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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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Finders Keepers

"Do not forget that the new groundskeeper is scheduled to arrive today at noon. I expect everyone to be courteous and to clean up their nighttime rubbish before his arrival," Alfred reminds them as they struggle to sit through breakfast.

Last night's patrol was brutal, and everyone was a bit bruised up and sore, not to mention that most only got an hour or so of sleep.

They collectively groan- except for Bruce and Damian, but neither count as full humans anyway, no matter what their DNA says otherwise.

Tim, in particular, is rubbing his hands down his face. "But Alfred, today's my only day off for the next six weeks!"

"I fail to see how your poor time management will change the outcome of doing your chores, Master Tim," The butler states. Tim cowards instantly at the sight of that arched brow on his grandfather's face and melts into his seat.

Pleased, Alfred taps his wristwatch. "You all have three hours. Better get to it."

They scatter. Bruce runs to his office to clean up all his paperwork, knowing some purchases were not Wayne Industries. Jason hits the multiple garages to ensure nothing bat-related is thrown in the toolboxes.

Dick is swinging by the handlers, taping his hands along the beams and pulling out hidden gadgets. Cass and Duke are walking on the roofs, double-checking the boobytraps.

Steph and Damian have offered to patrol the Batcave and the connecting tunnels to ensure the motion sensors are active.

Tim is told to walk along the property and make sure no surprise holes will appear. Bruce fell into the cave system when he was young, so the new groundskeeper might have the same fate. It's the more leisurely job since Bruce obsessively checks since it happened, but they all know Tim can barely keep his eyes open.

Tim doesn't mind because he must pat his bo staff on the ground, stomping his foot ever so often and scanning the environment with his wrist computer. He doesn't even bother to change out of his pajamas- an old pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt Kon lent him when he once slept over and never returned. It's mostly just a walk, but it feels like an entirety to his sleep-deprived mind.

His eyelids are heavier than usual, every blink feels like a bag of sand, and he still has to check at least three-thirds of the Wayne Manor grounds.

He is wandering towards the east side of the property when he finds a very convenient bush shaped perfectly to block the sun and offer him a tiny nooch to snuggle into.

He glances back at the house and then at the time on his wrist computer. He has two hours and twenty minutes before the groundskeeper arrives.

"One short nap," Tim mutters, getting on his hands and knees to crawl into the bush. He twists to lie on his back, using his jacket as a pillow. His whole body fits inside, so Alfred will likely not catch him. The scrub is soft, and Tim relaxes into his protective shade. "I'll get up in a bit."

The wind blowing through the trees and the bushes around him lures him to sleep.

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"Hey"

A voice cuts through his dream of jumping over the city, chasing after his family but maskless. They weren't running around the roofs fighting a good fight; the Waynes in his dream were just spending time together. Laughing. Goodnaturely teasing.

It's wonderful.

It's everything he's ever wanted.

It's slowly disappearing as he is coming back to consciousness.

Tim groans, trying to roll over and return to the dream, but the voice speaks again. "Hey, man, you can't sleep here."

A hand clamps on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Tim mutters, weakly swapping it away. "No. No. No."

"Come one, man, I can't have the big boss see you. It's my first day, and I don't want to get fired because I let some guy sleep in his yard." The voice continues, sounding pleasing and guilty.

Tim whimpers, rubbing his face against the cold hard ground. "No. No. No. Please, I just want to sleep. I'm not hurting anybody."

"Ancients....okay. Okay. Listen, I will let you sleep a little longer while I work. I'll finish mowing the yards and trim all the bushes. That should be at least five hours. I must move you if you're still here when I return."

Tim doesn't answer, too busy slipping back into his sleep as a hand gently runs through his hair. He snuggles into the warm palm with a sigh.

Someone gulps. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

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

Tim snaps his eyes open to see that everything is pitch dark. Oh crude!

How long has he been asleep? What time is it? Was Alfred going to kill him!? What was he thinking?

Of course, Alfred would kill him, and unlike Jason or Damiman, the elder would not fail. In fact, from what Tim could make out in the darkness, a man was standing over him wearing white gloves.

He found me! Tim thinks historically. I didn't even have time to run!

The white gloves move closer as if they were going to touch him. He leaps up with a scream, and a man falls over.

"Woah! Woah! Hey, it's okay, I'm not a cop!" The stranger- not Alfred- shouts. Tim pauses, then lets out a louder scream. The man rushes forward to slam his hands against Tim's mouth.

He glances frantically at the manor- it's too far away to see anyone since Tim chose to nap at the very edge of the vast land Bruce's ancestors purchased.- before hissing. "Could you keep it down? Look, I let you sleep long enough; you must move."

Tim blinks owlish at him. His mind is fuzzy- shit, was he hit with something last night? He couldn't remember.- but he thinks he knows him.

Dark Hair.

Blue Eyes.

Pretty facial features.

Oh, it's one of his brothers. Dick? Yeah, it's Dick. Has to be. Tim is sure. He can't think clearly now, but he knows his eldest brother. This guy has the same color eyes. It's him.

Does Dick know he is Tim's brother? Does he know who he is?

"Dick," He tells the man in jeans overalls, just in case he forgets his name. His brother frowns.

"I know. I hate to do it, okay? But you can't sleep here."

"I can't?"

"No, dude."

"Where can I sleep?"

Dick sighs. "I think there is a shelter that-"

"Take me home."

Dick pauses, taken aback. "What?"

Tim leans forward, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "I'm tired. I want to go home."

"Where do you live? Is there someone I can contact for you?" Dick asks in high pitched voice, seemingly uncomfortable by Tim's closeness but too bad. Tim never gets enough hugs, so he must deal with it because he wants hugs now.

"No, I want to go home with you!" He whines, and the world starts to spin. Quickly closing his eyes against the nausea, Tim tries to hide further into Dick's shoulder. "Take me home with you."

Dick is quiet for a long moment before he slumps. Carefully, he reaches up to pet Tim's hair, and it's so comforting that he almost falls back to sleep. "I'm going to regret this, but something in my core tells me to do what you say. You wouldn't happen to know a Clockwork, would you?"

Tim shakes his head.

"Right. Okay, taking a homeless stranger I found in the Waynor Manor bushes. Seems on-brand to me. Let's go."

Tim follows.

Who was he following? He doesn't remember, but when he climbs into a van with the words "Phantom Groundskeeping," he doesn't feel worried.

In fact, once he's buckled in, head leaning against the window and pulling his legs up to his chest, he feels oddly protected. The driver of the van is also beautiful.

Like wow. Talk about a work of art.

"I love you," He tells the man, who laughs, flickering blue sad eyes at him.

"Thanks. Take a nap. I think you should sleep off whatever your on and then I can get you some help."

"Do you love me too?"

"....sure. Go to sleep now."

"Will I die?"

"What?"

Tim can feel the word fading away, which is terrible; he knows it is but can't remember why. He just knows that when it disappears, he'll never wake up again. He tells the stranger as such, voice just barely above a whisper.

Glowing green eyes snap to him in alarm, and a small breath of blue leaves the stranger's mouth. Tim thinks he's slowly gaining a hint of horror, but his body begs him to sleep.

Tim blinks once, then twice, as the stranger's mouth opens and closes before he snaps his eyes to the road. "What a time to go mad."

The diver's grip on his steering wheel tightens, but Tim can barely keep his eyes open, so he can't see the gorgeous stranger's face as he whispers. "No. I won't let you die. Just....just sleep, okay? I'll figure it out."

Tim does.

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"Crap!" Jason yells, running up the stairs from the Batcave. In his hand are the test results for the standard toxicity screening they all undergo whenever they fight someone who even remotely deals with drugs.

Everyone was too tired to look at them properly, which means they all missed that Tim's blood was covered in what looked like a blend of Poison Ivy's love pollen and some kind of sleep-inducing strain.

Tim is out there, somewhere tripping balls or cuddling up to a stranger or unconscious, slowly slipping into a coma. They all thought he bailed on his work and deserved a day off so no one bothered to go after him.

Now Tim could be dead.

He rounds the large hall, his stomping footsteps barely covering the sounds of Alfred's smooth voice.

"It seems the groundskeeper is asking for a week off already. He just got married and-"

"Crap! Crap! Crap! Bruce!" He shouts, slamming the door of his dad's office open. His grandfather and father both turn sharply to him, and neither misses the paper that Jason throws. Their eyes widen in horror when they read what's on the report. "We need to find Tim!"

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Jazz wakes to find a half-dressed stranger curled around Danny, a ghost contract with drying blood on the ground, and a hastily made banner that reads "Happy Elopement!" thrown on the wall.

The living room looks like a confetti bomb went off in it. Did she miss a party being hosted in her own house? While sleeping in the room next door?

Johnny- her ex and surprisingly good friend after he stop bothering her brother- is sitting cross-legged, eyes glued on the TV.

"What. The. Fuck." Jazz asks, walking over to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Johnny replies without so much as turning around. Since Jazz helped plan his and Kitty's wedding, the ghost becomes a brother to the Fentons. "Danny eloped."

"I figured as much by the banner." She mutters, walking over to the couch his brother and her new brother-in-law occupy. She stares at the stranger. He looked....familiar?

"Yeah, don't know all the details, but I guess his hubby was dying, so Danny pulled a Ghost King contract out of his ass and saved him by passing on his healing factor after they were hitched," Johnny says. Jazz takes a sip of her coffee. "I think he thinks he can divorce him or something. But till death due us part doesn't apply to Halfas. They're married forever, even in life or death."

"Shit." Jazz sighs. "Danny got himself into another situation. And he was doing so well recently, too. Became a groundskeeper for the Waynes and everything."

"Waynes pay well?"

"Danny could have paid off my student loans in four paychecks."

"Damn." Johnny whistles. Just then, Kitty floats through the wall wearing a red bathing robe. Jazz will never get used to the fact ghosts could look so human in the morning, with their messy hair and dazed expression. "Morning, babe."

"Morning," Kitty mumbles, leaning down to kiss Johnny. She glances at Danny and smiles. "They're so cute. I'm so happy Danny found his Core Mate."

"Core Mate?" Jazz asks.

"Like a soulmate but more dead," Kitty explains. "They are scarce to find, but once your core finds what it wants, it's fated. That's probably why Danny married so quickly, even if it was to save a life he normally wouldn't have."

Jazz looks back at the boy wrapped around in Danny's arms. Her brother is holding him like he's the most precious thing in either world, even in his sleep, and she knows that no matter what she or anyone says, he's not going to give up- wait a minute.

The stranger moves slightly in his sleep, snuggling up against Danny more, and his hair falls out of his face.

Shit.

"That's Tim Drake. Danny stole away Tim Drake." She deadpans. "Danny went over to cut Bruce Wayne's yard and returned with his son to elop with."

"In one afternoon? I'm impressed." Johnny laughs. "He really said all services included."

"Don't be gross, Johnny," Kitty scolds, but she's smiling. Jazz just shakes her head, reaching down for the contract. She may as well read what kind of dead-brain idea her baby brother got involved with this time.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Finders Keepers #dead tired #trigger warning: Druged #Tim get hit with Poison Ivy's pollen #Different Povs #Danny was just trying to do his job #Tim was just trying to nap #Now they married #Danny did in fact think he could marry him pass along his powers though the marriage then divorcé him #Kitty and Johnny are the friends always staying over and munching off your coffee

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radiocrypt-id · 4 months

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The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #dimension 20 fhjy #dimension 20 fantasy high #d20 fantasy high #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #d20 spoilers #d20 fhjy #d20 #kristen applebees #figeroth faeth #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #somebody help these kids man #they're being failed by the system #words

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jasongracesluvr · 4 months

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MY PJO/HOO HCS !!

Leo has those big ass Mexican blankets with the graphics YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT. THE ONES WITH THE ANIMALS AND OCCASIONALLY FLOWERS AND THEYRE BIG AND HEAVY AND MADE OF FLEECE!!!!! (I’m saying this because I have those and literally everybody I know and everybody in my family has at least one.) AND HE CAN NEVER GO A NIGHT WITHOUT IT BECAUSE IT WAS HIS MOM’S AND HE HAD IT EVER SINCE HE WAS A BABY 😭😭😭

Piper threw a water bottle at Leo at the wilderness school after a fight and she got in trouble, but Leo defended her saying he deserved it anyway because he was a dick and that’s how they became friends AND SHE FR WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Jason is always cold and Leo got him one of the big thick blankets and it has wolves on it :) AND HE USES IT EVERY NIGHT AND HE CANT SLEEP WITHOUT IT AND AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE JASON 😭😭😭😭

PERCY CARRIES AROUND PADS AND TAMPONS BECAUSE SALLY TAUGHT HIM WELL AND HE ALWAYS PROVIDES IT FOR ANYONE WHO NEEDS IT. I LOVE THIS MAN.

Hazel is a CUDDLER. NO MATTER WHO IT IS SHE IS ALWAYS GOING TO BE PHYSICALLY AFFECTIONATE WITH SOMEBODY (as long as they’re comfortable with it ofc.) SHE LOVES HER FRIENDS AND ABSOLUTELY LOVES TO BE BY THEIR SIDE !!!!!!!!

Whenever somebody feels sad, Frank always turns into their favorite animal and gives them cuddles. PIPER WAS SAD ONCE AND HE TURNED INTO A PARAKEET AND SANG A LITTLE MELODY WITH HIS LITTLE PARAKEET TWEETS ☹️☹️☹️ HAZEL WAS SAD AND HE TURNED INTO A HORSE AND NUZZLED HER 😭😭😭 I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT THIS

Annabeth is definitely the friend who worries most about everybody’s well beings but refuses to take care of herself. “Piper, put a sweater on, you’re gonna catch a cold!” And she’s wearing shorts in December. “Leo, stop overworking yourself at the forge! You need rest!” And she’s been up for four days straight. “Percy, stop trying to skateboard off of the climbing wall! You’ll get hurt!” AND SHE LITERALLY SWORDFIGHTS WITH THREE PEOPLE AT THE SAME TIME IN THE ARENA WITH NO ARMOR ON. She’s so cool man

Reyna and Leo have full blown conversations in Spanish, and Nico joins in because he can somewhat understand some words (because Italian is somewhat similar to Spanish). Thalia, Jason, and Will find it so cool but they desperately want to know what they’re saying. (They talk about how cool and awesome their partners are)

Will picked up a bit of Italian for Nico :DDDD

Nico teaches him Italian (he taught him curse words first)

Jason and Leo are in love and actually they are living together (I’m a valgrace truther)

Leo constantly curses in Spanish

Hazel doesn’t curse much but the one time she did it sounded absolutely sweet because of her transatlantic accent

Did I mention she has a transatlantic accent that mixes perfectly with her Louisiana Accent

Nico curses in Italian

Reyna curses in Latin and Spanish

Jason curses in Latin

Frank curses in Mandarin and French

Percy makes dolphin noises

Annabeth curses in Ancient Greek (canon)

Piper’s grandfather taught her Cherokee, but she learned the curse words by herself

Piper knows taekwondo

Jason constantly cuddles with Leo when they sleep, and Leo loves the feeling of being in Jason’s arms :)))))

Reyna gives piggyback rides to Nico

Leo boops Jason’s nose whenever he sees that Jason is grumpy

Jason scowls at it but he’s lying if he says that he hates it

Jason loves to melt into Leo’s arms after a long day

Leo loves it when Jason plays with his hair

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hxyleswritesthings · 1 year

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Poly!KiriBaku Headcanons

Author's note: Just some little things on what domestic life is like with these two beefcakes. Enjoy!

- Bakugou and Kirishima are the exact opposite in the morning. More often than not, Kiri sleeps in as late as possible, but he wakes up cheery. Bakugou, on the other hand, is usually the first one up every single morning but he's liability to be around for at least the first hour he's awake.

- You are the classic grumpy morning person. As long as the guys are home, they're usually the ones to wake you up in the morning, and they both know to give you space until you've finished your first cup of coffee.

- As the first one up, Bakugou likes to shower first and make coffee for the three of you before you part ways. If he has the time, he likes to go on a quick morning run/walk and grab pastries from the bakery around the corner.

- On the rare occasion that you do wake up on time, you like to make a quick breakfast for the three of you to eat, packing them both bentos for lunch as well.

- There was one time Kiri walked in to the kitchen, following the smell of breakfast and coffee, only to find you bent over the kitchen counter, practically drooling as Bakugou relentlessly pounds into you, taking out his bad mood. Bakugou just grins at the redhead when he looks up to find him staring, not missing a beat as he reaches around to thumb at your clit until you're begging for release, thighs shaking as you gush on his cock. Bakugou's not far behind, grunting as he pulls your hips back against him to fill you up, grip hard enough to leave bruises. Kirishima just watches the whole thing over his coffee cup, pants feeling tight from where he sits at the dining table.

- You're weak now, Bakugou's arm the only thing keeping you up as he gives you both a moment to breath before he's slipping out of you and pulling his pants back up. head leaning on the table as bakugou keeps you standing, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he's slipping out of you and pulling his pants of his hero suit back up and tucking himself away. He leans down to pull your leggings up as well, silent as he scoops you up and dumps you in a chair next to Kirishima, serving you both a heaping plate of eggs.

- You're a little dazed from the events of the morning, whining as you get placed down before crawling into Kirishima's lap in need of affection.

- The three of you rarely have any serious fights, but due to his temper and your stubbornness it's not unusual for you and Bakugou to bicker. You love each other dearly, but you've been known to butt heads over the smallest things. It rarely ever gets out of hand. Most of the time one of you breaks pretty quickly and you both laugh it off and move on.

- This courtesy does not extend to game night. You and Katsuki are known for full on screaming at each other and making Eiji play referee to whatever the nights chosen game was.

- You never let Katsuki live it down when you absolutely crush him in Mario Kart.

- I hc that as he gets older, Kiri starts growing his hair out more and he looovesss to sit between your legs and let you play with and braid his hair.

- Bakugou's not big on you playing with his hair but sometimes he does let you paint his nails a solid black, claiming it looks good with his hero suit.

- With them being busy pro heros, getting everyone's schedules to align can be difficult, but you make it a goal for all three of you to sit down for dinner together at least once a week. Most of the other nights, it's usually you with either one of them, or you don't even have dinner together at all.

- Bakugou's not much of a partier, so he's usually the DD when y'all go out with your friends. He does enjoy a drink or two on the nights he's not too tired to stay up after work. When you guys host, it becomes Kirishima's personal mission to get him absolutely /trashed/.

- Bakugou becomes VERY clingy when he drinks and he opens up in a way his friends don't usually get to see. You find it quite endearing.

- Before the three of you formally announced your relationship to your group of friends, everyone could tell with how handsy he was with Kiri. Everything finally came to a head once Shoto walked in on them making out in the hallway. He came back, nervous to tell you how he had caught your boyfriend's infidelity, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter when the blonde in question came back into the room, Kiri in tow, both of their faces bright red at being caught.

- It took your friends no time to warm up to the idea, Mina jumping up with a squeal and shouting at how Denki now owed her money from a bet.

- At night, you guy switch between the two bedrooms depending on the mood. Bakugou's bed is bigger, but there's something extra cozy about how many pillows Kiri keeps.

- The three of you are just a bunch of grown up kids who love each other very much and are doing their best to navigate life together :’)

#bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kirishima fluff #poly!kiribaku #kiribaku x you #kiribaku x y/n #kiribaku x reader #eijirou fluff #katsuki fluff #bakugou smut #mha smut #mha fluff #kirishima smut

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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

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FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you.

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day.

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that.

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open.

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.)

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?”

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to.

God, that man was a dick.

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle.

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive.

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van.

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up.

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him.

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep?

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers.

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads.

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable.

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath.

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him?

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck.

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him.

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars.

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good.

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were.

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.”

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth.

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.”

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors.

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.”

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you.

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually.

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns.

Nope. Not a chance.

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned.

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning.

—

It doesn’t.

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day.

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together.

God, he sort of hated you.

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice.

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression.

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it.

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip.

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them.

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him.

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John.

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you.

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.”

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset.

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you.

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?”

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.”

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin.

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him.

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable.

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store.

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural.

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear.

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk.

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?”

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?”

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here.

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.”

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace.

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.”

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.”

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.”

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point.

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.”

Trainer?

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with.

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say.

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it.

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back.

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle.

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?”

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye.

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice.

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.”

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole.

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two.

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could.

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance.

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.”

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest?

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed.

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him.

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together.

God, Eddie wishes he hated you.

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

(tag list is open - if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

#my writing #coffee shop blues #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #barista!eddie munson #this is what i do with my free time before and after work #and on my breaks lol #makes the grind more bearable #we needed some fluff #can i come out of jail now?

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0oolookitsme · 3 months

Text

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

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With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all.

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard.

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone.

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal.

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there.

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap.

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping.

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief.

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze.

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #footballer!harry #frat boy!harry #harry styles fic

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freyito · 3 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ + ᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ

✧ a/n: hi. hey. hello. guess what time it is. ANYWAYS. this ones for the bad bitches (gn) with uteruses who have a vendetta against them. i see you and i hear you and you are NOT alone (no geras on this one i genuinely couldn't think of anything for him srry)

🗒 cw: afab reader but gn terms (if any?), period talk, some of these i wrote with 3 days of no sleep so, not proofread

✎ wc: 2136

⎯Liu Kang

You'd think for the man that shaped the universe, he'd at LEAST think about getting rid of that week of hell. Just kidding. But when you joke about it with Liu Kang, he sincerely apologizes. With his full heart.

But, god, is he attentive. He’s gentle with you, like you’ll break at the slightest touch. Which you assure him you won’t. He gets you some ginger tea (or green if you don’t like ginger tea). He essentially condemns you to your bed (sorta) the entire week, he doesn’t want you putting any strain on yourself. Liu Kang will get you ANYTHING you ask of him, absolutely anything.

⎯ Bi-Han

Sure, Bi-Han can be rude sometimes, and he’s a damn workaholic. But I believe he would incorporate a menstrual leave within the Lin Kuei. Granted, he’s normally stressed as hell, but he doesn’t want any of his subordinates to even train under that stress. So he treats you with such tenderness unfitting from a man of his stature. He cares.

He kind of has a checklist he goes through when you’re on your period. Pads, tampons, tea, painkillers, water, tea, anything and everything, especially for the pain. He’ll get you snacks, as long as they aren’t too salty or sweet. Bi-Han doesn’t like to ‘gatekeep’ food from you, but he is worried that something too unhealthy will make your cramps worse.

⎯ Kuai Liang

We all know Kuai is rather attentive. While he can’t necessarily be empathetic, he’s sympathetic. Any little wince you make, he worries over. Doesn’t matter if your cramps are a 3 or a 10. He’s concerned over every little thing, every complaint you make he takes seriously. Even if it’s just a joke plea, asking him to make it stop.

But, seriously. Ask him, and he will do his best. He’s already got all sorts of pads, tampons, and cups. At least three different brands, too. He prepares like it’s doomsday. He has all your comfort foods stocked, and ingredients if it requires cooking. Who needs a heating pad when you have Kuai Liang, though? If you don’t mind, he’ll lay right on top of you, and warm himself up.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Holy shit, you don’t even need a tracker with Johnny. He KNOWS. It’s a little scary. But by god, does he prepare. Snacks? Check. Everything sweet, savory, spicy, anything you want. If you want nothing other than takeout for the week? He can handle it, his wallet won’t hurt a bit. Chores? Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. He’s got them covered for the week. He practically leaps at the chance to take care of you, even if you argue that it isn’t that bad.

Before you even start, Johnny’s massaging you. Trying to make you feel better. And somehow, he’s made the bed feel all fluffy and soft, the pillows have never been so perfect (except last month), and you feel like you can sleep easily during shark week. He spoils you during your period, too. Anything to lighten your mood. Silly little gifts, cute stuffed animals, the sweetest things that could make your teeth ache. He can’t say no to you, or whatever you ask.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Much like Johnny, Kenshi catches your period before you do. It’s not telepathy, no, it’s the fact that somehow, your movements become a little bit more stiff, and you’re just a little bit sluggish. He treats you to a nice little dinner the day before, so you’re well-fed and hopefully have energy to deal with the start of the week.

And when the cramps inevitably start that night, when you get back from the bathroom, he rolls right over and pulls you into a hug. Before you fall asleep, he massages your lower back and waist. Kenshi makes sure there are fresh, clean, and warm sheets almost every night. Something to snack on, some water– in fact, he pushes water pretty damn hard for shark week– and a good amount of emotional support. As much as he can, he will do.

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao is admittedly a little lost– at least at the start of the relationship. He does all he can, and needs just a little guidance. Tell him directly what you need or want and he’s running off to get it. But, with a couple months, he’s gotten into the swing of things. All sorts of snacks stocked up, heating pads galore, and like seven different boxes of product.

The thing he goes straight to is, of course, Madam Bo’s food. He finds her food to be a great comfort, and hopes it will be the same. It’s hearty, so damn good, and hot. He’ll run to her place and back to yours every day if you want. Is it an excuse to get some for himself? No. Seriously. He’s hoping that it can help, even if it’s a little.

⎯ Raiden

Raiden is the sweetest thing. He dotes on you normally, but when you’re sick, it’s even more. And he does the same when you’re on your period. He coddles you, essentially. But not in a childish way, no. It’s just, any time you wince or groan or complain, he’s asking what you need, if you want space, if you want him to help, massage you, whatever.

All sorts of soups and teas are made, he’s got painkillers at the ready, and he’s still scavenging for ways to make you more comfortable. As much as he wants you to stay in bed, he still wants you to get some exercise, because he hopes moving will help a bit. He won’t force you to, but he ‘strongly recommends’ it.

⎯ Zeffeero

Rain is surprisingly cuddly during your shark week. To him, it’s more about making you feel better than anything. Not that he can’t be cuddly, but physical affection isn’t normally his go-to. His normally royal and guarded exterior comes crashing down when he sees you, but more-so during your period.

Any free time he has, he’s got his arms around you, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. Even when you complain. It’s the pressure that he focuses on– which, on that note, he has like ten different weighted blankets. Take your pick, he won’t mind which one you use. Zeffeero makes sure you’re comfortable, treats you like royalty, really. If you want (as much as he wants to stay next to you and cuddle up to you), he’ll sleep elsewhere. All the chores? Done. Especially if your period wipes you out.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Tomas might go a little overboard when you’re on your period. Any time he can manage, he worms his way into your arms, treats you like true royalty. I mean like the whole package. Carries you everywhere, makes you whatever you want or request. Even if you mention it in passing, he’ll bring it to you. He doesn’t pass up the opportunity to pamper you, ever.

His main go-to is fresh baked goods. He’s a pretty damn good baker. If you’re okay with it, he tends to sorta drag you along with him anywhere in the house, as if the minute he takes his eyes off you, the cramps will get worse. But, if you want space, that’s okay, too! And don’t worry about laundry, dishes, anything. He makes sure you have a clean and fresh environment, to at least make your mental health feel a little better. Tomas has a routine, really. Cuddle up to you in your sleep, massage at your hips, make sure you have a heating pad by you and some water on the bedside table for the morning, and then he gets right to cooking before you even wake up.

⎯ Baraka

Oh, how Baraka wishes he could essentially smother you, hold you, do whatever he can physically to take away the pain of the cramps, and just reassure you. But he is blocked by his affliction, and the fear of himself. Regardless, he’s a little bit more clingy. In his own way.

He’s got a survival kit, essentially. Pads, tampons, cups, painkillers, painkillers, snacks and takeout almost every day, fresh clothes and clean sheets every morning. He knows what he’s doing. Baraka has an entire water jug by the bed, heating pad on standby, and one of your favorite snacks, as well. He tries to treat you the best he can, by some fancy food he was able to get at the market, or maybe a little gift.

⎯ Syzoth

Syzoth is also pretty clingy during your period. Considering his favorite past-time is wrapping himself around you, he works like a walking weighted blanket. He’s kind of hard to shoo away, cause he’s just so worried over you.

While most of his support and comfort comes from pressure and cuddles and all, he practically jumps at the idea of getting you your comfort food or just snacks. Something to tide you over. It satisfies a kind of primal urge within him, like hunting down food. Even if it’s just walking down the market and grabbing a couple of things.

⎯ Havik

Havik's a "what size pussy you wear" kinda guy. I apologize. In his pursuit for total anarchy, some things ended up lost on him. It’s not that he doesn’t know, it’s that sometimes the thought of his partner having a period evades him.

With some convincing though he’ll get you what you ask for. Sort of. He’s not necessarily welcomed in Sun Do or many Outworld cities due to his… reputation. But somehow, he manages to get you a couple snacks, painkillers, and pads or tampons (whichever you asked for), surprisingly! Just don’t ask how he got it. And don’t ask why his bounty was raised the next time you enter town.

⎯ General Shao

Shao wants to stay at home with you during shark week. He would, if he could. He wants to make sure you’re all comfy and secure and okay. He insists on changing the sheets the night before, because he believes it’s the very least he could do.

He will leave you little notes and try and make you some breakfast before he leaves, though. He focuses on the little things, because that’s all he feels he can do. And when he comes home, he’s more focused on you. Could care less if he’s injured, or just had a hard day. No matter how tired he is, he’ll find a way to try and massage and try and ease your pain. Half the time it’s done on instinct, he’ll be half-asleep, muttering something incoherent, running his hands down your back and massaging at the knots in the small of your back.

⎯ Shang Tsung

If you thought Shang Tsung couldn’t get anymore sappy… you’re WRONG. He becomes horrifyingly sweet, whenever you're sick or on your period. The minute you curl up or complain he’s on you, pampering you, saying stupid, sassy things like ‘awh, my love’. But he doesn’t do it to belittle you. He says it in a joking manner, because he wants to distract you. Laughter is the best medicine… or something.

The thing about Shang Tsung is that when he falls in love, he falls hard. And he (not so) secretly wants to pamper and spoil and treat you like royalty. And when you show any amount of hurt, even if you just make a face, he’s at your beck and call. You don’t even have to say a full word, he’s already got whatever you’ve said. He mainly showers you in gifts, because he really does want to try and distract you as I said. But he’s more than fine with simply sitting by and letting you complain, too. He kinda eggs you on, like hell yeah, take that verbal abuse, uterus!

⎯ Reiko

Reiko’s head of heels for you. And he melts in your hands. He’s a little bit prideful, so sometimes he tends to restrain himself around you. But, when you’re hurt in any sort of way, those walls fall instantly. He’s all over you, asking what you need, checking in on you almost every hour on the dot (when he can), and massages. So. Many. Massages.

He’ll return home from work, with some sort of treat for you, and beeline straight for the bed (or the couch, or wherever you are), and just curls up right behind you. He won’t say anything, but his hands will wander, massage around your waist, rub circles below your stomach, that kind of thing. He just hides his face in the crook of your neck and does whatever he can to ease your pain. Reiko isn’t really good with words, and it takes him some time to get used to what you like and your favorite foods to help. But, he’s very confident in his strength, and with that,– especially with his training– he’s pretty confident on the body and just enough pressure to apply to ease your aching body.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Cross to Bear

Summary: A certain monk catches the attention of a woman that Uhtred and his men are gracious enough to rescue. Based on this request. Warnings: Brief mentions of cancer, illness, death, abuse and alcoholism. Slight angst. Eventual smut. Word count: ~3.4k

She is sixteen when her mother passes away from the lump in her breast. She cannot grieve. There is no one left to shield her or her younger sister from the beatings that their father is eager to dish out each evening when he stumbles home from the tavern, drunk and stinking of ale. They make the decision to leave, taking their chances out in the world.

The life of a vagrant is hard, but the exhilaration that is found in freedom is simply unmatched. On bad days, she is forced to share her body with strange men in exchange for coin to ensure her and her sister have enough to eat. On good days, they pick wildflowers in the warmth of the sunshine, and at night tell stories as they cuddle up together beneath the stars. They never remain in a single place for long, always moving, always searching for somewhere to call home.

She is eighteen when her sister develops a fever. She soaks rags in a stream to cool the scorching heat of her skin, allows her to drain their waterskin dry without complaint, and rubs her back as the persistent coughing denies her sleep. Within three days her sister is too weak to travel any further. They have been sheltering in dense woodland and are at least a day’s walk from the nearest town, so she cannot go to get help, she cannot risk leaving her alone in the open for so long. She has no choice but to sit and watch her deteriorate, providing what little comfort she can. By the next morning she is gone.

Upon waking to the feel of her sister cold beside her, she finally allows herself to weep. The ache in her chest that she has held at bay for the last two years finally breaches forth, blooming painfully through the expanse of her heart. She cries for the loss of her mother, for the loss of the only friend she had in her sibling and for how utterly lost she feels. Long after her tears have subsided she remains hunched over the body, consumed by her grief.

“If it is fever you must burn the body.”

She has no idea how much time has passed as she has laid there mourning, but the voice startles her out of her stupor and she looks up to see four men on horseback looming over her. She hadn’t even heard them approach.

They look to be mercenaries, all of them wear light armor and carry swords. The man that has addressed her has long dark hair and is brutish looking. One of his travel companions is bearded and surly, while another has a half shaved head; the Mjölnir around his neck indicates he is a Pagan. Ordinarily, she would be fearful in the face of such intimidating looking men, and assume they mean her harm, however, there is something about the fourth man that eases her mind and assures her she is in no danger. He has soft blue eyes and a kind face that wears an expression that suggests he is more afraid of her than she is of him.

“I-I cannot. I am alone.” She confesses, her voice hoarse from her earlier sobs.

“Then you will allow us to help you.” The long haired man insists, climbing down from his horse.

She learns their names are Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth. They carry her sister’s body to a clearing and she stands solemnly, numbness settling over her, as she watches it burn.

“Who was she to you?” Finan enquires gently.

“My sister, my only friend, all that I had left.” She doesn’t attempt to hide her despair, she does not have the strength.

“We should say a prayer.” Osferth offers, his voice soft and full of sympathy.

She has never been particularly religious. What kind of a God would allow her to endure all she has been through and think it just? But she finds comfort in his orison, joining in with the “amen” that he finishes with.

“What will you do now?” Finan asks her.

“Truly, I do not know. I have nowhere to go and no one to go with.”

“You can join us.” Uhtred steps forward, eyeing the rest of the group as they all nod their affirmation.

“I have nothing to offer you.” She says, her cheeks flush with shame.

“Neither do we.” Quips Sihtric with a wry smile.

“Then it’s settled.” Finan decides, clapping Osferth on the back. “Baby Monk, she rides with you, you’re scrawny enough that your horse can carry both of you without any trouble.”

When Osferth discovers that she has never ridden on horseback before, he suggests that she rides up front with him behind her, so he can ensure she doesn’t slip off.

He helps her into the saddle and then climbs on after her. Her heart hammers in her chest as he puts his arms around her waist to take hold of the reins. She can feel his leather breastplate pressed against her back. Being in such close proximity to him causes her breathing to quicken and she stays rigid as they set off at a leisurely trot, afraid that he may feel the reaction she is having to him.

“My lady, please relax, or this will be an uncomfortable journey for you.” He tells her, though his voice is hesitant with shyness.

She blushes scarlet with embarrassment, mortified that he has noticed her unease. She does as he says though, settling back against him. His presence is calming, the warmth of him against her coupled with the gentle undulation from the horse soothes her.

A few moments pass in silence before Osferth speaks. “What happened to you?”

“It is a long story.” She sighs.

“It is a long journey.” He counters. She can hear the faintest of smiles in his voice.

She tells him of her mother, her father, of her and her sister leaving home and all they had endured on their travels. She recounts her sister’s fever, of watching her fade, everything up to the point that she had met him.

He listens, allowing her to speak without interruption. When she finishes he is quiet for a moment longer.

“I am sorry for your loss, my lady. I pray better days may find you.” He says eventually.

She sighs, eager to focus the attention on anything other than herself. “And what of you? Do you have a family?”

“There is not much to tell.” He admits. “I was a monk. Now I serve Lord Uhtred.”

She detects a sadness in his tone, there is definitely more to his story, but she dares not press him further as he is clearly uncomfortable speaking of it. She feels foolish for allowing herself to entertain her attraction to him; of course he is a man of God, he’d never be interested in her.

They ride on wordlessly, eventually coming to a stop once the sun begins to set. They set up camp and she is touched by the effort that the four men go to to ensure she has the shelter of a tent and a bedroll to sleep on.

However, she feels too confined as she lays under the canopy, so used to being able to stare up at the night sky, pointing out each of the stars with her sister. She misses her.

Dragging her bedroll out into the open, she places it close to the dying embers of their fire and lays down.

“My lady, what are you doing?” She hears Osferth whisper in the darkness.

“I am not used to not being able to see the sky.” She responds.

When he says nothing, she allows herself to drift off to sleep, feeling the safest she ever has.

Her eyes flutter open as dawn breaks and she is immediately met by the sight of Osferth seated by the burned out fire pit, looking exhausted.

She pulls herself up slightly, rubbing her eyes. “Osferth? You are an early riser.”

He smiles uncomfortably. “Truthfully, my lady, I have not been to bed.”

“Why not?”

“I did not wish to leave you out here by yourself, it’s not safe. I watched over you while you slept.”

Her heart flutters at his admission, an involuntary smile spreading its way across her features, which he returns with a genuine one of his own.

As the weeks pass, she and Osferth become comfortable travel companions. She spends her days leaning into his chest as they travel by horse. They share a waterskin, their fingers brushing ever so lightly as they pass it back and forth. She is unable to help the tingles that dance across her skin at each of his touches.

Their evenings are spent sitting around a fire, their knees grazing as they sit side by side, exchanging shy smiles and stories. He gives up the use of his tent, laying his bedroll out in the open too - a means for him to rest, but also ensure she is kept safe.

The first time that the group shares ale together, dread gnaws at her stomach. She has witnessed the effects that it had on her father, and does not know how she will cope with that when up against four men instead of just one. To her surprise and delight the mood becomes lighter and jovial as the amber liquid is passed around. She happily accepts and drinks her fill when Osferth passes it to her. He laughs when she grimaces at the taste.

She knows she is falling for him and there is nothing she can do to stop it. She is certain he feels the same way though, there can be no other explanation for how he looks at her, how he treats her.

That is until they stop for a few days in a town. She hurriedly follows Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric, as Osferth rushes over to them, pleading for help.

“He’s mine!”

“No, he’s mine, you bitch!”

“Filthy whore!”

She watches in shock as the two women exchange insults, slapping at each other, until Finan and Uhtred eventually pry them apart.

He has fucked both of these women. Both of them.

“Why do they fight over you?” Uhtred asks Osferth, holding back a red haired woman, who struggles wildly against him.

“I-I’ve no idea, Lord!” He stammers, before swiftly walking away.

But she knows why, and her heart sinks. She turns away, blinking back tears as she chastises herself for being so foolish. She had misinterpreted his friendliness for romantic interest and is now left feeling hurt as a result of her own delusions.

She swipes angrily at her eyes, swearing to herself that she will pull away from him after this, no longer allowing herself to entertain the girlish fantasy that they could ever be more than friends.

His behavior towards her goes unchanged though. He still holds her close as they share a saddle, still allows his fingers to linger against her own whenever they share water or ale, he sleeps outside each night with her, though always on separate bed rolls kept a respectable distance apart. It eats away at her, makes her ache, to endure such closeness and know it will never be anything more. Yet she endures it, knowing the only alternative is to return to a life alone.

It is a warm afternoon as she stands knee deep in the river, bathing. The water is refreshing against her bare skin and, for a moment, her troubles seem far away, running off of her in much the same way that the rivulets of moisture slide down her body.

She turns and catches sight of Osferth on the edge of the treeline, watching her. She has no idea how long he has been standing there for, but he freezes when he sees he has been caught.

While she is a novice when it comes to matters of the heart, she is certain the look in his eye is one of desire. Deciding to be bold, she steps out of the water and back onto the bank, not bothering to retrieve her discarded clothing. If her feelings truly were requited then this was the best way to find out.

She walks towards him, closing the gap between them. She can see his breathing is unsteady as he takes in the sight of her, he is trembling slightly. Leaning up on tiptoes, she presses the lightest of kisses to his lips, and her heart swells as, for the briefest of moments, he reciprocates.

As quickly as his lips meet hers, he is jerking away. “No, my Lady!”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Backing quickly away from him, the familiar sting of rejection piercing her heart once more, she grabs her clothes and runs from him, before he has the chance to say anything else. Tears stream freely down her cheeks, this time she does not try to wipe them away. This is the second time she has allowed herself to be drawn in by Osferth, only to endure heartache.

He has now made it perfectly clear that he’s not interested in her and she decides it is in her best interests to pull away from him entirely.

She forces herself to sleep inside her tent, becoming used to textile above her head, instead of the glittering stars. She sits as far from him as possible at every opportunity. There are no more shared waterskins, their knees no longer touch. If the rest of the group notice the shift in dynamic then they choose not to say anything. She rides with Sihtric, sitting snugly behind him in his saddle, ignoring the pleading looks of sadness from Osferth each day when she climbs onto another man’s horse and not his.

He is just missing her companionship, she decides, he will get over it when they arrive at the next town and he finds another woman to warm his bed. She hardens her heart, allows her sadness to devolve into anger and continues to keep him at arm’s length.

The day they arrive in Coccham, they spend the day at an alehouse. Uhtred has managed to acquire the only two available rooms upstairs for the evening, so they will have the luxury of sleeping in an actual bed for tonight. She is almost giddy with excitement at the prospect.

When they have drunk their fill, they head up the rickety wooden staircase. Sihtric and Finan file into one room, with Uhtred following close behind. He stops in the doorway, turning to her and Osferth.

“Looks like this room is full now. The pair of you can share that one.” He nods towards the door opposite, before closing his own.

Her face blanches. Bastard. He has done this on purpose.

She sighs, pushing past Osferth and stalking into the room. A small double bed takes up most of the space in the narrow confines.

“Oh, fucking perfect.” She spits, rolling her eyes.

Osferth offers an apologetic smile. “I can sleep on the floor, my Lady, I don’t mind.”

She rounds on him, her anger flaring. “I’m surprised you haven’t found another whore’s bed to share for the evening!”

His eyes widen in shock. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You fucked those other women, Osferth!” She shouts, and before she can stop it, her voice is cracking as the dam bursts and she starts to cry. “You’ll put your cock into anyone but me it seems…”

His face softens and he moves to comfort her, but she is quick to push him away. “What’s so wrong with me?!”

He looks guiltily at her. “There is nothing wrong with you, my Lady, I think you’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen actually…”

“But you rejected me! When I tried to kiss you, you rejected me.”

He shakes his head, closing the gap between them and gently grabbing her by the shoulders. This time she doesn’t push him away. “You didn’t give me time to speak.” He explains, looking into her eyes with sincerity. “I wasn’t rejecting you. You deserve better than to be humped against a tree. If you’re to be my woman then I want our first time together to be special.”

She sniffles, her tears subsiding, replaced by confusion. “Your woman? If that is what you wanted then why did you lay with those other women in the last town?”

He sighs, averting his gaze, shame etched across his angular features. “That is not something I’m proud of, my lady. I have wanted you for so long, and been so pent up, I needed a release. I never told you of my feelings because I didn’t think I stood a chance. You are so wonderful and I-I am Osferth. I am simply Osferth.”

Her heart beats wildly against her ribs as she listens to him, staring up at him doe-eyed, unable to resist the grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, you are Osferth.” She whispers, leaning up towards him.

When their lips meet he does not pull away. He wraps his arms around her, his mouth moves hungrily against hers in a kiss that is full of need and desperation. They pull at each other’s clothing, months’ worth of built up longing propelling their movements.

When they are both finally naked, Osferth guides her to lay back on the bend and she drinks in the sight of him appreciatively. While he is tall and slender, he is not as skinny as she’d expected him to be, well developed muscles add a broadness to his chest and shoulders. His erection sits hard, thick and heavy at the apex of his slim thighs and she bites back a moan at the sight of it, arousal pooling hot between her legs.

“You really are beautiful.” He murmurs, his gaze flickering over her form as she lays beneath him. “Will you let me show you just how much I desire you, my Lady? I wish for there to be no doubt in your mind.”

She nods, biting her lip in anticipation, waiting to see what he will do.

His hands trace over every curve of her as moves slowly backwards down the bed, stopping once his face is level with her cunt. Spreading her thighs he inhales sharply at the sight of just how wet she is for him.

There is no preamble, and she gasps, arching her back when she feels the flat of his tongue move through her folds.

He whimpers softly at the taste of her, the sound vibrating through her core, his grip on her thighs tightening as laps greedily at her, occasionally dragging the tip to her pearl, causing her legs to tremble.

She cants her hips against his face, noticing how he ruts against the bed as he devours her, his moans of pleasure intermingle with hers and the sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue moving in earnest against her centre.

As he sucks harshly against the apex of her sex she begins to feel the pressure of her climax building deep within her, her breaths becoming short and shallow. Osferth’s grip on her is almost bruising as the movement of his thrusts against the bed speed up.

With a final swirl against her bud, she falls apart against his mouth, clenching and writhing as he keeps his mouth firmly against her as she cries out in ecstasy, white hot sparks of pleasure rendering her boneless and light headed.

She closes her thighs around his head as he emits a guttural groan against her oversensitive cunny, his own pelvis stuttering against the mattress.

He appears dazed as he finally looks up at her, eyes hazy and chin shiny with her slick. She is certain she must look similarly bedraggled with how hard he has caused her to peak.

“We may have to wait a moment before we do anything else.” He confesses sheepishly, sitting up and looking down at the blankets where he’d been laying.

Her gaze follows his line of sight and she sees the mess he has made, a large patch of the bed now sticky with his release.

“You’re lucky we have the whole night then.” She giggles.

He moves to lay beside her, pulling her against him. “Yes, very lucky.”

554 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 21 days

Text

three in the morning - b.d. + g.t.

Bodhi Durran x reader x Garrick Tavis Garrick comes back from overnight watch to find both of his partners in his bed. Filth ensues. words: 4.1k 🏷: NSFW. no book spoilers, but set during Fourth Wing. reader is afab and feminine, but no pronouns used. threesome, established poly relationship, soft dom/sub dynamics, Garrick’s first time subbing but he’s very good at it, overuse of pet names, a lot of praise, mention of oral sex (f receiving), some body worship, because who doesn’t want to kiss each one of Garrick’s ab muscles?, unprotected PIV x2, sloppy seconds / cum as lube (don’t look at me like that), lots of aftercare!!! buckle up and bring a towel and maybe some baby wipes. you’ll need them. I'm really exposing myself with this one, but I hope you like it.

Being a section leader has its perks — namely, getting a nicer room with a bigger bed — but Garrick could really do without the once-a-week overnight watch.

It wreaks havoc on his sleep schedule, staying up until two in the morning every Thursday night, only to wake back up at six for another full day of classes and flight training. Fridays are hell, but at least he has Saturday to ease things off, catching up on sleep — his personal record is eleven hours straight, before Xaden practically dragged him out of bed for a dagger drop.

You and Bodhi try to make it more pleasant, making sure he eats something before his shift starts and kissing him goodbye, spending those nights in his room, so that he can come back to fall asleep in warm sheets and soft embraces. While that’s very nice to come home to, it also somehow makes the watch even more agonizing, knowing that his partners are sleeping in his bed right now, half-dressed, a soft and loving tangle of limbs that he can’t work his way into for hours.

When the infantry leadership finally shows up to relieve him — and they’re always fucking late —, he’ll make the climb up to his room, where he usually finds you both fast asleep. He’ll use the last of his energy to shower and brush his teeth before slotting himself into bed next to you. The feeling of the mattress shifting under his weight will wake you up, and you’ll each give him a sleepy kiss and a soft welcome home before you slip back into dreamland, content to cuddle into all that plush muscle until sunrise — which is only a few hours away.

But sometimes you two don’t make it all the way to bed. There’s been more than one occasion where you’ve tried to stay up until his return, passing the time studying, only to knock out around one, slumped onto the floor with your textbooks still open in your laps, leaving Garrick to wake you up and help you change into proper pajamas before you all pile into bed together.

“I’ve told you two not to stay up for me,” he’ll remind you gently, not having it in him to properly scold you when you’re so soft and sleepy like this, all warm and pliant in his arms.

“We know,” Bodhi always replies, wrapping his body around the older boy’s. “Just missed you.”

Then you’ll hum in agreement, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder, and it’ll only be a matter of minutes until Garrick is out like a light, completely relaxed, all his worries brushed away by your soft touches.

Tonight, as he moves to unlock the door to his room, he sees the soft glow of a mage light, but when he crosses the wards that Xaden helped him put up, he doesn’t hear the still silence that should come with the pair of you having fallen asleep. A mischievous smile spreads across his face at the familiar sounds; the wet smack of skin on skin and the soft, needy noises that always spill from your lips when someone is touching you just right.

Sure enough, Bodhi has you lying on the bed face-down, ass-up, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you back against his hips as he fucks you nice and deep.

Bodhi grins at him, and Garrick realizes that you’re facing the door — he wanted Garrick to find you two like this.

“Look who’s home, honey,” Bodhi coos.

It takes you a second to process his words, your brain already been turned to mush with how good Bodhi is making you feel, but you lift your head from the pillow you’d buried your face into, looking up. “Gare,” you breathe, your eyes widening.

He can see the little streak of fear that moves through you as you realize he’s back, that he’d caught you both red-handed, but Bodhi continues driving his hips into yours without a care in the world, showing zero signs that he’s going to stop.

That’s the difference between you two — Bodhi isn’t as afraid of Garrick as you are. It takes a lot for him to consider submitting, while you fold so easily — just the right look from either of them, being spoken to in the right tone of voice or touched in the right places, and you turn from a fearless dragon rider to a soft and pliant little toy.

Like tonight, when he’d been able to convince you to break Garrick’s rules and have some fun, just the two of you. You'd been so needy after nearly two weeks without any kind of sex, and when he’d woken you up in the middle of the night by grinding his hips against your ass and kissing your neck, your resolve started to crumble, very quickly.

It was too easy for him to lead you down that slippery slope that led to your current position — soft kisses turned into his hands all over your body, groping and squeezing… and then he’d convinced you to let him eat you out, to let him make you cum on his tongue… you don’t have to do anything, honey, just lay there and look pretty. it’ll feel so good, I promise.

It did feel good; very good, and it was only natural that it led to something more — the thorough fucking you’d both needed, been so desperate for after weeks without.

But Garrick doesn’t seem mad about this at all. He’s giving you that signature smug smile — like he’s proud that he has the both of you in his bed, and he has some devious plan in mind for you.

“How was watch?” Bodhi asks casually, starting to draw little circles on your clit with his fingertips.

“Fine,” Garrick answers. “Same old. A few first-years sneaking around and making out in the halls, but no threats to life as we know it.”

He strips off his flight jacket, draping it over the back of his desk chair like he always does. He’s wearing a tight thermal shirt underneath that hugs every muscle of his arms and torso just right, clinging to his chest.

You watch as he brings a hand down to rub and squeeze at his cock through his pants. It’s hard to see with the dim lighting of the room and the solid black fabric covering it, but you know that he’s definitely hard, ready to fuck you as soon as Bodhi’s done — they’ve always been good at sharing, at taking turns.

You shiver at the thought, wondering how Garrick is going to respond to finding you two here like this, if he’s truly not mad, or if the two of you will be in for a world of trouble in the next few minutes.

Garrick coos down at you, condescending. “You needed this so bad, didn’t you, honey? So desperate to be fucked that you couldn’t wait another hour for me to get back, that you just had to break the rules?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you find yourself nodding, agreeing with him. “Yes,” you whimper, “m’sorry, I just — ah — know you’re tired from watch, and you do so much for us already… didn’t want to bother you…”

He feels a twinge of guilt as he realizes that you have a point. It’s been much longer than it should have since he’d last fucked you properly— he’s always so busy with watch and third-year classes and section leader stuff, and trying to keep the rest of you alive… he’s exhausted at the end of every day, and you’d been too concerned for his health to ask him to do anything else on top of it all.

“Shh, honey,” he soothes, stroking your hair gently. “I’m not mad. S’ really fucking hot seeing you two like this in my bed. And I don’t care how tired I am, I’ll never be too tired to take care of my loves when they’re needy.”

You have that cute little concentrated look on your face as you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, holding your breath… he realizes that you’re trying not to cum until he gives you permission. So you do still care about his rules after all— or maybe this is just an attempt at damage control.

“It’s okay, honey. You can cum for us,” he coos.

You stop fighting it, letting the motion of Bodhi’s fingertips on your clit and the relentless thrust of his hips into yours push you toward the edge. A few seconds tick by, and you break, sobbing out Bodhi’s name and babbling incoherently as he continues to fuck you through your climax.

“Fuck,” Bodhi pants, his head tipping back. “You get so fucking tight when you cum, honey, gods…” He moves his fingers away from your clit, but continues railing into you, the head of his cock nudging against that special spot with every stroke.

You let your head drop back into the pillow, muffling your little squeaks and cries at the overwhelming sensation.

Adorable. And really fucking hot.

Garrick undoes the buttons of his pants, sighing in relief as the pressure on his crotch decreases. Having a hard-on in flight pants is never comfortable — the fabric is too stiff and restraining. He kicks off his boots, stripping down to just his underwear, and leaving the clothes in a pile on the floor that he’ll clean up later. Right now, he has more important things to do.

You continue to whine helplessly into the cushion, completely limp; Bodhi’s hands on your hips are the only thing keeping your body raised off the bed. He isn’t far behind you, if his panting breaths and soft moans are any indication.

“Oh, are you close, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” Bodhi stammers, struggling to keep eye contact with Garrick — another one of his rules; he always wants to see those pretty eyes of yours when he makes you fall apart. Unless he has you laid face-down, of course.

“Go ahead, then.”

He continues the movements for a few seconds before you hear a gorgeous little moan, and his pace slows to a lazy drag, riding it out.

“Holy shit,” he pants, stroking his hands over your hips appreciatively before he pulls out.

Garrick sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing your back for a moment. “You okay, honey?”

You hum in affirmation, moving your head to rest against his thigh, nuzzling your cheek into the soft muscle as you regain your strength.

“This is new,” he muses, brushing a knuckle over the strap of the little tank top you’re wearing; rider’s black, of course, but soft and lacy and completely impractical for anything other than sleeping, in both senses of the word. It’s just thin enough for him to see the outline of your nipples through it, hardened in the chill of the room.

Bodhi must have been truly desperate if he kept your shirt on. He normally loves taking his sweet time with you, sucking on your nipples and teasing them with his fingertips, groping at the softness of your chest. He could spend hours just doing that, and he has before, on multiple occasions.

Garrick brings his hands down to smooth over your shoulders, admiring the softness of your body. “Think you can go again, lovie?”

You make a happy sound of affirmation, eager to feel his body against yours after so long, but you’re still a little worried about him, and the fact that he’s been awake for nearly twenty-four hours already.

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?” you ask softly, looking up at him. How cute.

He just smiles. “Oh, I’m fucking exhausted. Which is why you two are gonna be doing all the work.”

Bodhi grins at him, having caught his breath. “Yes, sir.”

Garrick’s jaw flexes at the response, and he raises an eyebrow in warning.

The two of you had learned the hard way that Garrick is a little bit of an authoritarian. He likes to be in charge in the bedroom, and doesn’t tolerate any sort of sarcasm or backtalk out of either of you; a bit ironic, but if you were to bring that up, you’d quickly find yourself in a rather compromising position — though not an unpleasant one.

You decide to take this a little farther, boldened by the conspiratorial look on Bodhi’s face.

“Our section leader works so hard,” you coo, rising onto your knees. “All these long night shifts, keeping us safe… The least we can do is thank him for his service, and help him relax.”

Bodhi knows where you’re going with this, eager to follow along. “It’s for the good of the quadrant, really. Got to keep morale high.”

“Well then,” Garrick says smugly, liking the way this is headed. “Get on with it.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You work in easy synchrony — you sit up straighter to kiss him, Bodhi dipping his head down to kiss his neck, his hands smoothing over the broad expanse of Garrick’s chest and shoulders.

Garrick rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close, kissing back lazily and sighing against your lips — he'd needed this more than he’d thought.

Bodhi is still working diligently, kissing every muscle of his stomach one by one, pulling down the waistband of Garrick’s boxers just enough to kiss each of his hipbones, brushing his nose along the defined ridges of muscle.

You guide Garrick back to sit against the wall, putting a pillow behind him to lean back on — you know his entire body must be aching right now. Maybe you’ll offer to give him a massage tomorrow night, after dinner; he could use a tension-reliever, and it’s a nice opportunity for you to admire his back muscles and rub your hands all over them.

“Thank you, baby.”

You hum in response, kissing at his neck softly and cuddling into his side, laying a hand on his chest, right over his heart. His pulse jumps as Bodhi’s hand wraps around his cock, gliding up and down slowly.

“What do you want us to do, Gare?” you ask softly, dropping the ‘sir’ title — you all know that this isn’t the time to get into all of that, not when you all should really be getting to sleep, but also because it’s been so long; you just want to be soft with him, gentle, to remind him how much you love him and make him feel nice and relaxed after that nearly twenty-hour day.

“You too tired to ride me, baby?”

You shake your head no, sitting up to straddle him. As you spread your legs, a thick glob of what can only be Bodhi’s cum drips out of you — landing on Garrick’s thigh.

Oh.

You burn with embarrassment, but Garrick doesn’t look grossed out at all — amused, rather. “No need for lube, I guess.”

Your jaw drops as you watch him bring a hand down to scoop it up with two fingers, using it to slick up his cock for you. Bodhi looks equally stunned, but also very turned on.

You recover from your shock quickly, shifting your hips down to help him guide himself into you. You’d been well-prepared, but there’s still a bit of discomfort as you start to sink down onto Garrick’s lap, your body working to accommodate the thickness of him.

“Easy, baby,” he soothes, muscled forearms settling under the backs of your thighs to support your weight and keep you from taking him deeper. “Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

Your heart swells at the softness in his voice, another reminder of why you love him so much; he may look scary, but he’s really just a gentle giant. You dip your head down to kiss him, cradling his jaw with one hand and stroking your thumb over his cheek — he could use a shave come morning, but you’re secretly very eager to see what he’d look like with more than just a day’s worth of stubble.

Bodhi’s hand slips between your bodies, circling the pad of a finger over your clit. You make a soft, pleased sound into Garrick’s mouth, lifting your hips ever so slightly and lowering them slowly, bobbing up and down on the first few inches. He likes that, if the soft swear he lets out is any indication.

Bodhi continues the gentle movements, lips still smearing over the thick muscle of Garrick’s neck, down to his collarbone, kissing and nibbling and sucking at the pale skin. That’s definitely going to leave marks later, but you know Garrick doesn’t mind in the slightest. He always wears the hickies as proudly as he does the patches on his uniform, as a sign of achievement and a signal to anyone else that he’s spoken for — doubly spoken for.

Garrick moves his hands up to slip underneath your shirt, wanting to grope at your chest, and you take your chance; you sink all the way down until you’re sitting in his lap, your thighs pressed into his.

He nearly chokes, his fingers digging into the softness of your waist. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, “are you okay?”

You hum in contentment, starting to rock your hips against his. “Never better.”

You’ve never taken him this deep before. It’s delicious, feeling his cock filling you completely and nudging against that special little spot with every bounce of your hips, the wet slide of your bodies against each other, aided by Bodhi’s spend that continues to leak out onto your thighs.

It feels and even sounds obscene, wet and messy, definitely going to require a change of sheets tomorrow, but it’s clear that everyone involved is absolutely loving it — Garrick especially.

“Gods,” he pants, “takin’ me so fucking deep, baby, so warm n’ wet n’ tight, can’t — can’t even think, s’so good…”

They say sleep deprivation can be equivalent to intoxication after a certain point; that it starts to cloud your mind and slur your words, make you feel all soft and hazy and dizzy, loose-lipped and borderline incoherent. He certainly feels inebriated right now, his head spinning as he realizes that his exhaustion is making every sensation more intense, dialing everything up to eleven.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so glassy-eyed and flushed and completely gone. It’s always been you and Bodhi under his spell, at his beck and call, whimpering incoherently while you’re held down by his strong hands and used as he sees fit — and you all love that, but this is just as good, if not better.

“We should have done this earlier,” Bodhi says teasingly, brushing a hand over the other boy’s stomach and admiring the way his abs muscles flex as he tenses and squirms underneath you.

Garrick gasps out an agreement, his hold on your hips tightening.

“Relax for us, baby,” Bodhi coaxes, bringing a hand up to guide the other boy’s head toward him. Garrick swallows, nodding obediently and letting Bodhi pull him into a soft kiss that deepens quickly, Garrick tugging Bodhi closer with one hand and making a soft, desperate noise against his lips.

You rub a hand up and down the muscle of his arm slowly, attempting to relax him, and his grip starts to loosen. “There we go,” you soothe. “Such a good boy.”

Garrick whimpers at the praise, the prettiest little sound you’ve ever heard him make — and you want to hear it again.

“Oh?” you ask, teasing. “You like being called a good boy, Gare? Like being told how pretty you are, how good you feel inside me?”

He pulls his lips away from Bodhi’s to answer you. “Yes,” he pants, flushed and out of breath — a definite sign that he’s almost there. Usually it takes a while longer for you to get him this close, but you suspect that he’s too tired to care, and that he’s enjoying being taken care of much more than he thought he would; he isn’t holding back anymore.

Bodhi takes his turn to coo praises at him. “You’ve been such a good boy for us, Gare, letting us take care of you… I know that this is new for you, but you’re doing so well.”

Another soft whimper, his breathing ragged and uneven.

You’re a little out of breath yourself, your thighs starting to ache from the exertion, but you’re determined to get him there, and your words definitely seem to be helping. “You have such a nice body, baby. So strong, so nice to look at, to touch… Feels so good, too. Love feeling full of this perfect cock.”

You grind your hips down a little harder, and Garrick gasps, his eyes rolling back. “So good,” he breathes, “fuck, baby, please don’t stop, need to — need to cum, please, s’so good…”

“Shh, sweet boy, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I’m not going to stop. You can cum when you’re ready. Just want you to feel good, okay?”

“Thank you, oh, fuck, cumming!” he gasps, gripping your waist and keeping you seated in his lap as he spills into you, thrusting his hips up into yours with a few lovely little moans. He pants into your neck, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug to keep you close.

You can feel his heart racing, his thighs trembling underneath yours — that must have been pretty intense. “You okay, baby?” you ask softly, bringing a hand up to play with the damp curls at the back of his neck.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, “just a little… little dizzy...”

Bodhi shushes him quietly, pressing a few soft kisses to his bicep and laying his head against the boy’s shoulder, rubbing his back. “Deep breaths,” he coaxes, the way Garrick usually does for the two of you after he’s fucked you senseless like this.

“Did so good for us, Gare,” you praise, kissing the top of his head. “We love you so much, baby.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles into your shoulder, exhausted. His breaths have evened, his pulse slowing, but he still clings to you, keeping your body pressed to his.

You stay like that for a moment, just holding each other, letting him come down slowly. You press little kisses to his head every so often, rubbing your palms over his shoulders to release the tension there.

“Let's get you cleaned up and in bed, big guy,” Bodhi coaxes.

“We’re already in bed,” Garrick responds in a soft mumble, not wanting to get up. It’s comforting to know that he’s still cognizant enough to be a smartass.

You laugh. “C’mon, lovie. There’s only a few hours until formation.”

He whines softly, burying his face deeper into your neck -- knowing that as soon as he goes to sleep, it’ll be time to wake up and start another exhaustingly long day, and wanting to stay like this forever, soft and safe and free of the school’s expectations of him.

Bodhi has given up on getting him to shower, and instead holds out a pair of sweats. “You can be the middle spoon, and we can cuddle until breakfast,” he offers, “but you need sleep.”

Garrick sighs, knowing Bodhi is right. He loosens his grip enough for you to get up, and you regret it immediately upon feeling the wetness running down your leg, a mix of each of you. You wince, but Bodhi is quick to hand you a scrap of fabric from the drawer of Garrick’s nightstand for you to clean yourself up with.

All three of you are going to need showers in the morning, along with multiple cups of coffee at breakfast and an early night in, but none of you regret this in the slightest.

With a quick change of underwear from the overnight bags you and Bodhi had packed for your little sleepover, you all pile back into bed, with Garrick in the middle — your usual arrangement, since he takes up the most space, but also because you want to keep showing him how much you love him, that you’re there for him.

“Love you,” Garrick says through a yawn, settling under the covers. “M’sorry for neglecting you.”

“We love you too, Gare. And you didn’t neglect us. You were just busy. We understand,” Bodhi soothes.

“F’ that ever happens again, jus’ tie me to the headboard n’ have your way with me,” he mumbles.

You laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, love.”

He doesn’t respond — he’s already fallen asleep, tucked safely between his partners in a soft, warm bed. You each press a kiss to his cheek, snuggling into his side.

“G’night,” you murmur.

“Night,” Bodhi replies, nearing sleep himself. “Love you.”

You reach across Garrick’s chest, intertwining your fingers. “Love you, too.”

#bodhi durran #garrick tavis #fourth wing #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #18+#smut #poly gare and bo

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aliceinxreaderhell · 3 months

Text

Soap and Soapier

When Simon realized it was way too late. Although thinking it through, there was nothing he would have actually changed at all. He loves both of you it's just, well.

He's dating two Soaps

This was supposed to be short ;)

Ghoap x fem!reader

No smut, but sexual innuendos

You and Soap just have so many similarities. Same love language, the two of you loved cuddling on the couch, never taking your hands off each other and Simon. Melted everytime Simon did any act of service. Both wanted a kiss after everything.

When Simon realized it was way too late. Although thinking it through, there was nothing he would have actually changed at all. He loves both of you it's just, well.

He's dating two Soaps.

Similar maneurisms too. Was more apparent once the three of you moved in. Simon was quick to notice the more you two spent time together both of your flailing arms matched the other.

Simon melted a bit noticing how close you two were. He'd be close to feeling jealousy if yours and Johnny favorite past time was making Simon blush as much as he could.

At first it wasn't even ment to be a game. When the three of you moved in there was a bit of distances from the blonde. It was hard for him moving into a new place and still had a few insecurities of not only having one, but two lovers. You and Johnny let him take his time and ease in, almost like treating him like a feral kitten.

But like a feral kitten you want to house train you have to give them attention and get in their space and pick them up.

You felt worried that too much time had passed, and you didn't want Simon to feel abandoned in the relationship. Teaming up with Johnny, the two of you decided on a movie night.

Placing Simon in the middle of the couch, turning him into the coziest pillow. You played with Johnny's hand resting on Simon's chest, enjoying the presence of your two lovers.

Johnny only sat through 20 minutes of the movie before the comments started. Most of them about how dumb the plot is or how annoying a character is.

"At least he's got a nice ass to look at" Johnny chuckled.

"Yeah," you smirked, "but Simon's ass is better"

You tilted your head up, planting a quick kiss below Simon's jaw. Definitely noticing his ears growing pink.

"His arms aren't as good as our boy's eh?" Johnny said, catching onto your brattyness right away.

"Or thighs" your hand started to travel up and down his torso.

Simon, let the two of you go back and forth for a bit, filling his ego.

"His cock couldn't be any better-"

With a quick "bloody hell," he ripped both your hands away from his waistband of his sweats and pulled the two of you into the bedroom.

After that night, it became a challenge to see how fast you two could get Simon to blush. And full face red, not his cute little pink ears.

Johnny's favorite way was waking up to you still alseep up against him. But Simon still awake. Since being in the military, both of the, by habit, wake up 0500 sharp. Johnny used to hate being on leave and waking up that early, he just wanted to get a proper sleep without his body screaming at him to wake up. But now he loves it, it's time he gets alone with Simon but still has you close to know your safe and with them.

So he uses his time wisely and flirts like he'll to make him blush. Until of course, you stir awake.

Which ends the morning very sweaty or him calling you idiots (loveingly) and starting breakfast.

Your favorite way is too, riley, him up. (Haha get it? Rile, Riley, ok I'll see my self out)

It always starts with small touches, telling him how good he looks and how his body wash smells good.

It would always end with you leaning over the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering how thankful you are about the cabinet he fixed or that he remembered to buy more of your favorite snacks. Slowly kissing his neck, a nibbling on his earlobe.

Then walking away.

The two of you would know who won that day by who got punished the worst at night.

Simon would never admit to it but he loves the attention his two idiots give him.

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SO MUCH SHORTER, I HAD SO MANY THINGS TO DO BUT MY ADHD BRAIN JUST HAD TO FINISH THIS I SWEAR-

No but seriously I love the idea of Simon accidently attracting 1 type of person (brat)

#ghoap x reader #alice can write #cod x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 20 days

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 4

You can read part one, two, three here.

Summary: Y/n is intrigued by a certain illyrian. They open up to one another one night, but she stops it from getting out of control. With Feyre’s return, things get more tense.

Warnings: some angst.

Word count: 2.95K

Like every day, today was no different. Y/n would wake up, stand in front of the mirror for five minutes, bottle up her feelings and go on about her day.

“How’s Elain?” She asked Nesta, who was sitting in the same armchair as always, a book in her hand.

“Same as she’s been since she got turned” Nesta replied.

“How are you?” she asked, her tone serious and low.

“Never better. I’m free to do whatever I want”.

“Are you? All I’ve seen you do is sit in that armchair, reading books every day since we’ve gotten here”.

“I’m immortal now, what difference does it make if I sit here for one or twenty years? Not everyone wants to venture into the world like you”.

“You’re upset with me” Y/n observed.

“With you, with everyone” Nesta sighed.

“I understand. What can I do to help you?”.

“Nothing. No one can do anything about this”.

Y/n closed her hands into fists, clenching so hard she almost broke her bones “at least we’re all together” she tried to find words to comfort her sister, knowing she's suffered as much as she did, but these were the only words she found, the one she’d tell herself every time she’s about to break down “we’re all together, we made it” she repeated, to which Nesta only nodded.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Y/n plastered on a smile, masking the turmoil beneath before entering Elain’s room.

“Elain? How are you feeling today?”.

“I want to go home” Elain repeated, as she had been for the past couple of weeks.

“I know. I want to go home too. Let’s just wait until Feyre gets back” she stroked her sister’s hair and kissed the top of her head before leaving.

Luckily, no one was in the dining room when she entered. The house offered her food, which she ate very slowly.

“Are you alright?” a voice interrupting her trail of thoughts, catching her off guard.

“What?”.

“Are you alright?” Azriel repeated, concern evident in his voice.

“Yes, why?”.

“You’re holding your fork midair” he shifted his eyes to her hand, where was holding the fork.

“Oh, I was just lost in my thoughts” she explained, lowering the fork back onto her plate.

He slid a chair two seats away from her and sat down, a plate full of food appeared in front of him as he dug right in. Her eyes trailed him all the way.

She took another bite of her food, but with a lot on her mind, she had no appetite. She wanted to stand up and leave, but seeing he just got here, she didn’t want him to think she’s leaving because of him and she did not want to be rude. Since when do I care about what other people think? she thought to herself.

“You’re doing it again” Azriel remarked, emitting a soft chuckle.

She placed her fork back down “how’s spying going?” She inquired, distracting herself from her thoughts, but also out of curiosity, not that she’d admit it.

“‘The spying’ is going slow, but we’re making progress” a smile remained plastered on his face.

“Why are you smiling?”.

“No one has phrased that question like that before”.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything”.

As they sat in silence, Azriel hesitated before speaking again “how are you coping? I can only imagine how you must feel, it’s not easy becoming fae when you hate our kind” it wasn’t a confrontation, but acknowledgment of what he’d observed.

“No, it’s not. But as you can see, I’m doing well” she lied. Not wanting to push her further, he only nodded.

“Do you sleep upside down like bats?” she spontaneously asked, making him choke on his drink from the peculiar question.

“No. No, I do not. I sleep like normal people” his eyes furrowed with curiosity as he turned to face her.

“How would I know” she shrugged “you do have wings of a bat… I just thought you had other characteristics of a bat as well” she added.

“Like what?”.

“Do you bite- or drink blood?”.

“Only when asked to” a smile tugged at his lips “and no, I don’t drink blood. Any other clarification I can assist you with?.

“No, not at the moment” she struggled to hide her amusement.

“Oh, you poor thing! But don’t worry, I’ve come to rescue you” Cassian said to his brother, as he strode in, noticing the two of them sitting alone.

She rolled her eyes at him “I was just leaving”. “And just for the future, when you want to rescue someone, maybe do it before the end” she advised before walking out

Azriel kept a stern expression before standing up himself.

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.

“I finished eating”.

“You’re just gonna leave me alone?”.

“You’ll do fine on your own” he patted his brother’s shoulders.

—-

Y/n had always had trouble sleeping at night, but ever since her new life at the Night Court, her nightmares increased. Unable to sleep, she went upstairs to the roof. This space had become her comfort place when she needed to escape the things that plagued her sleep. Seeing as Cassian trained in the morning and Azriel being away most of the time, she thought no one would be here at night time. Reaching the training ground, occupied by her thoughts, she paid no attention to who was there. Fiddling with the blue celestite necklace around her neck, she reached the edge and looked up at the sky. Three bright stars decorating the visibly huge mountain, Ramiel.

“What’s on your mind?” sleek like the shadows, Azriel approached, snapping her back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, she muttered “don’t you ever sleep? Even bats do” Y/n quipped, attempting to deflect.

“In the morning”.

“Are you referring to the bats or yourself?”.

“Both” he let out a soft chuckle.

“As I recall, you’re awake in the early mornings, so how many hours do you sleep?”.

“Enough to keep me going. What about you? You’re awake”.

“But I do sleep in the morning. In case you haven't noticed, I eat breakfast when you’re all having lunch or dinner” Y/n reminded.

“I have noticed... You still haven’t answered my question” Azriel persisted.

“What question?”.

“What’s on your mind?”.

“Nothing”.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be staring into nothingness all day” he pointed out.

“I’m fine. It does not concern you”.

“Alright, how about I share something personal about me, and you can tell me what’s bothering you?” Azriel offered.

“And why would I want that?”.

“Out of curiosity. I’ve also noticed you like knowing things, especially when it concerns your sisters and yourself. So, go ahead, ask me anything you want? Anything you want to know”.

She contemplated for a while. “What happened to your hands?” she blurted out, one of her hands remained fiddling with the necklace.

He did not anticipate her question, but still, he answered “my brothers” he cleared his throat “my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what’d happen when you mix oil and fire with our quick healing gifts” he explained, and shadows wrapped tighter around him.

“How old were you then?” she asked, her voice low and soft.

“Eight” a hint of darkness gleamed in his eyes.

“Were they punished?”.

“Eventually”.

“So, your father did nothing, as his flesh and blood was set on fire?” her tone shifted, her face contorted with anger.

“I am a bastard, while my half-brothers are his legitimate sons. In his eyes, they are his flesh and blood” he clarified.

“It makes no difference. You’re his son, nonetheless” she shook her head, tightening her grip on her necklace.

“It did to him”.

“What about your mother? Is she-”.

“That’s another personal question. We agreed on one. Now, it’s your turn”.

“What do you want to know?”.

“What’s been bothering you? And don’t say transitioning, you’re more concerned today”.

“I went to see Elain today. I know it takes time to heal, and I know I shouldn’t interfere with her healing process, but it- it ‘s so hard to just stand by and do nothing. I want to help her, and she doesn’t want my help. Even if she did, I don’t know what to do and how to help her. Her wedding was supposed to be in a few weeks” she sighed “ I worry about Nesta, too. Although she seems fine, I know she’s not. She used to tell me everything, and now she’s hiding from me” she opened up for the first time. Realizing that, she regretted it immediately and didn’t know why she agreed to that stupid deal. With the shadows whispering into his ears, Azriel discerned her discomfort “that necklace, do you always hold it when you’re feeling… a strong emotion?” Azriel asked, attempting to change the subject.

“I-” she looked down at her hand wrapped around the necklace ”I suppose. I never gave it a thought” she lowered her hand,releasing her grip on the necklace.

“That necklace, where did you get it from?” his eyes narrowed as he recognized the stone. She never took off that necklace, but today was the first time he'd spotted it. After all, it’s not polite to stare down at a lady’s chest, and being the gentleman he is, he never looked.

“It was a gift from my mother, why?”.

“It’s a rare stone, only found in certain places” he explained.

“You recognize it?”.

“I’ve seen something similar once or twice, but I could be mistaken”.

“I don’t think it’s from anywhere in Prythian. My mother hated your- our kind. She’d never take or gift me anything related to us” Y/n stated and his shadows danced around her.

“Why do you hate our kind so much?”.

“That is another personal question. We agreed on one” she repeated his words to him “and I’m not making another deal with you. I’ve already said way too much” Y/n retorted.

“What are you so afraid of?”.

“More questions” an amused smile crept onto her face.

“Fair enough” he raised his hands in surrender “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about tonight”.

“Good night, shadowsinger” Y/n said, heading swiftly towards the stairs and his shadows slowly retracted.

“Good night, Y/n” he murmured in a subdued tone as he watched her leave. That night, for the first time in a very long time, Azriel slept peacefully.

The following day, Y/n didn’t go out to eat breakfast or lunch but she went out for dinner. Upon arrival. She found Cassian seated in his usual spot. Ignoring his presence, she took a seat, hoping for a peaceful meal.

“No mean comments tonight?” Cassian quipped.

“I was literally minding my own business. What do you want, you brute bastard?” Y/n replied sharply.

“There we go” he smirked.

“Your brother won't be joining us?”.

“Which one?”.

“The somewhat civilized decent one”.

“I’m assuming you mean Az. He left early this morning. He’ll be gone for a while. Why do you ask?... Aw, don’t tell me you have a thing for my handsome brother” Cassian teased.

She huffed “you wish…without him here, a war would start and I’d rather not get my hands dirty” she retorted, taking her plate and heading for the exit.

“It’s cute that you think you can take me. Perhaps if you trained with me long enough, you’d be a worthy opponent, but still, even then I doubt you’d defeat me” he taunted, his smugness evident.

“Piss off” Y/n snapped.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” he mocked.

“It would take much more than that to do so, especially coming from you” Y/n replied dismissively.

“And why is that?”.

“You simply don’t matter enough to me, to even consider anything you say, good or bad” she shrugged before leaving.

“Ouch” he murmured.

—

Being aware that Feyre was returning today, Y/n went to check on Elain before her arrival. However, what she found when she got to her sister’s room left her in shock.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Y/n spat out, her voice seething with anger. Lucien was standing in the doorway as Feyre left Elain’s room and closed the door behind her.

“Y/n, wait. I can explain” Feyre interjected.

“You brought him here? To see Elain? The fucking monster who sold us out to Hybern” her words were laced with deep-seated hatred.

“It’s more complicated than that, and he is her mate” Feyre reminded.

“He’s no such thing to her”.

“I just wanted to see her” Lucien tried to clarify.

“You don’t get to speak” Y/n pointed her finger at him.

“Y/n, he’s our guest. He will be staying with us” Feyre declared.

“You would let the man who ruined our lives, who ruined our sister’s marriage stay here with us?” she took a deep breath, trying to control her rage.

“If you would calm down and let me explain, you’ll understand-” Feyre urged.

“I’ll calm down when he’s gone. Do not let him near Elain, if you want him to stay in one piece” she warned, shooting Lucien with a glare before storming out.

“I take it you weren’t thrilled to see your sister?” Cassian smirked as Y/n passed him.

“Not in the mood today for your bullshit, brute”.

—-

The next time Y/n saw Feyre was at dinner, attended by Rhy’s inner circle, her sisters if they desired, and Lucien. She was reluctant to go, but fearing Elain might attend and be in the same room as that monster, with no one seemingly having a problem with him, she decided to go. She had arrived slightly later than everyone else. Feyre was sat next to Nesta, Rhys on her other side, Amren across from her, Cassian next to Amren, Azriel beside him, Mor opposite of him and Lucien across from Nesta, leaving two seats vacant, one next to Az and the other next to Mor. They were talking about flying lessons when she entered, dressed in a long-sleeved black gown with silver glitter that exposed her collar bones and back. Only the metal part of her necklace was visible. The upper part of the dress embraced her curves, while the lower part flowed like liquid silk as it draped over her figure. Knowing her temper, everyone stopped talking, if only to see what she’s about to say or do or who she’d pick a fight with. To their surprise, she did neither as she glanced at Azriel and took a seat beside Mor.

“What happened to you?” Y/n asked Azriel, gesturing to the wine splattered across his chest and neck. He looked down, only noticing it when she pointed it out.

“Mor spewed her wine when she heard Feyre wanted to learn how to fly” Cassian explained with a grin.

“You have wings?” a question directed at her sister.

“Yes, I can shape-shift”. At that, the conversation continued.

“I can teach you” Azriel offered, elaborating that the other two Illyrians had been trained at such a young age that they barely remember it. To which Cassian countered they still teach the younglings the basics, which ended with Azriel explaining that it’s not the same for older individuals, and that there are fears and mental blocks. Everyone fell silent and something inside of Y/n stirred. She wondered if he was talking about his experience, not forgetting the conversation they had where he told her about his past. She did not know a lot, but seeing as his own brothers burned his hands, they probably restricted him from flying or participating in anything that would give him any kind of power.

Feyre proceeded to ask her sisters for help against the king of Hybern. Explaining that with training they could potentially close the holes expanded by the cauldron. Amren offered to train the sisters, which Y/n refused, unwilling to take part in any of this. Despite the growing frustration among the others, Feyre was grateful that at least one of her sisters was willing to help. She explained that they might need their assistance during the meeting with the high lords and this time, both sisters rejected.

“People’s lives might depend on your accounts of it. The success of this meeting might depend upon it” Feyre clarified.

“Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no” Nesta asserted, while Y/n remained silent, watching the exchange between her sisters before Nesta stormed out. Now all eyes were on her.

“Y/n, please. We need your help” Feyre begged.

“Do you know what you're asking of me?” Y/n narrowed her eyes.

“I do. And I understand your hatred of our kind, but we-”.

“You understand nothing. All my life, I have helped you. I have dedicated my life to you, to Nesta, to Elain, and never have I once asked for anything in return. But helping you and your new found family is what got us into this mess. And now what? You expect us to go to that meeting that is full of entitled bastards who did nothing all these years, who don’t care about us, about mortals and beg them for help? I would rather see them all burn and their kingdoms or courts reduced to ashes” Y/n delivered the chilling words with an unsettling calmness, her voice devoid of any hint of emotion “and just as Nesta said, if you dare bring Elain into this, I’ll be the one delivering your throat to her” she glared at everyone in the room before leaving and slamming the door shut behind her.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllitas-blog

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stickyspeckledlight · 2 months

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Boop! 🐾

(L didn't get this out yesterday but I was also a smidge busy balduring my gates and stockpiling knock off thin mints)

Unfortunately I do not have enough thoughts to write a drabble, but yan!aventurine would totally boop you.

The worst part is that you have no one to blame but yourself. On one particular night, when you weren't quite pushed to your limit but where your thoughts certainly did verge on the homicidal, an idea crosses your mind that, you believe to be utter genius in the moment: if you cannot overpower him or outwit him, then you certainly can use your meager mental faculties to bamboozle the fucker.

It's ingenious, you're certain! A touch that is not provocative, not aggressive, but OH so...powerful. A primordial innocence primed with mischief and tomfoolery. An action of such utter stupidity that no one in their right mind could even begin to react to.

He has been attempting to goad you into playing one of his games for the past five centuries (and no, you affirm that your sense of time is quite in order), and from having performed this song and dance innumerous times, it is about now when he says or does something to make you give in, and then entraps you in his hold before you can escape.

It is you who takes the initiative.

A demented grin full of malice and desperation spreads on your face as you ready your finger, and rush over to him, and

Boop! right on his nose.

And it works. He is too stunned; either by the stupidity of the situation, or that you've initiated contact. But you do not fret over the reason. You seize the opportunity and slip into the bathroom, locking it and securing it with a chair you grabbed for good measure. In the throes of your victory, no rational thought crosses your mind.

But all actions have consequences, and this very true fact catches up to you. Aventurine has not come banging on the door or mocking you as you thought he would. You have not heard from him at all. This is a good thing, but it makes you nervous---compounded by the fact you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.

Sure, you could theoretically survive here for three weeks, as the only thing you'd be lacking was food. You had a toilet, and a shower and bath to decompress in, even! And if you wanted to lay down? You could merely set up a haven of comfort with the millions of towels Aventurine keeps in his gargantuan bathroom. It was a great place to bunker in for sure!

.......but do you really want to starve? Like, do you really, really, really want to put yourself through that over him? You do hate him and want to see him suffer, but your mother and every self-help book ever says that you should love yourself! And unfortunately and fortunately for you, you do love yourself enough to not want to go through it. But, you can at least be strategic about it. Nabbing supplies in the night? No, Aventurine has proven himself capable of operating without a wink of sleep for good knows how long. The key to this operation is to leave when he's left! Ahahaha! Good job, you! You really are a bonafide genius! Nous ought to send you an invitation to the ranks of the Society!

(you're aware that he could just bust down your door without issue, but you'll take reprieve when you can get it, you know?)

So, you wait, and keep on waiting even after you hear the entrance close. You will not take any risks, and you wait for what you think is a good hour or three. And then, you emerge.

You are swift and precise, making a beeline towards the kitchen to stock up, and just as you are about to open the cabinet to nab a box of succulent bioengineered cheese crackers---

"Boop!" a gentle pressure mounts on your nose.

There really isn't any winning with this guy, you think. After this nasty surprise, he "revokes your bathroom privileges," mounting it with a lock and essentially requiring his permission with the key card he gives you for it.

And worst of all, your concept of utter genius comes to haunt you in your every waking moment. Coming home from a long day of work? Boop! Threatening your family and friends? Boop! Playing Animal Walking? Boop! Throwing you into a bare room handcrafted for sensory deprivation? Boop! Post nut clarity? Boop!

You then see the one glaring folly in your initial thought process: why did you ever assume Aventurine to be in the right mind in any way or any situation?!

#lol i wonder if i can even post this to ao3 #eh maybe i can adpat it into an actual drabble but also this is so inherently tied to tumblr that it's tough #it's fine i wrote this in like twenty minutes or something as a breather from actual fic writing lmao #no what do you mean i have to read three chapters before next class that's stupid #yandere #yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine hsr #reader takes home a massive L #well then again they aren't home but aventurine would also then beg to differ #yandere aventurine x reader

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dira333 · 6 months

Text

Date Nights - Sero Hanta

Requested by @fuzztacular - for my Date Night Series

“So all I do is spin this thing?” Sero asks, eyeing the ball of wool in his hand.

“Well, you can try your hand on something yourself, I’m not stopping you.” You laugh, eyes on your project as you crochet another line.

“Sure, sure, but like… I have no idea how to do it.”

“I could show you.” You offer without looking up. This is a particularly hard line.

“Are you sure? You look kinda focused there.” There’s something in his voice that has you looking up. Your eyes catch his, somewhat of a lost look in them, before he realizes he’s been caught and drops his gaze to the ball of wool in his hand.

“Alright.” You drop your project on the table next to you and pull out a different ball of wool and a needle. “I’ll teach you the different stitches first. Gimme your hands.”

His hands are nice. Big and warm, with long fingers and smooth skin.

“Do you use hand cream?” You ask absentmindedly as you thread the wool around his fingers and catch a whiff of something… flowery?

Sero blushes next to you, rubs his neck with his free hand.

“I… My hands are pretty rough from work. Iida’s girlfriend recommended me something?”

“Oh? Well, I’m always in need of some recommendations, you know?”

“You? Nah. Your hands are too soft already. You’d slide off everything.”

You laugh. “I don’t think that’s true, but thanks. Some wools can really dig into your skin though, so it’s better to be prepared.”

Sero is, to put it frankly, terrible at crocheting.

He would be a lot better if he kept looking at what he was doing, but for every second his eyes were on his own project, he stared at you for at least three until you caught him.

“Is this like me watching you read Manga?” You ask, curious and a little daring.

He blushes a feverish red. “It’s not… I don’t… wait? What?”

It’s your turn now to avoid his eyes, your courage suddenly nowhere to be found.

“When we sit together to read Manga. I always take so long… because I… you look really cute when you’re reading…” When you sneak a peak at Sero, his mouth is wide open.

“I’m sorry!” You defend yourself, words rushing out of you. “It’s just that… It’s the only time you don’t notice! Oh god, that sounds so bad!”

“I’m going to stare at you so much now!” He declares, fist pumping as his grin almost separates his face. “Equal rights!”

“What?” You squeak, but Sero’s crocheting project is already forgotten, as he picks up the wool you’d been using for your project, his eyes zeroed in on you.

“Come on pretty, crochet for me.”

His words have barely left your mouth before he turns an unflattering shade of red and you wheeze, breath catching in your throat.

“Next time…” You manage to get out between coughs. “We go out on a date. No staring. We could do ice cream?”

Sero nods feverishly.

It’s only when the two of you have calmed down that he mumbles: “Can’t believe I scored a second date by being an idiot.”

It’s already past lunch by the time Hanta appears, hair disheveled, pajama top on backward. You’re on the Couch, too focused on your newest project to pay him much attention as he yawns. That is, until he flops down on you, burying his head in your stomach.

“Don’t ignore me.” He huffs into your shirt.

“Sorry.” You put your crocheting to the side to drag your hands through his hair, giggling at the groan it pulls from him.

“I hate nightshifts.” He mumbles.

“I know.”

“I missed our date.”

“It’s not your fault Sato got sick.” You scratch his back with one hand and he sighs deeply into the motion.

“Don’t fall asleep on me again.” You warn him. “You won’t be able to sleep tonight if you do.”

“But I wanna cuddle with you. I missed our date!” He does sound upset, even if muffled through the fabric of your shirt. You lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I know and I love you, but you stink.”

“I do not.”

“Do too.” You nudge his side when he falls silent, knowing full well he’s on his way to fall asleep again.

“Get up. Take a shower. I’ll set up everything for a coffee date.”

It’s quiet for a moment before you feel him press a kiss against your stomach. Hanta pulls himself up, yawns own more time, and leans into you to kiss you on the mouth.

It’s sweet, even with his terrible morning breath.

When he moves back, something changes in his eyes, jolts him the way Kaminari does sometimes to mess with him.

“What?” You ask but he grins, suddenly wide awake.

“Nothing. Just remembered I have a surprise for you.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Go shower.”

“Yessir!” He salutes, laughing as he shuffles off towards the bathroom.

You use the fancy plates his mother gifted you a year before, just because you can. There’s still some of the cake left that Sato made before he fell sick and you fry some rice, knowing full well that Hanta’s going to be starving by the time he makes it out of the shower.

Speaking of which.

He thinks he’s subtle, hiding behind the corner.

“I’ve already spotted you.” You point out as you wait for the milk to foam. Hanta will never admit it, but he likes his coffee fancy when he’s at home.

Hanta giggles and you turn to look at him, unable to keep the grin of your face when you see what he’s up to.

He’s pulled one of the more hideous Hawaiian shirts out of the closet, wears it unbuttoned over a wife beater like the detective from your new favorite Manga. In his mouth, he holds one single rose from the bouquet on the living room table.

He winks at you, one foot resting on a chair as he stands in the most ridiculous pose you’ve ever seen.

“What?” You wheeze. “Are you doing?”

“Flirting!” He takes the rose out of his mouth and points it at you like it’s a sword. “I need to show the prettiest girl in the world some love.”

“You’re ridiculous!” You laugh, taking the necessary steps closer to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him.

It wouldn’t be your classical weekend date without the two of you ending up on the Couch again. Hanta, tired after all the good food, is sitting up to keep himself from falling asleep again, diligently working at the crochet project he started months ago. It’s been a slow going progress, but he’s almost finished the head of the stuffed Octopus he’s making.

Your head is resting on his stomach, your arms on his legs on either side of your body as you catch up on your reading.

“Baby?” Hanta asks from above. “Is that correct?”

You lower your book to peer up at his work. When you nod, he grins, proud of himself.

“By the way, do I get to know more about my surprise?”

“Surprise?” Hanta asks, clearly confused for a second before he catches on.

“Oh, that. God, I’m so tired, I already forgot a gain. We stopped a robbery yesterday. You wouldn’t believe who they tried to rob.”

“Who?”

“I’m giving you a hint. They’re amazing, you’re a big fan, and you want nothing more than to get a tattoo by them.”

“What?!” You turn around to look at him.

Sero grins so wide, there’s a dimple showing. “And you don’t even know the best thing?”

“What’s the best thing?”

“I told them you’re a fan and showed them pictures of your tattoos. I got their mobile phone number. Whatever you want, you can get it now.”

“Are you for real?” You ask, voice shaking with disbelief. “If you’re joking…”

“Never.” He leans forward to kiss you softly, giggling when your brows are still furrowed.

“Only the best for my baby.”

Requests for the Date Night Series are always open. All I need is a character name (and a kind of date if you want to add that)

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Date Night Series #Sero Hanta #Sero x reader #Sero Hanta x reader #Sero fluff #Sero Hanta fluff #my hero academia #mha fluff #mha x reader

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