his work, the two of you can't really have a private date somewhere out there. Sure the bodyguards are not in sight but you know better than to think that they are not lurking around to keep you both safe from his rivals.

"Won't you gimme a smooch'aroo?" "... In front of your men?" "*Pouts* Pretty please?"

You love it when he throws all cold facades away and shifts himself into a touch-starved puppy! Who would have known this guy just sent one of his enemies their men's heads as a lingering threat to not exert themselves~

While your lover is not involved in the human trafficking side, it doesn't justify his actions for being the largest drug dealer in this nation. Whatever type you are looking for, junkies, he has it all stored for you, with a price of course.

But if you are a junkie reader then he'd be quite worried. You see, he may be dealing drugs but that doesn't mean he's doing drugs. He likes nicotine but would rather not indulge himself in yet another addiction okay? And that goes the same way to you! Please stop it.

And may I tell you that Kaspar enjoys ranting to you about how his day(s) has been, how he wants you to comfort him as you praise him for surviving yet another day? Empty plates are not filled with him just sitting around and he has to fight every day to not remind himself of the old days?

"Oh yes, have my beloved eaten? You are not going through another silly diet, right? Trust me, food is meant to be enjoyed and not over-calculated!"

There are also times he'd rant non-stop about this certain lawyer that he's working with. Of how one of the nation's biggest threats, has been reduced into an errand boy for his spouse! Can you believe that, babe?

Overall Rating? 9/10. Where did the 1 one go to? Your dead friend that insulted you and his punishments. Ehe.

Look, he has a problem with people who dare to look down on him and you, he has grown up in a rather unfortunate background in which he fights teeth and nails to break free so how DARE someone patronize him or you?

Yeah, it sounds romantic but not so cute when it's your literal bestie. He spares no mercy in how he deals with them too, the only mercy he's offering is one chance and nothing more.

Another dark side of him would be his... punishment. Ehe. Due to his upbringing as a ringleader, he is used to disciplining his men, rough. Sure he doesn't give you the same punishment as he does to his men but that doesn't mean it saves you from how unpleasant it is.

The worst punishment that wrenches his heart would be making you skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner! He doesn't have the heart to but he has to! (Honestly, in your opinion, there is literally worse punishment than this, not gonna name it.)

Yeah he is a Beelzebub at heart (Gluttony)

[obsessedwrhys]

I would like to request being sickly sweet/mushy with ROTTMNT Leo- I'm talking always kissing, cuddling, holding hands, giggling, holding/carrying each other around and even using the most dramatic names (mostly to mess with the rest of the Hamato family- April included) ie. Calling each other shmoopie poo and stuff like that

LOVESICK!LEO DATING HEADCANONS

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ major fluff, lots of cheesy stuff, reader is fem!! (I love this ask sm)

To put it together, you both act like those highschool sweethearts.

One wouldn't be seen without the other, everyone just immediately sees you two as a pair that does everything together.

The dates would be so over the top too.

The most recent one would be when he prepared a dinner date on top of a musuem so you guys could enjoy the view. The place completely decorated with flowers and fairy lights.

Ya'll would definitely have matching things. It doesn't matter if it's a bracelet, necklace or onesie. You both just have the urge to have something that reminds you of the other person.

Which comes easily that you'd own something of his and him having something of yours.

Apparently he had given you his old bandana when he had gotten a new one. Instead of leaving it lying around to catch dust, you decided to use it as a ribbon for a hairtie. Trust that the first time he saw you with it, dude was levitating with heart eyes.

For him, you had gifted him a scarf. He was on cloud nine when he got it because it was entirely your scent. He would smell it every now and then or just wear it when you'd be busy with your daily tasks. It brings him comfort.

That's why everytime you visited after a long time, he'd completely shower you with cuddles and kisses. He doesn't really care if his family sees. Boy is just overjoyed to finally spend time with you again.

Even though his family are happy for him. They honestly wished he could tone it down a bit.

That's because he wouldn't even focus during patrols or missions because he'd just be talking about you. It drives his brothers nuts sometimes.

"Aw man! I forgot to tell (Y/N) goodnight!" Leo panicked.

"We're fighting off a huge squid monster and THATS your concern?!!" Donnie shouted while fending off one of the tentacles.

To be clear, the family doesn't hate you, they are actually welcoming towards you. It's just HIM they find annoying.

It got even worse when they overheard the petnames you both had for each other.

Ranging from petnames such as Booboo Bear to my little ketchup packet (???)

It's worst when he says them in a baby voice towards you.

"Here's your food! I got it all for my shnookums wookums" He'd say as he caresses your face.

Since he's so in love with you, he's willing to give you piggyback rides and carry you around the lair. He's so dramatic with it too.

"Make way!!! The queen is headed to the kitchen!!" He'd shout, making your grand entrance known to everyone nearby.

He has once pushed Donnie aside when he wouldn't move out of the way.

Also, Leo enjoys kissing you a lot. I'm just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️

His favourite spots to kiss you would be easily your cheeks. He finds them super cute that he wishes he would just leave his lips on there forever.

If you happen to have a mole on your face or anywhere on your body, he's kissing it, that's cause he sees it as a marking for him.

One thing I wanna say is that you two happen to have this weird habit of acting out scenes from any tv series you guys would watch together.

It catches the family off guard sometimes because you guys would just break into character out of nowhere.

Scenario ↴

"Pumpy-umpy-umpkin, could you pass me the salt?" You'd ask and Leo would suddenly turn to face you with a soft smirk.

"Oh my sugar-plum, here you go, just the way you love it" He'd say in a more dramatic voice as he hands it to you.

"Uh oh..."

"Oh, you know me so well. A little sprinkle of love… and salt" You'd say, sprinkling the salt into your soup.

"I always do sprinkle a little bit of extra salt in your life, you know... to keep things exciting" He winks at you which earns a disgusted groan out of his brother.

"Uuugggh!! C'mon!!!"

"Don't get carried away now cuppy-cake. I still want you to enjoy our lovely soup" You'd say, feeding him a spoonful that he drinks with a satisfied hum.

"It's perfect... just perfect. We must celebrate this!! To eternal love, salted and peppered!!" Leo would say, holding up his drink, pretending it was wine as he takes a huge gulp from it.

"You guys need help and I mean serious help" April said, pointing her spoon at both of you.

It's always fun to act it out (only for you two) because it would end with you and him bursting into laughter everytime.

Last thing I wanna add is that Leo definitely prepares the bed before you guys cuddle.

He always make sure everything is in place. The pillows, the blankets, some squishmallows, whatever it is that you need!!!

Honestly? He is 100% a loverboy.

[uraniumbones]

For those of you keeping up with the book of Bill and it's accompanying website and the bill cypher backstory. THE PARALLELS GOT ME FUCKED UP.

Spoilers incoming.

people love to talk about the dynamic between Stanford and Bill. Sure, interesting. But you know what people aren't talking about? Stanley and Bill. Specifically referencing the website (thisisnotawebsotedotcom.com)

If you input Stanley a bunch it will eventually open a new document instead of eBay pages. The page mocks Stanley and reveals his secrets or whatever. One of the clickable options on this page is "HOW HE BEAT ME". Each time you click into this is an increasingly deranged meltdown about how it shouldn't have been possible. Calling him a "cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness" among other things. And when further pressed accuses you of acting like "those PREACHY INFANTILIZING AUTOMOTONS AT THE THERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my "FEELINGS"." After that he spirals further eventually talking about "how much pain I'm in" and only in code admitting "I can still see through the eyes of everyone I've ever..." presumably killed.

If you don't know shit about Euclydia read the wiki page on it, it's not long. tldr Euclydia is bills home dimension, which he destroyed and killed every single inhabitant of in blood and fire. He did so (accidentally?) in an attempt to show them the third dimension which (because of a genetic mutation) only he had the ability to see (with his eye). Please also note when Stanford asks about his home dimension Bill says it was"destroyed by a monster".

In the website's many documents it repeatedly makes reference to Bill's parents and how much they loved him, his home, his childhood (he wore velcro sneakers it's actually incredibly cute), the ways in which he was different and not easily accepted.

Now knowing all these things. A pattern may emerge to you. Are you seeing it? Are you seeing the patterns yet?

Obviously Bill hates Stanley because he's stupid and still he somehow beat Bill. That's annoying, maddening even. But I believe it goes beyond that. He hates him all the more passionately because Stanley reminds him of himself. The poem at the end of the Stanley password on the website summarizes it best "always dragged his family down / One mistake, disowned, denied, / only thing to do was hide." Destruction of his own family, running and hiding from his own mistakes. "Reinvent, retry, reload" trying again in a new life. "When your actions make it worse, / When they see you as a curse," Making things worse where you have tried to make them better. "Give the wheel one last spin, / Take your chips and go all in" this is what weirdmagedon was for both of them. and this is where their lives differ "And lucky stan- the rolls on black, / he got his life and family back. / His big break it finally came, / Redemption from a life of shame." AND THERE IT IS. Stanley got his family back. Bill didn't. (Which is what it seems he was attempting). Stanley got his redemption. Bill didn't.

Stanley was a lonely kid fuck up just like Bill was. And he absolutely hates Stanley's guts for it because he hates his own guts for it. And all this time they're the same, just trying to fix those mistakes, to have their family back again, to be loved again. They both have this facade of untouchable aloof levity, the same insults Bill hurls at Stanley may as well be hurled at himself. "Protected from his failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness"? "Cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child"? You can see Bill goes from being outraged and insulting Stanley, to denying a deeper meaning to those feelings (and calling you a therapist), to talking about how much pain he is in (seemingly over all the people he killed in Euclydia), all without any specific prompting. Just pushing. Bill is the one that connected those things. Bill hates Stanley (at least partially) as an act of self hatred. Because he has made the same mistakes and can never forgive himself for them. AND (at least partially) because Stanley is not only just like him, but now just like him if he had succeeded. Stanley got his "Redemption from a life of shame". and in so doing actively prevented Bills.

Now do you see what I'm saying about THE PARALLELS?!

[birdiewriteslit]

OMGGG!!! i saw ur post abt luke requests and im so glad i did bc i have also had a terrible poseidons daughter!reader brainrott

could you write smth about luke and pd!reader sneaking out to go on a date and then getting caught and sassed out by percy?? 🫶

yes ofc! we love persassy here

luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: just persassy and a make out sesh

for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that curfew and harpies don’t exist at chb

The knock came at 10:30 pm. You were feeling very lucky in that moment that Percy was a heavier sleeper than you. You tiptoed to the door, opening it slowly and as quietly as possible.

The moment you turned to face Luke after closing the door with caution, his lips were on yours. You pulled away before he managed to convince you to continue right there in front of your cabin.

“Luke!” you whisper shouted. “You can’t do that here.”

He grinned, bringing both hands to your waist, squeezing once. “What? I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”

“Your secret girlfriend, and no, not until we’re at least fifty feet away from the cabins,” you reminded him.

“Stop pretending you don’t want to,” he said, teasing.

He was right, you were pretending. You were flustered by the kiss, and he could tell. You kind of hated how good he was at knowing and how he was even better at making it worse.

“Let’s just go,” you said, not looking at him as you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the beach.

You eventually made there, getting stopped by Luke’s advances on you every once in a while. He settled next to you on the sand, and tugged at the string on your hoodie. “Can we make out now?”

You gave him a look, one that he knew didn’t actually mean no, even though you tried to make it look like you were serious. “Damn, give me a second. Why’re you so desperate tonight?”

“Because I love you,” he said plainly, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss your cheek. “And I haven’t seen you all day. Is it a crime to miss you?”

You rolled your eyes even though you were blushing. “Stop being so sweet.”

“Stop being so beautiful,” he countered, wasting no time in dropping his head down to meet your lips. You brought your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks and deepening the kiss.

He shifted your legs over his lap with his free arm, the other one pulling you even closer, his fingertips grazing over your hair.

You let your fingers tangle themselves in his curls, slightly tugging at them. He let out small noise, curling his hand around your neck and running his thumb along your jaw. “Oh, Luke,” you moaned into his mouth.

“So, I’m guessing this isn’t the way to the bathrooms?”

Your brother’s voice made you spring away from Luke, pushing him back with your palm on his chest.

Your face was burning as you made a large effort to not make eye contact with Luke. “Percy, you know where the bathrooms are.”

“That’s beside the point. What are you doing with this freak of nature?” he asked, quite seriously, as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Freak of nature?” Luke protested, but Percy held up one hand to silence him.

“Didn’t ask for your input.” He gave Luke a dirty look before turning to you. “Are you going to explain yourself? Hm?”

“We’ve been seeing each other,” you said, looking cautiously over at Luke. “For a while now.”

“A while? You’ve been settling for this pervert for a while?”

“Settling isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Pervert isn’t either,” Luke added unhelpfully.

“Well, judging by what I just walked in on, it’s the one I would use,” Percy said. “Come on, Y/n, let’s go to bed, which is where we’re supposed to be because it’s nighttime.”

“But-“

“No buts! Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

“And here I was, thinking he liked me,” Luke said despairingly.

You stood, wiping sand off of your pants. “He’ll come around,” you reasoned.

“Please, give me one more kiss before I have to say goodbye forever,” he said dramatically, taking your hand and rising to his knees.

You giggled. “You’re so weird.” But you still indulged him, leaning down to press your lips to his.

“Stop doing that!” Percy shouted in the distance.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Trapped (Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig)

Description: Y/N is in love with Patrick but when she thinks that he doesn’t like her back she starts hooking up with Art who is in love with. When Patrick tells Art he likes Y/N without knowing Art and her were hooking up, Art will stop at nothing to make sure they don’t end up together.

Word Count: 3,859k

Author’s note: I didn’t put the warnings because it would be a spoiler. Also I still can’t comment anything on my own posts but I appreciate all the compliments! Thank you sm!! I don’t know why I can’t comment

When Y/N first met Art Donaldson she didn’t think anything of him. He was a well known Tennis player at Stanford and was on his way to becoming big. Art was nice and caring. But Y/N had her eyes on his best friend Patrick Zweig. Patrick was a bit of a player but had her heart. He constantly flirts with her but never makes an actual move. Resulting in Y/N and Art hooking up. Art was attractive Y/N never thought otherwise and when she realized that Patrick probably wasn’t into her she fell into the arms of Art.

Someone who was into her. But it was just sex. Great sex but still sex. After they had sex Y/N would get up and leave his dorm while Art stared at the door praying that Y/N would come to her senses and realize that he was the one for her. Y/N was his best friend besides Patrick and she never mistreated him and almost gave him everything he wanted. But yet he was ungrateful. Anytime he saw Patrick and her talking and laughing he was scared that Patrick would make the ultimate move on her that would end whatever they had going on.

Y/N was at all of his games alongside Patrick cheering him on. When he won (which was almost every time) she would give him the best blowjob of his life. “So are you and Y/N…” Patrick trailed off as him and Art ate lunch together. Art looked at him and laughed. “Why? You finally into her or something?” God he hoped not. Patrick shrugged and it took everything in Art not to drop his smile. “I feel like I should have made a move on her a long time ago.” He said, Art nodded. “Yeah she’s an amazing girl.” Art said.

“Do you think she’s still into me?” Art looked at him and shrugged. “She never talks about you.” That was a lie. Y/N constantly talked about him. To her understanding there are no feelings between her and Art. “Well I guess there’s only one way to tell.” “What are you going to do?” “Talk to her later you dumbass.” Art hummed and felt sick. He almost had everything and Patrick was going to ruin it. 

Y/N gave Art a key to her room. He had a few hoodies there that she had taken from him that he told her he wanted back. She found it odd since he never cared before but gave him the key. As he entered the room he took in the scent. He loved the smell, it reminded him of her. He wasn’t sure where the hoodies were so he went over to her dresser. That’s when he saw her birth control.

He stared at it for a good few minutes before he thought about it. If he gets her pregnant she can’t go be with Patrick. She’d have to stay with him. But that was wrong and he knew it. He grabbed the pills and put them in his Tennis bag. He found the hoodies and left her room, guilt consuming him. “So we are going to have to be extra careful when we fuck because I can’t find my birth control pills and I don’t have time to get a refill so buy some condoms.” She told him as they walked back to her dorm. “Got it.” He said. “Well I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She said and he nodded. 

The next night they fucked for the first time without her being on the pill and to make matters worse Art poked a hole in the condom before she got there. He prayed that this worked. After he came he pulled out and quickly threw away the condom. “Art why does it feel like you came in me?” She asked. He looked at her confused. She reached her fingers down and gasped as she felt his cum leak out of her. “Art holy shit.” She sat up quick. “I don’t understand. I wore a condom.” He said. “It must have broke without either of us noticing.” She said and went to his bathroom to clean herself up. 

The next few weeks Art made sure not to do that for a while so it wasn’t so obvious what he was trying to do. One day Y/N didn’t show up to his game or class. He was concerned and went to check up on her. She was sick. She had been puking all morning and felt terrible. “I think maybe I’m just ill.” She said but how? Y/N was very healthy and never got sick. “I’ll take you to the doctors, come on.” Art was keeping Patrick updated on the situation. Patrick really wanted to talk to her but she was so busy. “Well Ms.Y/L/N you’re pregnant.” The doctor told her. Her jaw dropped and she felt tears in her eyes. She nodded and left the room to go find Art who was waiting in the waiting room.

He stood up as he saw her, “Are you okay?” She shook her head and started crying. He hugged her as she cried. “What’s wrong?” He asked. She pulled away from the hug and sighed, “I’m pregnant.” She whispered. He wanted to celebrate but knew that this wasn’t something planned by the both of them. “What?” He asked softly. She nodded. “And it’s yours.” He gave her a soft smile, “wow.” “Art we aren’t fit to be parents, we aren't even together.” She said.

“We could be.” He said and she shook her head. “We just fuck and I like Patrick.” That annoyed him but he kept it together. “Patrick doesn’t feel the same way Y/N plus you deserve better.” He told her. “How do you know?” She asked him, “He told me.” “No how do you know what I deserve?” He was speechless. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “Can you just take me back?” She asked after silence. He nodded and they left. 

It was a few weeks before Art heard from her. She cried and sobbed for weeks not knowing what to do. Art felt terrible for what he did but he could never tell her. Patrick was upset that she was pregnant and it was by his best friend but he didn’t find that out from Art. He knocked on Y/N’s door worried about why he hadn’t seen her in a while. She answered the door and she looked like a mess. “Holy shit are you okay?” He asked her. She shook her head and let him in. “What happened?” He asked as he shut the door.

She sat on the bed and cried. He sat on the bed with her and pulled her into his chest letting her cry. He rubbed her back and tried calming her down. “Patrick I love you so much.” She said through tears. His eyes widened and he looked down at her. “I know you don’t feel the same way but I needed you to know that.” She said. He smiled and laughed, “are you kidding me? Of course I feel the same way.” Her heart broke. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now.” He said and cupped her face.

At any other time she would have been so happy and smiled but she didn’t. He leaned down to kiss her but before he could she whispered his name. “I’m pregnant with Art’s baby.” He pulled away and looked shocked. “You and Art had sex?” He asked hurt. “We’ve been hooking up for awhile now but only because I didn’t think you liked me back and he confirmed that to me.” She said. “Y/N Art told me you didn’t have feelings for me.” They both look at each other and realized. Art was a shitty friend. 

Y/N banged on Art’s door. He quickly got up and opened the door. There stood a fuming Y/N who had tears streaming down her face. “Hey where have you-“ She smacked him across the face. “You asshole.” She yelled. He was taken back by her sudden anger towards him. “You told both me and Patrick that we didn’t like each other when we did.” She yelled. “You talked to Patrick?” He asked annoyed.

“Is that all you heard? How about the fact that you’re a shitty friend?” She screamed. He looked down at her words, she was right. “Why the fuck would you lie?” She asked. He didn’t say anything and kept looking down. She pulled his chin so that they were making eye contact. “Answer me.” She yelled. “Because I love you!” He yelled back. “And I want to be with you but you want him and he doesn’t deserve you.” He yelled.

“Art, it’s not your place to say whether or not he deserves me.” She tells him. “I know but I can’t, I can’t live without you Y/N. When you told me you were pregnant I was so happy because I thought that finally we could have a shot but no matter what I see now that you will always choose him.” He had tears streaming down his face. Her eyes softened. “Art.” She whispered and walked over to him. “I get it just go be with you him. Just let me see the kid.” He said. She shook her head and cupped his face. “No.” She whispered. She leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked but kissed her back. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. This was all he ever wanted and he got it. 

Y/N finished her first years of college before dropping out. Art stayed in college and managed to become a pro in Tennis. They got a house together near campus so he could still go while she stayed at home. He worried for her and never wanted to leave her alone. Patrick and him were no longer friends. Art got Tashi Duncan as his coach who also helped Y/N. She never judged Y/N for getting pregnant at 19 unlike her family. She made it so Art could continue school and not have to worry. 

Y/N was about ready to pop any second it seemed. Her due date was near so she and Art got everything ready for when the time was to come. It would be in the middle of the night that Y/N woke up screaming in pain. Art freaked out but took her to the hospital and called Tashi. Tashi was there at the hospital as Y/N got ready to push. Art held her hand as she screamed and cried as she pushed out his baby for dear life. Art looked as he heard the baby cry and saw her. He started crying seeing his beautiful baby girl. Tashi smiled as she saw the baby and congratulated the two. 

Playing Tennis and raising a baby was hard but they managed to do it. They both always talked about how she was gonna love Tennis and want to play. She looked just like Art but was a mommy’s girl. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes Babe Tashi is with her, she'll be fine.” Art assured her. She smiled as they walked down the beach that her Art and Patrick used to walk down all those years ago. Their daughter was almost 2 now and everything was perfect. Well almost. Art had a ring in his pocket that he kept playing with out of nerves. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked him as she noticed how nervous he looked. He smiled and shook his head, “I’m perfect.” She smiled but Art stopped walking.

Y/N turned to him confused. “Y/N, I love you so much more than anything on this planet. I couldn’t imagine a life without you or Y/D/N.” He got down on one knee. Y/N covered her mouth with her hand as tears formed in her eyes. “Will you marry me?” He asked. She nodded and smiled, “Yes Art.” She said and pulled him up for a kiss. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away to put the ring on her finger. 

The wedding wasn’t anything crazy just a simple one with close friends and family. Their daughter was the flower girl and Tashi was her maid of honor. Y/N sighed as she stood staring in the mirror as she got her wedding dress on. She looked beautiful. “Are you nervous?” Tashi asked. Y/N looked at her and shook her head, “Nope. I’m so excited and happy.” She said and it was the truth.

She knew that her and Art were meant to be. She had no fear or cold feet. Art stood in the mirror at the same time as her except he was nervous. Y/N hadn’t seen him without his curls as he just got his haircut today. He tried to push in the back of his head what he did years ago. He sighed and stepped away from the mirror. 

Y/N’s father walked her down the aisle. She sighed and looked around at everyone in the chairs staring at her, some in awe. She looked at Art and gasped. He cut his hair. He looked really good. They smiled at each other and what felt like eternity she was finally down the aisle. She faced Art and they both stared at each other in awe. I like your hair, she mouthed to him.

He smiled and thanked her as the priest talked. The phrase “you may now kiss the bride.” Couldn’t come fast enough but when it did. They both laughed in relief and kissed. They sealed their love with a kiss and the crowd cheered. 

Art wasn’t at his best and Tashi couldn’t stop giving him shit for it. She had put him in a challenger claiming that he needed his confidence back. “She says I’m not confident enough.” Art told his wife as they got in bed. She turned to him, “Is she wrong?” He shook his head, “I don’t know.” “From what I know you’re one of the best.” She said and winked at him. He laughed and pulled her on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him. 

“Patrick Zweig is here?” He asked in anger. Tashi nodded and looked over at Y/N who didn’t look upset at all. “Yes but you can beat him.” Tashi told him. Could he though? Y/N never was sure about that but maybe all this anger he had towards Patrick would help or would it distract him? 

“I feel like she planned this.” Art said as they walked into the hotel. “Doubt it babe it’s just coincidence.” She said. It was also a coincidence that Patrick was at the same hotel at the bar. Luckily Art didn’t notice but Y/N did. “I’ll meet you back in the room I’m going to meet up with Tashi.” She told him. He kissed her and entered the elevator. Patrick didn’t see her but she walked up to him. “Patrick?” He turned around and his jaw dropped.

“Y/N.” He exclaimed and hugged her, she giggled and hugged him back. “You look amazing.” He told her. “You do too.” He did oh god he did. He looked sexy. They stared at each other for a while, no words exchanged. Patrick saw the wedding ring on her finger. “So you married him?” He asked trying to hide the disappointment. She nodded, “yeah I did.” “How’s he doing?” “Good.” He nodded. “I don’t have a lot of time Pat but I just wanted to say Hi.”

“I’m glad you did.” She walked away but he called her name again. She turned to face him, “Do you ever think about what would have happened if you never got pregnant?” She didn’t answer him she just looked down. “Goodnight Patrick.” She said and walked away. 

She stared at the ceiling wide awake as Art slept next to her. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Patrick. His question. Of course she thought about it. How could she not? It was sick to say but that was the only reason she gave Art a chance. She doesn’t regret it though but of course the what if? Crossed her mind. 

She cheered as Art won over and over again leading up to the finales. Tashi may have been hard on him but it paid off. Y/N hadn’t seen Patrick since that night. She wondered how he was doing, she never got to ask. She didn’t tell Art that she saw him let alone talked to him. That would make him more mad than he already was. It was the final game before the finals. It looked like him and Patrick would be facing off.

“Hey Art forgot his bag can you go grab it for him?” Tashi asked. She nodded and walked off to the locker room. She went to his locker and grabbed the bag. She smiled as she saw it was the one from college. She swung it over her shoulder but heard what sounded like pills? She put the bag down and looked in the bag for what that noise could possible be. She shuffled the bag again and opened the front pocket. She pulled out pills. She was confused until she realized that they were birth control pills. WTF? She thought.

She gasped when she realized that they were the ones she lost. Why did Art have them? She never took them around him. She shook her head and put them in her pocket and took the bag to Art. “Hey I’ll be right back.” She tells him and she walks away. She takes the pills out of her pocket trying to figure out why he had them. She sat on the grass and thought really hard. She gasped as she remembered how Art hated the fact that she and Patrick liked each other. He lied to both of them about the other's feelings.

Y/N remembered the time he asked for her keys and after that day she couldn’t find the pills. Art took them. She felt sick as she realized. Tears were streaming down her face as she realized that Art planned her getting pregnant. She got up and put the pills back in her pocket. “Hey.” She looked up and saw Patrick. “Hi.” He could see her teary eyes and walked up to her. “Are you okay?” He asked her. “Can you pick me up at midnight?” She ignored his question. “Sure…but are you okay?” He asked her, “we will talk about it.” She tells him and walks away. 

Art had won and was in the finals with Patrick. She hide her sickness towards him and congratulated him. Art hadn’t suspected a thing thankfully. 

“Promise me that if I lose tomorrow it won’t matter.” Art stood in the bathroom doorway. She looked at him confused. “What?” “If I lose tomorrow, promise me that it’ll be okay. We will be okay.” She stared at him, “Why wouldn’t be?” “Baby please.” “Yes Art everything will be okay. I don’t care what the outcome is tomorrow I will love you no matter what.” She tells him and unfortunately that was the truth. She’s grown to love him and even though what he did was awful she still did love him. 

Patrick smiled as he saw Y/N run to his car. She got in the passenger seat. “Drive.” He pulled away from the hotel and drove off. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He asked. “Pull over first.” She told him. He turned into an empty parking lot and parked. He turned towards her. She looked at him and handed him the pill bottle. He looked at it, “birth control pills? Why are you giving me these?” He asked her.

“I was taking those all through high school and college and never once missed a beat.” She tells him. “Okay?” She sighed, “Remember when I got pregnant?” He nodded. “Art took those from me so it would happen.” Patrick’s jaw dropped, “what? Are you sure?” She nodded. “I found those in his Tennis bag he had from college, he brought it with him and I never took those in front of him. One night I give him my key so he can take back his hoodies and after that I couldn’t find them.” “He hated that we liked each other.” Patrick said, “he lied about it Patrick.

He wanted this. Hell when I went to his room to confront him he guilt tripped me. I wasn’t going to be with him just cuz he got me pregnant. I loved you.” She exclaimed. “Y/N?” She looked at him, “do you still have feelings for me?” 

Patrick looked over at Y/N as he bounced the ball. Y/N kept a straight face as he bounced the ball a few times. Art watched as Patrick put the ball to the center of the racket. Art’s face dropped and he looked at Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. He looked at Patrick who nodded and smirked. “Fuck off.” He yelled. Patrick hit the ball and Art didn’t hit it back. Y/N held back tears as she watched Art’s world crumble. Why did she feel bad for him? 

Y/N hugged Patrick after they both came down from their highs. He inhaled her sweet scent. “I’ve dreamt about doing that.” He said in her neck. “In your stinky car?” She joked. He chuckled, “not exactly but it works.” He said and pulled away from her neck. She kissed him and it wasn’t full of lust. No it wasn’t something else. Love? He kissed back. 

They played Tennis like they hadn’t played Tennis before. And it was a great scene. Art was definitely angered but felt like it was deserved. Patrick was on top of the world that he got to sleep with Y/N. It was a crazy thing when at first it wasn’t clear who won. 

Y/N laid on Patrick’s chest as they laughed. “So you and Art had a secret way of telling each other when you fucked someone?” She asked. He nodded, “Yup. I almost wanna do it tomorrow.” “Will he know it’s about me?” “He should.” “Do it then.” Patrick looked down at her, shocked. “Really?” She nodded and looked up at him. “But I still love him.” She said softly and Patrick nodded. 

Art entered the hotel room with Y/N walking behind him. “So Patrick and you?” He asked. She nodded, “Why?” She took out the pills and gave them to him. His face turned more white than it already was. “How did you find these?” He asked her. “Your tennis bag is the same one from college.” She told him. “You hate me now don’t you?” He asked softly. She shook her head, “ No. I should but I don’t.” He looked up at her with relief. “You’re a piece of shit Art.” She tells him and his face drops. “But I’m willing to forgive you if we can add Patrick into our relationship. I’m not an idiot, I know you two had a thing for each other.”

[cerise-on-top]

Poly!141 x Reader

Imagining being in a happy and healthy relationship with these four has worked wonders for my mental health, it's unbelievable. So naturally, I was gonna write something about this. And I will write about this again because they bring me so much joy and I adore these lads.

Once the fighting is done and they can finally relax with each other and you, no matter how brief the respite may be, you can be absolutely certain you’ll be caught between Johnny and Kyle. John is usually too busy to come cuddle immediately and Simon needs to be coaxed into the pile. It doesn’t take a lot of coercion, though. If he’s tired enough you can simply beckon him closer and he’ll wrap himself around whoever’s nearest.

John needs to be dragged away from work, though, which is a lot harder to accomplish. Fortunately, Simon is strong enough to simply pick him up and carry him to the couch. John proceeds to tell all of you that he’ll indulge you for five minutes only, but that has been a lie every single time since he has a tendency to fall asleep when surrounded by the warmth of his beloveds.

It’s fairly domestic with the four of them, actually. Sure, they can be rowdy boys who do like to fight and spar with each other, especially Kyle, Johnny and sometimes Simon, but whoever so graciously cooks that day will receive a kiss on their temple as well as Simon’s assistance. He has a sixth sense for when someone in the household needs something and helps them out however he can. He’s not such a bad cook either, he knows quite a few recipes since he’d been alone for a long time.

Kyle spent a lot of time outside the UK, so he knows quite a bit on how to prepare exotic foods from where he had been. John, too, can cook quite well, even better than Simon. Johnny, however, never really had too much time to learn and it never interested him that much either, but the few recipes he does know he can do really well. If you’re ever in the mood for baking you should call Simon, he actually has taken a liking to it.

As mentioned before, there will be some play-fighting here and there. Most of the time nothing severe happens, but sometimes someone’s ankle gets twisted or a shoulder needs to be put back in place. No one really gets mad, it just happens, but sometimes you have to chime in and tell them to stop before someone gets hurt even worse. Sometimes they listen, sometimes they keep going in secret. They have a surprising amount of energy that needs to be let out.

If they decide to take the sneaky route that day, call John. They do respect and love you, but there’s a good chance John will be more stern with them than you will. If one of you is hurt, then the others will do what they can to keep you happy. If it’s you and you’re a civilian, you can be certain they’re taking turns staying with you and checking in on you to make sure you’re okay. That’s one of the perks of dating several people: If one of you is sick or injured then someone else will always be at home to take care of you.

Game nights happen occasionally. Simon prefers card games since he’s hard to read and they don’t always rely on luck, Johnny likes board games simply because he wants to get on Simon’s nerves from time to time. It never works, but he doesn’t mind that either. Kyle is neutral about it, but will jab at whoever is losing. In the same sentence, though, he sometimes also makes fun of whoever is winning from time to time, especially if they’ve won a few rounds that night already.

John is flexible when it comes to games, he’s just happy to be there with you. Yes, you’re bickering because you’re certain Simon cheated at UNO, but there’s something pleasant about that chaos. It’s not a war he’s fighting, it’s home. It’s his partners getting riled up about something small, such as the dice getting stuck on the table’s leg and showing two numbers at once. It reminds him that that’s what he’s fighting for.

Kyle and Johnny have a tendency to be little shits from time to time. They’re not on base, they don’t need to show proper etiquette all the time and can just let go. Sometimes they’re playing hide-and-seek with one of them lying in wait for someone unassuming to walk by and scare them, other times they drag whoever is nearby along with them for a stroll to the nearest cafe or bar for a drink or two. If that person is willing, great! If they’re not they’ll simply pick them up and force them outside.

Going drinking with the two of them is fun, though. Johnny can hold his liquor really well, Kyle has learned how to do that as well. If you’re a lightweight then you’re gonna get teased to hell and back about it. It’s not impossible to get them drunk, but Johnny’s gonna take it as a challenge to outdrink you. Once either of you is wasted, you call either John or Simon to pick you up. While they may pretend to be annoyed or disappointed in you, they do think conversing with your drunk selves is fun. Kyle gets a bit less cheeky and more affectionate and Johnny gets even more bold and handsy, but nothing more than that happens. If your drunk self is also more on the affectionate side then you’re gonna get cuddled and kissed like there’s no tomorrow.

If the five of you are proud owners of a house then you’ll find Simon getting into gardening at some point. He bought a house plant at one point because he heard taking care of one is good for your health, and so it started out with a small aloe vera branch he was able to get from an acquaintance. Watching the little plant grow brought him immense joy, so he opted for another one. A few seasons later he started his own mini garden in his backyard, planting watermelons, paprikas, tomatoes, anything that would grow. He trims the apple tree, he harvests the fruit and asks you to bake an apple pie with him.

John gets wind of that and is very proud of Simon for having such a relaxing hobby, helping out whenever he can. If Simon ever gets sick then either you or John are the ones to take care of the plants. Kyle can keep a cactus alive for some time if he tries real hard, Johnny has drowned two cacti already. Simon revoked his plant rights for that one. The plants have names, but only Simon knows them and he won’t tell anyone. The very first few he ever got are named after you, John, Kyle and Johnny.

Even off-duty, John can be rather strict at times. He means well, though. His soldiers are disciplined, most of the time, at least, but sometimes they can act a bit inappropriately, be a bit too energetic when he wants to take a nap. So, sometimes punishment is in order. It’s nothing bad, though. Someone is put on dishwashing duty, maybe having to clean out the basement in general. Small tasks that need doing anyway. He can be a bit more rough if he wants to, but that’s usually mellowed out a bit by him using a soft and kind voice.

It’s rare for either of you to stand up against him because he’s pretty much always in the right, but if you do he’s willing to hear you out. He still has an air of authority around him from time to time, so if some of you are able to change his mind he won’t hold it against you. John is well aware that miscommunication causes a lot of problems, so he will always hear you out, no matter what it is. This goes for other things as well. Had a rough day? Wanna tell someone about the cute stray you saw? He’s the last person to shoo you. In fact, it makes him happy when you tell him those things, it shows him that he’s trustworthy in your eyes and such a thing is worth more than the world’s gold reserves to him.

Johnny adores having an exercise partner, it doesn't matter whether you’re jogging in the morning or straight up lifting weights at the gym. If he can, he'll always drag one of you along, there’s no specific schedule to which one it is either. Normally he asks Kyle since he also goes to the gym from time to time and, being as competitive as they are, they motivate each other quite well to try and raise their limits. If you don’t exercise, for whatever reason, Johnny will try to get you to start doing it. You don’t have to run five kilometers straight, you don’t have to cycle for an hour, but even the smallest of steps would make him incredibly happy. You’re trying, that’s all that matters.

He’s very supportive as well but won’t go overboard. As soon as you get dizzy or your arms or legs get wobbly you will take a break. But no matter what, he’ll always reward you for doing so well. You’ll get a kiss, a hug, a piece of fruit, whatever small thing you want. Always reassures you that you’re not dragging him down either. Yes, he could most definitely run a marathon if he wanted to, but you can’t and that’s okay. Baby steps, you’ll get there eventually. Has a schedule for which exercises he does when. Even if he simply gets to stretch with you in the morning he’s more than happy to take that chance. Might make an inappropriate comment or two during yoga the first few times, though. But you’re dating, so he doesn’t mean anything bad by it. Tell him to tone it down and he will.

Kyle is the type of guy, who, in order to unwind, plays extremely stressful games. Bloodborne, Elden Ring, Sekiro. And yes, he does start swearing up a storm when he’s frustrated enough. Will refuse any and all affection until he’s beaten the boss as well. You can get him to play more relaxing games with you as well, though. Give him a Pokemon game and you’ll find him having caught each and every single one of them at some point. Because he’s a smart cookie he can probably recite some of the Pokedex entries as well. But his favorite games are still the darker games.

Won’t shy away from something along the lines of Team Fortress 2 or Portal either. In fact, he’s probably the one to make the suggestion of playing those games together. Sometimes Simon and you watch him play, with Simon giving him pointers if he’s having a hard time. Naturally, Kyle snaps back from time to time and dares Simon to beat the boss since he’s so smart. Despite being no gamer whatsoever, after a few tries, usually three to four so he can learn the game mechanics and the controls, Simon is able to beat almost any boss, as long as it’s not a rhythm game. Kyle is stumped every time, but you don’t dare to make a sound in case he makes you play next. Is grateful anyway, but a bit embarrassed because what was the last game Simon even played properly? Super Mario World? That was more than 20 years ago.

[peachhcs]

a fic or blurb of ryan’s farewell party for will pls?!

charm bracelet

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy heads to boston after ryan begs her to fly out for will’s farewell party in hopes of reconciling things between the ex-couple (writing grace and samy’s dynamic was actually so fun because i’ve never wrote them before)

2.1k words

i got so carried away with this it wasn’t gonna be this long but it turned into a whole fic. the ending of this is a bit interpret how you want, but in my mind it’s them not completely ignoring one another, but they aren’t gonna talk it out for a long while. p.s. the baby grace and will photo i found is actually adorable!

au masterlist

"please come?" ryan begged over the phone while samy sat at her desk pondering the offer he'd been trying to convince her of for the last twenty minutes. "if not for will, then for us? don't know when we'll see you if you aren't coming out to boston as often anymore," the brunette continued making samy feel even worse.

"hey, i'll still come to boston. i didn't just go for will, you know," the girl rolled her eyes slightly.

"then come out to see us. you don't even have to see will if you don't want. there will be enough people that you'll probably be able to avoid him," ryan kept persisting because 1. he knew samy still cared deep down and 2. she was their friends too and he knew the guys really wanted to see her again before school started back up.

"you're so annoying," she teased a bit making them both laugh. "i'll think about it, okay? i might have to be back at school, but i'll see."

"promise?"

"i promise," samy nodded and the two ended the call. when her phone found its place back on her desk, samy knew damn well already that she was completely free that weekend. she just didn't know if she could stomach potentially seeing will.

—

two weeks later, samy and her mom were on a plane to boston for the party. ellen was still very close to colleen and after being there for will his entire life, she wasn't missing this despite everything that's happened.

gabe and ryan drove into the city the day before to catch up with samy themselves. will didn't have much idea that the hughes were in town and probably wouldn't find out until tomorrow at the party.

"hey, hughesy," ryan greeted with a large smile. his arms quickly slid around the girl's frame in a tight hug before letting gabe take his turn.

"hi, it's good to see you guys again," samy grinned widely. she really did miss seeing them. it'd been since worlds that they were all together like this.

"i'm glad you came out. i didn't think you would," gabe admitted as the three sat at a small table waiting for the waiter to take their orders.

"i didn't think i was coming either, but i wanted to see you guys before school started and we'd get too caught up in everything," the brunette explained which made them smile.

"i can't believe school's gonna start again. feels like it just ended," gabe chuckled.

"don't remind me," ryan groaned earning more laughs from the other two.

the three quickly filled each other in on the things they missed. it felt like old times when everyone was in michigan together spending weekends sitting on a floor going back and forth with stupid little games. all of that felt like such simpler times because no feelings were involved. at least not any known feelings.

things settled a bit as samy and the boys ate their sandwiches they ordered and the topic shifted to one samy knew was gonna come up eventually.

"i don't know if i've said this to you, but will's a real idiot," gabe said quietly.

samy's jaw clenched a bit, "yeah, he is."

"have you..talked to him at all?" ryan wondered and the girl instantly shook her head.

"no and i don't really want to. i don't even know what i'd say to him or what he could say that would make me forgive him. he threw it all away and that really fucking hurts," samy admitted truthfully.

"right and you have every right to not wanna talk to him. he was an asshole for not trying to talk things out with you," gabe nodded in agreement.

"can i just say one thing though? i'm no way trying to defend anything that he said or did, but you gotta remember how will is with this kind of stuff sometimes. he says the wrong things when he's thinking something else. you guys were best friends above everything. you know him better than any of us probably. you really want to leave things on this note?" ryan said softly.

samy's gaze flicked away from the boys knowing ryan did have a small point in the back of her mind, but she wasn't ready to admit that. things were confusing and hard.

being back in boston had this pull on her. everything she's ever known came from michigan and boston—will being one of those things. he hurt her so badly, yet a really, really small part of her wanted to reach out.

"it doesn't matter anymore, ry. he meant what he said and even if he didn't wanna say it, he still did. i was basically worthless to him," samy couldn't though. her head overruled her heart knowing she needed to stand her ground because there was nothing more she could say to him.

—

will's entire house was packed with people. room to room, wall to wall, lawn to lawn—there were people everywhere. ryan wasn't wrong that samy could lose herself pretty easily into the crowd.

she hung outside a lot because out there she could escape anywhere if she saw will whereas inside could end up trapping her if she wasn't careful. she happily caught up with drew, aram, vote, and cutter who greeted her with bright smiles.

the idea of even being in the same proximity as will sent goosebumps down the girl's arms. her eyes were constantly flicking around as if she would see him turn some corner and make eye contact.

somehow, she managed to find a corner where it wasn't too crowded by the lawn chairs. the youngest hughes sat out on them just people watching when familiar locks of blonde hair started coming her way. for a moment, samy tensed, wondering how grace took the news about their breakup because she hadn't exactly talked to the oldest smith sibling since it happened.

"hey, samy," the older girl greeted warmly.

"hi, gracie," samy smiled, relaxing a bit when she saw the girl's smile.

"i'm happy to see you. it's been awhile," grace found a seat beside her for a moment while the brunette nodded a bit.

"yeah, it has," her gaze flicked away because they both knew why it had been awhile since they saw one another. grace didn't make a huge appearance at the family vacation a few months ago since she was busy apartment hunting and even then, her and samy didn't talk much because they never got to catch one another at the right time.

"this might be a stupid question, but..how are you?" the older girl wondered gently.

"i'm..i'm okay. hanging in there, i guess," samy nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

"i'm sorry i haven't talked to you since..i don't want you to think i hate you or anything. last month was super busy and you looked busy and i didn't know if it was too soon to ask about everything.." grace trailed off a bit when she realized she was rambling. samy quickly shook her head.

"don't worry about it. i was worried you hated me," a small laugh sounded from the soccer players lips.

"oh my god no! i don't. i promise. i actually..am mad at will for how all of this happened. i..i was shocked when you left and i found will out there..i'm sorry. i..i wish i had an answer for my brother's reason, but i don't. i..i don't know why he broke up with you," grace frowned deeply.

"i left in such a mess, i'm sorry again. everything happened way too fast," samy shook her head.

"have you talked to him since.."

"ry and gabe asked me that yesterday and i said no. i mean, i have nothing to say to him, so why would i, you know?" the brunette shrugged.

"right, of course. mom told him this morning you and your mom were coming. that went over..interesting to say the least," grace tapped her finger against her cup.

"i've been avoiding him, i guess. i'm not sure i can really stomach seeing him, but..i don't know. felt like i owed it to him to be here at least? and the other guys too. don't know when i'll see them again. this whole thing feels like it screwed up everything with everyone," samy laughed dryly.

"i get it. i'm glad you did come. i saw your mom earlier, it was good to see her. even if will won't admit it, i know he's glad you're at least here too. one last hurrah before we move him out to california," grace said.

samy thought back to all the times will would talk about his move to cali whenever it happened. he'd always say how she'd fly out with him to help him decorate his apartment when the time came. plus, all the times will told her how he couldn't wait until they could live together so long distance would be over, yet he'd wait forever for her.

god, what happened to that will?

"you're thinking," the blonde pointed out, snapping samy back into reality.

while will knew her insanely well, so did grace. the two girls did grow up alongside one another even though there was a three year age gap. grace was the older sister samy never had as a little girl and she still was, so of course the older girl knew when samy was lost in thought.

"yeah, sorry," the younger girl shook her head.

"penny for your thoughts?" the expression made samy smile because will said the same thing.

"just how will always talked about me being there with him when he moved to california and how he couldn't wait until i was done with school to move out there with him. i wonder where that will went who was so ambitious about us and saying he would wait forever for me," the younger girl smiled sadly.

a little sigh escaped grace's lips hearing samy sound so heartbroken still. "i wish i knew what was running through his mind. i didn't even know he was considering it. it shocked the hell out of all of us. he's in there still somewhere, i know it and i know you don't wanna hear that, but i gotta believe it. i have never seen my brother like someone as much as he likes you, it confuses me how he just threw it all away like that," the blonde shook her head.

"you and me both," samy frowned this time.

"i think you just gotta give it time because damn, all of us believed you guys were it for each other. you'll find your way back, i think you two just need some space. will needs to settle in california and play a few games with the sharks and then i'm sure he'll come around. i don't believe this is the true end for you guys," grace said firmly.

the youngest hughes wanted to believe her so badly, but she just couldn't.

"maybe. it's hard to say though," samy said instead of being a complete pessimist about it.

the party ended a few hours later with samy successfully avoiding any contact with will. she didn't even see him which was surprising because she knew he was making his rounds.

her and her mom drove back to the hotel in silence just unwinding from the long day and talking to everyone they saw.

samy was brushing her teeth when her mom stuck her head in. the younger girl raised her eyebrow in confusion.

"i have a gift from you from someone i spoke to today," ellen said vaguely. the brunette raised her eyebrow.

"who?"

mrs. hughes didn't say anything while she just placed the envelope into samy's hand. the girl saw her name scribbled across the top in handwriting that she quickly recognized as will's. samy's gaze snapped to her mom's.

"i told him he's gonna do great in san jose," ellen said because she knew her daughter knew who that envelope was from.

the older woman slipped out of the bathroom leaving samy with the gift in her hand. she should've thrown it away, but curiosity got the better of her and she carefully ripped it open.

there wasn't any note or card, only a small charm of a shark.

her eyes danced to the charm bracelet sitting on her wrist that held her most precious charms.

will knew everything about her charm bracelet because he supplied most of the charms on the chain.

she remembered seeing the shark charm in some little gift shop with will many months ago, quickly mumbling something about how adorable it was and would fit the aesthetic for will's soon to be san jose career.

she had no idea will went back to buy it for her.

samy even wondered how long he's had it for.

without a word, samy clipped it onto the chain, adding one more pretty charm to her bracelet and a tiny smile painted her lips.

[jjsfavgirl]

NSFW alphabet • j.maybank

Enjoy this!!

Warnings: p in v sex , oral m and f receiving , shower sex , dirty talk , fingering , aftercare , corruption kink , sex toys , dom! JJ , sub! JJ , dom! Reader , Sub! Reader , eating cum , oral fixation, size kink , smoking weed , mentions of UTI , male masturbation , talk of erections? , teasing , quickies.

18+

-

A- after care | JJ is BIG on taking care of you after you have sex, because of how rough he is afterwards he’s a big softie. Lets you wear his shirts, even sits with you in the bathroom checking on your while u pee as to avoid a UTI, he’ll then carry you back to bed place a kiss on your forehead then cuddle you till you both fall asleep.

B- body part | as much as he loves your personality my man is an ass man at heart, always squeezing your ass while you’re bouncing up and down on his cock, giving it it firm slap whenever you are just existing in your house. He always gives you his smaller boxers just so he can see your plump bum cheeks sneak through the bottom.

C- cum | my man cums HARD. Especially if he doesn’t masturbate for a while his white liquid comes out in strings after strings. He makes many jokes about being a proclaimed “artist” after he’s covered 90% of your body in his seed. Your face, your tits, your stomach,your ass, your thighs.

D- dick | JJ is fucking hung, he always thought he was average due to all the porn he’s watched. But when you first fooled around at the château, you were on your knees in front off JJ as he was man spread on John B’s couch when he quickly fumbled to open his belt and slide down his long cargo shorts which caused his large hard length to spring out of his boxers. He loves the thought of his big dick pressing against all the walls in your cervix , doing the stomach trick just to see him tip above your belly button.

E- experience | he had slept with quite a few girls before he met you, but once he did he stopped fooling around with girls out of respect in case you one day felt the same. He has experience on the sex side of things but he lacked the emotional connection with most his previous partners so when he met you he almost cried the first time you had sex. ( my poor touch starved baby ).

F- favourite position | he doesn’t understand all the really intricate positions he just thinks fucking is fucking and you don’t need to be mid twister match in order to have an orgasm. His favourite position is simple, you laying in his bed, his hands beside your head as he plowed into you from above, looking down at your orgasm face in awe.

G- goofy | his highness depends on how silly he is during sex. If he’s high he’ll be laughing and smiling the whole way through, it’s ten times worse if you’re both high, it’s just a laughing mess. But both fully sober and not in an intoxicated state he’s more serious.

H- hair | he has never once dared to try shave down there. Out of fear he might slice off his dick and also how much you begged him not to whenever he randomly brought up the subject of even trimming his pubes.

I- intimacy | the way he shows his intimacy during the act is with his words. He’s very vocal during sex. Doing so well for me baby , you can take it I know you can , c’mon princess cum for me , you’re so beautiful , m’fuck love this pussy.

J- Jack off | he is just as feral with masturbating as he is with sex, he’s cut down on his masturbation since you started dating ( always being able to have you get rid of his erections ). However, before you were dating my man would have to run back into the château bathroom after a day of watching you play volleyball with the other pogues in your tight pink bikini as your tits bounced around and almost slipped out every time you ran over to JJ in order to high five him.

K- kink | he isn’t the most kinky person ever, but he loves the thought of completely ruining you (corruption kink I think this is ) . If you’re a good girl kook he’ll love plowing into you and reminding you what your family would think about their A+ perfect daughter getting fucked rough by a dirty pogue.

L- location | he is a mostly bed sex guy. He doesn’t want to get caught or let anyone else see you in the orgasmic state that’s only for his bright blue eyes to see.But he loves surprising you by jumping into the shower with you, lathering your tits up with soap as he blows his load into your from behind.

M- motivation | he’s mostly turned on by just you in general. Your whole being makes him hard. But his main thing is kind of weird. It’s you being nice. If you smile brightly at him my man is bricked up immediately, or if your having a conversation with the bar tender as they’re making yours and his drinks he’ll watch your face intently as you smiled and laughed with the girl across from you ( if it’s a man it’s a different story ).

O- oral | as much as he loves getting his dick sucked, his favourite thing ever is pleasing his girl. He’s always eating you out, every spare second he has his tongue is exploring your folds as his finger enters your dripping hole. His tongue will flick and suck your clit as his fingers will brush against your gooey g-spot. ( he will also know that you have a massive oral fixation and will always bight his biceps whenever he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt or no shirt at all.)

P- pace | usually his pace varies during sex depending on the type of sex , sometimes he’ll be rough and fast and quickly overstimulate you enjoying watching you squirm but the other time he’ll be slow, allowing you to fully adjust to his size and stretching your walls, he will talk you through it and place kisses all over your face every time he lent down to your face.

Q- quickie | no matter how rough and fast he is, JJ isn’t the biggest fan of quickies, of course he will fuck your quickly in your pink bikini before going on a boat trip with the pogues but he prefers sex sensual and slow.

R- can’t think of one :( the prompt I’m using says risk for R but I can’t think of any I’m sorry guys :)

S- stamina | my man is fucking energetic , never once stopping to take a break during sex or take a breath while eating your pussy. But the second you both pull back, chests heaving up and down and heavy breaths filling the room he’s out like a light, falling asleep immediately or being stuck in a fucked haze.

T- toys | JJ doesn’t own any toys for himself but enjoys using your own toys on you. He’s not into the whole BDSM thing but he’s willing to use your vibrator and dildos on you so he can watch you in overstimulated pleasure.

U- unfair | JJ fucking Maybank is the biggest tease known to man. He will tease you from the second you get on the HMS Pogue. Hand on your thigh which inches closer to the hem of your bikini, pulling you into his lap and gripping your bare hips with his ringed fingers and lightly rubbing you against his hard erection.

V- volume | he’ll always try and match your volume, if your quiet, he’s gunna be quiet. But, he will always be talking you through it . M’Doing so good f’me baby , taking me so well , this pussy was made for me.

W- wild card | a random head cannon: he always tells John B and Pope that he’s the dominant one always. Which is pro dominantly true. Sometimes . Sometimes he’ll crumble under your touch as you’re overstimulating the poor boy by grinding forwards and backwards on his long length as it hits all the right places inside you, his hair was soaked in sweat at the tips as his ringed hands cling tightly to your bare hips, moving you in all the place he wanted causing his head to tilt back in pure ecstasy.

X- X-ray | under his clothes (we’ve all seen in obx cmon my mansey is fine) he has very tough muscular arms, his abs are formed into a perfect six pack which makes you drool every time he’s on top of you thrusting into you while you whine and beg for more.

Y- yearning | luckily for JJ he was blessed with a girlfriend with just the same sex drive as him. Let me just say for the first month of your relationship all you and JJ wanted was to be with each other inside all day, every day. Let’s just say you still go at it like rabbits and nothing has changed.

Z- zzzz | after sex, JJ’s eyes will to shut but he knows that he has to take care of his princess first, cleaning up his left overs from between her thighs, placing a soothing kiss on her still sweaty forehead before carrying her to the toilet for her after-sex-piss before carrying her back to bed and tossing one of his weed smelling shirts over her head with a smile.

Enjoy!!!

[sharkenedfangs]

— SUFFERING FROM A FEVER, BUT I REALLY NEED TO FUCK A FEMBOY OR TOMBOY . . .

it’s getting bad again , robin . hnnngh . . . fuuck .

Running down bad with a fever, my words make no fuckin’ sense and half of what I’ll write will be incoherent, horny bullshit but I gotta— I gotta fuck a motherfucking femboy or tomboy in the ass. Either will do cuz’ sure I’m suffering like hell here, stuffed nose, annoyingly itchy throat and godawful temperature, though I’m pretty sure cummin’ inside one of those two or even fuckin’ better, both — will do just fine. Seriously, I mean it.

some slut shaming, weird gender roles, y’know.

FEMBOY ROBIN. Really, really gotta. Y’know, there’s nothing more embarrassing than to properly wear such a skimpy skirt in the own, tight confines of his narrow room with your watchful gaze carefully set upon him, but what’s even worse? Same thing in public, comfortably sat atop your thighs as if nothing is amiss because yeah, surely, nothing is. Nothing wrong with two boys casually hanging out which, said boy is humiliatingly dressed up like a girl right now — who no one truthfully knows nor is consciously aware of. Cock pitifully tented against the front of his summer dress, yellowish material darkening in shade from the oozing pre uncontrollably spilling forth.

And, it’s not like you’ll actually try anything with the towns-folks eyes hidden amongst the lurking shadows, right?? You wouldn’t— you’re not truly like them, the fuckin’ perverts. Shamelessly slobbering over every inch of his untouched, pristine skin, skirmish legs and nervous fingers tentatively messing with the hem of his silken skirt as if your firm grip isn’t steadily increasing along his plush thighs. Like, you’re not ‘discreetly’ spreading his legs apart so that an unfortunate passerby may consequently catch a perverted glimpse of his cock all flushed and leaking for you. Quivering tip, hot and red, trickling out more beads of pearly pre-cum to messily stain at the ground below. It’s not that he means to get all hard like that! Shit— this is solely your fault for deftly exposing him to a hefty crowd like this, your little, pretty ‘girlfriend’ you coyly call him as, might as well proudly show her cute, pink cock to the world if she’s gon’ be such a crude, perverted freak ‘bout it. Only deserving of the typical ‘girlfriend’ treatment which merely entails the usual of having his slutty hole stuffed full of cock, his own miserably swaying with every subtle bounce of your hips upwards, flushed against his ass. Whoops, better luck next time! Try not to dress like a little, fuckin’ whore if you don’t wanna get publicly fucked in broad daylight, Robin!

As for TOMBOY ROBIN? Would it have been any different for her case? Treat ‘em equally, they say — fuck, yeah — you definitely will, with your face snugly nestled between the gap of her thighs, wobbly lips and scrunched up features straining from every careful lick of your wet, pink tongue provokingly huffing against her bare cunt. Uh-huh? Pretty girl likes that or maybe, you should openly refer to her as your pretty, innocent boyfriend, arm contentedly slung over her shoulder because ain’t this how friends typically treat each other as? Promise, they do, Robin.

If anything, it’s an actual tradition to help each other out as good buddies habitually do, as per usual. Yeah, that also naturally involves your skillful fingers knuckles deep inside her drooling cunt, sickeningly wet squelch! of your digits fervently being sucked inside by the wet, welcoming heat of her pussy. Like that? Dizzyingly spreading her folds apart, relish in the slick dripping out as if you’re not the byproduct of it to begin with. Precariously squished against the bricked near in an isolated corner within the school yard and, hell— you’re acutely reminded of the possible consequences that may unfortunately come with it, knowing what that shit headmaster does to said students caught misbehaving or plainly fuckin’ on the school’s ground. Does it stop you, however? Fuck no, and neither will Robin’s adorable, feeble whimpers, bouts of ushered protests wistfully sent your way as if you’re not currently, crudely spreading her cheeks apart to display her two, needy holes for your viewing pleasure. Teasingly rubbing along the edges of her slippery cunt to then, promptly fuck her ass raw as a ‘boy’ should take it. What’d ya mean you want your needy, puffy clit rhythmically toyed with while you’re at it?? A real good boy properly takes what he’s given, alright? So, fuckin’ suck it up and keep quiet till then, ‘kay? “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, do you, Robin?”

[azen13]

The Lives and Losses of Lovers

Description: This is actually inspired by a post by @lum1nesc3nce, which you can find here! TLDR: Zhongli x God!Reader, where Zhongli kills his lover but they stay alive. This does have a bit more of a Yandere!Zhongli flavor, though, so be warned!

CW: Yandere Themes, Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Murder, Mild Gore,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The patio is warm, blessed with the touch of the sun’s earliest rays. Already you and Zhongli sit in two comfortable chairs; he sips on tea, you on coffee. It is a scene that has played out a thousand times, yet one Zhongli never tires of. He never tires of seeing your face aglow, of feeling your body leaning against his, of knowing you are here, miraculously breathing life through your bones and skin.

“My dear, I was wondering,” Zhongli starts, his soft contemplative voice shattering the flimsy silence blanketing the porch. “Would you like to accompany me to Liyue Harbor to purchase some groceries?” It is a reward–he thinks as he revels in your surprised reaction–for how understanding you have been in these turbulent times. With the whole mess regarding the Fatui cleared up and a mundane mortal life ahead of him, Zhongli can afford to spend more moments with you in sweet, blissful love.

Perhaps one day it will make up for that vile scene years ago, the moment his heart became stone: your body splayed stunningly on the ground, looking like the most gilded, horrific masterpiece he had ever seen. Painted in sunlit hues, his spearhead sticking from your chest splattered with blood made of molten gold. 

Even nearly dying you looked breathtaking. 

He is still suffering from regret for the decision. At the time, the situation was looking grim; Guizhong and Azhdaha were both gone, leaving you his only close friend. He spent many moonlit nights sharing tea and hushed conversation, as well as tears and heartfelt confessions with you. Zhongli is not the god of words, but just the sight of your iridescent eyes made him want to tell you every trouble and every worry had. You were his most valuable treasure, his lover through and through. Your contract with him, to always stand by side, loyal to one another, made him so weak, so soft, so human.

But that was the issue. Everyone knew of his love, his tender affection; unbecoming of a god who wielded earth and stone as weapons. His life was plagued by phantoms day and night. When he dreamed he envisioned you being kidnapped by some evil god like Osial and being tortured. Killed. Doomed to a fate worse than death, even. In the day, every action you did reminded him of a delicate tree weathering a deluge. Your branches swayed in the intense winds and even the earth couldn’t anchor you.

So he pleaded. He begged you to stay tucked away in his private domain where no great evil could stalk after you, promising to love you for an eternity of eternities. He would love you until every mountain had become a valley. But you refused, saying you wanted to live every facet of life, turning the world like a kaleidoscope in your hands.

The mirrors shifted and the skies turned red.

Those prophecies he had dreamt, uttered to him by ghosts haunting his mind, came true. You were taken away by some pesky, lowly god, and confessed all that you knew. That was fine. Zhongli was made of stone and Cor Lapis, and even if this insignificant insect of a god knew his weaknesses–few as they were–Zhongli eviscerated them.

But the contract.

When the god was sealed away beneath the sea, Zhongli fell to his knees, mouth opened but unable to utter any words.

Zhongli is not the god of words.

It is horribly tragic, he mourns as he stares at your hollow expression, that you must face the wrath of the rock because of a ridiculous choice of words. “To always stand by his side.” You have technically betrayed him.

The earth shakes for weeks afterwards. The sudden freak earthquake is talked about for weeks on end before people move on, as life does. Zhongli does not. His memory of you remains petrified, his new specter. He will never truly love again for thousands of years. Every time he is reminded of you, a piece of his heart chips away

But then you came back. 

That day is amber, crystallized in his mind. Seeing you in the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, so lost after centuries away from home. At that moment, Zhongli decides he will not make the same mistake twice. He would have preferred more time to draw you in carefully, but he is afraid now. Afraid that some hideous twist of fate will rip you from him again. So he whisks you away to his private domain, and drafts up a new contract, binding you to him in matrimony forever. 

Please forgive him, he begs after you sign the contract in gold, tears dripping down your cheeks. He only wishes to protect you; he has always wished to protect you. But the world is cruel to lovers, and not even the strong can uphold such a delicate thing. 

In Zhongli’s private domain, wicked things like time and fate are nonexistent. Zhongli is the only god that rules these lands. He is a benevolent god, if a little possessive. After being deprived of you for so long, he craves your presence, he claims. Day and night, he tries to spend every living moment with you. When he cannot, you are ever-present in his mind–a living, breathing thing instead of the dead spirits that once terrorized it for all those years.

Some days you seem despondent, craving room to spread your branches far and wide. But Zhongli simply chuckles and kisses the top of your head; he smells the gentle scent of your shampoo, knowing this is what is best for you. He whispers it quietly, lacing sweet nothings and honeyed words into his voice as he pulls you into his arms. You haven’t tried to fight him on this in years, either. It’s part of the reason why he has proposed going on a  little trip to Liyue Harbor. Perhaps if all goes well, he’ll allow more trips out of the private domain. All supervised by his watchful eye, of course. After a few moments of stunned surprise, you finally have the courage to speak. “I-I’d love to. Thank you, Zhongli,” you say quietly. Zhongli smiles, leaning to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“You are very welcome, my treasure,” he whispers, a hand reaching to cup your face; his thumb reaches to brush your lips tenderly.

He can tell that you are still afraid of him, fearful that he will hurt you again. No matter. One day, Zhongli hopes, you will shed your fear like a caterpillar in chrysalis, and emerge into a glittering world full of Zhongli’s love for you. 

[romanticintheory]

Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.

AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(

also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.

johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)

-

-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.

-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.

-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.

-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).

-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.

-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.

-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.

-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"

-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.

-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.

-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.

-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"

-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"

-"come live with me."

-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.

-"what?"

-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?

-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).

-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.

-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.

-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)

-"you hurt me!"

-"oh, please."

-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.

-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.

-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.

-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.

-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.

-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.

-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).

-"you're injured. you came home late."

-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.

-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.

-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"

-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.

-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.

-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.

-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.

-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.

-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.

-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.

-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"

-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"

-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.

-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.

-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"

-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?

-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.

-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.

-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.

-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).

-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."

-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.

-"it isn't?"

-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"

-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.

-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.

-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.

-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.

-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.

-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.

-"no, just of you."

-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.

-"oh."

-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.

-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.

-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.

-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.

-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.

-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"

-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"

[cannellee]

May I make a comfort request with alpha baji and an omega reader who basically tries to go against their instinct nc they were raised in a household where they were shouted at, belittled and then ramen advantage of when they needed it the most. (During heat siblings would mess with them and fuck with their stuff and when darling got angry, they were ranted to fight and got their ass beat)

Sorry I'd it's a little specific, I'm just having a bad day right now and I guess I want comfort.

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! Baji x omega! Reader

— his reaction to an insecure & traumatised omega s/o.

tw : mention of domestic violence, psychological abuse...

(thank you for requesting🫶🏼, I really wish you get better and that everything's okay for you:( I hope you like it!! angst isn't what I'm best at so I hope it's still okay!)

my masterlist : ☆

you & baji met in a weird way, nobody would have assumed you would end up together.

baji was just so overwhelming, with strong pheromones, strong aura and a presence which subconsciously drew you to him.

and you were just an insecure omega, not as comfortable with your second gender as your counterparts were.

baji knew of your insecurities, that's why he always made sure to remind you of how perfect of an omega you were.

he would scent you every hour of the day, partly to claim you and keep away other alphas, but also to make it clear to you that you were loved. really loved.

coming into baji's life was the best thing to ever happen to you. you lacked so much confidence baji practically had to beg you to go out with him.

dozens of courting gifts were apparently not enough of a sign that he was clearly into you.

still, he was persistent and finally, you got your dream mate.

baji's the best alpha you could hope for. being aware of the way you were treated, he obviously did his best to make you feel safe and comfortable.

but there were days where your mood was worse than usual and baji just wasn't there at the right time to lift your mood up.

so here you were, gobbling up a fist full of pills to suppress your pheromones. your scent, as delicious as baji told you it was, disgusted you and you couldn't help but think about how your family would be way more satisfied if you got rid of it.

so you did. you also messed up your nest, destroying it and spreading the soft items baji precociously scented for you earlier this morning.

you curled up into yourself on your bed, hating your omega instincts for pleading you to get back into your nest, and cried yourself to sleep. it seems it's the only thing you're good for.

when baji came home and didn't immediately detect your strawberry scent, he knew something was wrong.

with his nose scrunched up and eyebrows frowning, he tried hard to smell you but he just couldn't.

when he called you and you didn't answer, he started to get anxious.

cautiously enters the living room and finds an empty bottle of pills, he paused for a second because those were pheromones suppressant your promised him to never use again.

those were bad for your health and baji thought he made sure to throw away all the remaining ones and lecture you to the importance of your well being.

he went to your bedroom, now more worried than ever and when he found you curled up in a ball and the end of the bed he thought he could feel his heart break.

baji quickly connects the dots when he cradles you in his arms and he doesn't even smell a thing coming from you. gently wakes you up and makes sure to let you know you're safe now.

he knows you're very vulnerable in this state, and although he's worried sick and a bit mad you neglected your health like that, he doesn't wish to alarm you any further.

although he can't sense any pheromones emanating from you, he just knows you're distressed and need his presence.

that's why he quickly reorganise your nest, scents everything he can and tucks you inside your poorly made shelter.

you're not fully conscious when his big arms hug your trembling frame, but his scent alone is enough of a relief that you don't even need to open your eyes.

he kisses you softly and makes sure you're as comfortable as one can be, covering you with blankets and letting your head rest against smooth pillows.

he soon spreads his own pheromones, making them sweeter than they normally are to appease you and pull your nose into the crook of his neck, where his scent is the strongest.

by the time you're fully awake, his presence calmed you down enough that you can completely look at him now.

his relief is visible by how his eyes soften when you give him an apologetic smile.

it pains baji to see his omega, the one he swore to protect, so weak and suffering.

he feels like a total failure, not good enough of an alpha for you.

later when you're doing better, he talks things out with you. make you promise once again to reach out to him, no matter when if you're feeling so terrible again.

if only baji could turn back time to shield you from all those people who hurt you, he would. his omega doesn't deserve the pain she's inflicting herself, both mentally and physically.

you're the best omega he could dream of, how could someone ever want to hurt you?

for now he needs to assure you it's totally fine being who you are ; yes you can surround the both of you with your oh so sweet smell, whine and complain about everything, let baji feed you and care for you.

he can be strong for the both of you, that's what he's good at<3

[nothorses]

Hello there, I found on my tl this post presenting a different view on "baeddelism" from the perspective of a trans woman that claims that she was actually there when the og group existed and explains why the word has become somewhat of a transmisogynistic slur. And I wanted to ask you If you might have any thoughs on this reading of the subject matter?

www.tumblr.com/euniexenoblade/741692501713387520/anyways-baeddel-is-a-slur-against-trans-women

I mean, I think there's merit to the idea that calling people "baeddels" when they don't actually claim to be one themselves is at best counterproductive. The term refers less to A General Ideology, and more to a very specific movement- or, more accurately, two unrelated-but-similar movements that happened in the early/mid 2010's.

There's a term for what folks are usually talking about when they call some random trans woman a "baeddel" when she says she believes trans men oppress trans women: "TIRF", or trans-inclusionary radical feminist. It's a term that was coined by people who call themselves by it, and it's a lot more broad & generally useful here. It doesn't come with ties to a group that dissolved because of sexual assault allegations & rape apologism, and it isn't rooted in an Old English slur, which means it's a lot less charged. It's less likely to get people to shut down or laugh your whole point off because of how clear it is that you aren't listening to or engaging in anything they have to say with good faith.

So yes, I agree, calling random people "baeddels" is not in good taste. Don't do it. "TIRF" exists, it's more accurate, and it's less likely to hurt your argument anyway.

That said.

I take issue with the implication that:

a) Baeddels were tiny and utterly non-influential (therefore all references to them at this point are malicious exaggerations and bogeymen), and

b) Everyone self-describing as a "baeddel" today is actually just reclaiming a slur, exactly like people do with "tranny" and "faggot".

Baeddels (on Tumblr; again, there was a "baeddel" movement on Facebook at the time as well, but it was unrelated and ideologically distinct) were not so small that they had no impact, and to characterize them as widely unpopular- or, worse, influential only in that everyone hated them so much that alt-right bigots immediately revived "baeddel"s original meaning as a slur to in order to victimize all trans women- should immediately ping some alarm bells.

Baeddelism's core ideology centered around the idea that trans women are the most oppressed group, that transmisogyny is the root of all oppression, that trans women are always victimized, never safe, never understood, except around and by exclusively other trans women. This sucks, because there is very real oppression and trauma being preyed on here; trans women are encouraged to be paranoid and distrustful of anyone different from them, and their own experiences with oppression are weaponized against them in order to do so. This should remind you of the recruitment tactics cis radfems use.

That aside, there are some places where baeddelism's influence has been documented: @baeddel-txt is one example. Note that a lot of the posts archived there are recent. Here's one of the original crew, still active and spewing the same shit. Baeddelism has been experiencing something of a renaissance in recent years, too. Here's one of the original (ex-)baeddels talking about it as recently as 2021.

This is not "reclaiming a slur", these people are referring very explicitly to the original ideology & the desire, or observed desire, for that same movement to be brought back in the present day.

Does that make every TIRF-y trans woman a baeddel?

No!

But it is incredibly, and suspiciously disingenuous to deny the harm they caused, the influence they had, and the admiration people still hold for their ideology. And it is downright ahistorical to claim that the term is now, or was at the time that the group was most popular, used genuinely as a slur (sources, I am begging you).

Do not call people "baeddels" unless they're claiming the word for themselves. Do not allow anyone to make you think, even for a moment, that transfeminine people are The Enemy; they do not oppress us, they do not benefit from our oppression, and the vast majority of them are not interested in any kind of lateral violence against us in the first place. They are our allies. Do not forget that they are our allies.

Forgetting that trans people are each other's best allies is what lead to baeddelism in the first place. We need each other. Things can only improve for any of us if we fight for each other. Don't let resentment sabotage you- or hurt our trans siblings.