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Bye Bye Bedframe-Hozier Drabble

Author's Note: Sorry I've been dead rip, school SUCKS. Don't go to college. But I do have more fics planned for the upcoming week. Hoping to do something for the 5 year anniversary of Wasteland, Baby! yay!

Summary: Andrew breaks the bed frame, that's it, that's the entire fic. A little stupid tbh. (~400 words)(Genderneutral! Reader)

Warnings: interrupted smut, Dom! Andrew, Sub! Reader, uhh rough? Bad dirty talk, one spank at the end

This is a work of fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Fic Under the Cut🤎 18+ only, you've been warned.

The bed frame creaked with each sharp movement. Andrew had a grip on your hair the other on your hip as he fucked you into the mattress. Jolting the bed with each thrust.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so well, so, so good.”

His panted out words brush hot air against your ear. Pressing his face into the back of your neck as he rocked his hips into you. 

“You can take more, darlin’, I know you can.”

He whispered, pushing down between your shoulder blades until your face hit the pillows. The new angle sends shudders through your body as the tip of his cock hits that sweet spot over and over again. 

Your sweet moans fuel him to go faster, deeper. His hips slapping against your ass.

“Gorgeous, utterly gorgeous like this.”

He groans, wrapping a hand around the bar of the headboard. The bed frame creaks and groans, but you’re moaning too loud to hear it. His brutal thrusts nearly pushing your knees off the bed together. 

His name slips from your lips and becomes muffled in the sheets. Andrew grunts, pressing your head down further into the mattress as he lifts your hips with a hand beneath your stomach. 

“Fuck- fuck!”

He repeats the curse twice as the mattress suddenly gives away beneath his knee with a cracking sound. You curse, grasping for the headboard. The shock jolts you out of the pleasure.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay?”

The questions are asked at the same time. But Andrew’s takes precedence. 

“Yeah.”

You answer a bit shakily, confused, your heart pounding against your sternum. He gently pats your hip, pulling out and setting you down carefully. It’s a bit funny, watching his naked form kneel down on the floor to check the bed frame. His cock still hard against his stomach. It makes you giggle a bit deliriously. Andrew chuckles as well, but not for the same reason.

“We broke the bed frame, snapped in half right here.”

He says, running his finger along the crack that caused half the bed to sink. 

“You mean you broke the bed frame, you’re the one doing all the thrusting.”

Andrew gives you a look at the correction. His eyes darkened.

“You were the one begging me to go harder, brat.”

A blush comes on your face at reminder and you shrug.

“You were the one who listened.”

Andrew’s smile fades and he grabs your arm. Quickly tugging you up off the bed and onto your feet.

“That’s enough from you, we’re moving to the couch.”

“Gonna break that too?”

A hand gives you a soft slap on the ass, making you yelp.

“Shut it."

Okay, well, that was fun. Hope you liked it.

-Thad💚

HAHAHAHA DO IT!!

Broken Chords: Slow dancing in a burning room

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I don't even know what to say, I couldn't not write it.

Summary: the morning after their night together, Andrew and Y/n struggle to deal with the aftermath of their tattered relationship.

Warnings: Angst.

Read part one here.

She's up before he is. Y/n actually thinks she can remember every time he’s woken up before her; usually on her birthday or sometimes on their anniversary – when he remembers it – to make her breakfast and tea. Outside of those days though, she can count on Andrew waking up at around nine or ten in the morning – unless he’s going for a swim with his buddies.

And even then, when he gets back at seven, just because he knows it’ll annoy her, he’d strip down to his boxers and get back into bed next to her, smelling of the sea and pressing his salty body as close to hers as possible. He’ll stay there until he convinces her to get into the shower with him, which never really took that much effort at all.

Bringing herself back into the moment, Y/n carefully extracts herself from Andrew’s embrace and sits up against the headboard. Gathering the sheets over her chest, she watches him sleep; the even breaths keeping his lips parted ever so slightly, the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders and the hair strewn over his face. Because Andrew’s always been a fairly strong sleeper, she doesn’t think much of it when she reaches over to move a few messy strands away from his cheek, letting the back of her fingers linger near his jaw.

She misses that; being the only person he’d let get that close. Touch his face, hold his hand, taste the whiskey right off his lips.

Y/n used to think she'd do it forever. Or at least, for the rest of their lives. But she knows Andrew well enough to know that it probably isn’t in the cards for them. Every time they’re together, it takes everything in her being to remember that the pair of them aren’t exactly compatible – sometimes love isn’t enough.

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how much you feel, or how deeply you feel it, it just isn’t enough. The compromises start feeling like a chore and the sacrifices become another way to punish yourself.

After ghosting her thumb along the top of his cheek, Y/n finally pulls her hand away. A quick glance at the clock mounted to the wall proves that she’s long missed her flight, but of course, she doesn't mind if it means soaking up a couple more hours with him – and delaying the inevitable.

The hurt in his eyes. The promises that it won’t happen again. The way he doesn’t let her hand go, even as she’s walking away, so the very tips of their fingers are touching until they're literally out of each other’s reach.

That last kiss until the next one, the one that neither of them wants to break because in that moment, the just the thought of not doing it again is far too much.

The inevitable; getting on that plane and going home. Crying in the shower and then stripping the sheets off her bed because they make her think of him.

But in the essence of delaying the inevitable, she doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Shoving the blanket away, Y/n slips out of bed and snatches Andrew’s shirt from the night before off the floor. The fabric is silky and cool as it settles on her shoulders, and the hem falls past the middle of her thighs. She closes up a few buttons and then rolls up the sleeves so they aren’t swallowing her hands up before stealing away to the bathroom to quickly freshen up.

By the time she emerges from the small, adjoining bathroom, Andrew has turned onto his stomach and stretched an arm out to the vacant spot on the bed. The sheets are even more of a mess then before and she’s barely resisting the urge to get back in next to him; tuck herself under the weight of his arm and feel warmth rise up in her chest when he pulls her against his own.

Though, when another cautious step forward consequents her accidentally kicking his pants from the night before, Y/n stops to look at them on the floor. There’s something sticking out of the pocket, she can see enough of it to peak her interest but not enough to know what it is. So she picks it up.

A picture.

She sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the image, immediately recalling exactly when it was taken. London; October 5th, 2019. Though, considering what they’d gotten up to that night, it could have very well been the earliest hours of October sixth.

Sinking to the floor, she presses her back to the side of the ottoman near the foot of the bed. Everything about that night is so clear to her; the energy radiating off him right before the show, the roughness of his denim jacket when he’d draped it over her shoulders as they walked back to the car that would take them to the hotel. The taste of his mouth; whiskey, and something sweet.

The sound of his voice every time he said, “tonight’s gonna be special.”

In retrospect, October fifth – or sixth – was really the night that changed everything. The beginning of the end.

“Morning.” Y/n jumps a little when Andrew’s voice startles her out of her little trip down memory late. She must’ve been lost in thought for a while, because when she glances up at him, the mess of his hair has been remedied by long, tired fingers and he’s pulled on his boxers.

“Morning,” she mumbles, looking down at the picture again, “I didn’t realize you still had this."

Andrew shrugs, sinking down onto the floor in front of her, “its been right where you left it.” I’ve been right where you left me, he wants to add, but holds his tongue. He watches intently as she traces the pad of her thumb over the image of them on a hotel room sofa, with plastic cups filled with booze in their hands and her half-sat on his lap. God, the weight of her in his arms; he’ll do anything to make that a staple of his life again.

“I thought you were gonna propose that night,” she elicits softly, head still bent.

“What?” He rasps, furrowing his brows.

Y/n shakes her head, feeling silly about it all these years later. “You kept saying that it was a special night.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant now,” she swallows harshly, “and I know you –I knew you. So I should've known better. But I was so…..caught up in wanting that with you, I guess I’d hoped you changed your mind.” He’d always been so clear that marriage, and maybe even kids, wasn’t something he was very interested in, and for years Y/n had convinced herself that she loved him more than she wanted either of those things.

But then her friends started getting married and having babies, and suddenly, and ache in her yawned open. Was she really going to miss out on half her life for a man who shied away from talking about her after they’d been together for almost three years.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “we could’ve gotten through it, you didn’t have to leave–”

“Well I definitely couldn’t stay,” Y/n cuts him off, tone harsher than she intends, “it was never gonna work out, Andy. We were never getting past that.”

“It was just a misunderstanding,” he re-emphasizes.

“It was more than that,” when she looks up at him again, her eyes are shining and her lips are shaking ever so slightly, “I want something from you that I am never going to get.”

“Why isn't it enough to just be with me?” He asks, long fingers ghosting the side of her face in a touch so heavy it almost isn’t there.

A soft, almost silent scoff breaks her lips and Andrew notes the shine of fresh tears in her eyes. “Would it really be that bad?” Her gaze shifts as she searches his eyes, “Being married to me,” Y/n clarifies in a wounded, hushed tone, “Would it really be that bad?”

Pulling his hand away, Andrew scrubs it over his face, “its not like that,” he promises, “I just don’t get why its important to you.”

Okay, so maybe not anything.

“Why isn’t it important to you?” And just like that, they’re having the same fight they had two years ago, when she said she he couldn’t wait and he’d told her that it didn’t matter if she did. He’s never understood her obsession with marriage, the way Andew sees it, he’s committed to her in every way that matters, getting married will only make things difficult.

Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, Andrew leans back into his chair, “Because I know that I wanna be with you right now, and that’s enough for me. Look,” he suspires heavily, “marriage is tough. Besides people get married all the time and then just get divorced two years later-”

“And some people stay married for fifty years,” Y/n counters defiantly, “so what the fuck is your point?”

“I’m just saying; that might not be us,” he stands and takes a couple steps back to lean against the small round table near the window. When Y/n’s response isn't anything more than an irritated scoff and a glance towards her right, Andrew relents, “maybe I should go.”

“Yeah, you should,” she agrees with haste. She doesn’t look at him as he snatches his pants off the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. The minute shuts the door, though, a hitched sob leaks off her lips and Y/n has to press her hand to her mouth to quiet them. Trying –and failing– to contain her tears, she looks at the picture again and its hard to wrap her head around the fact that the man holding her there, whose arms she’d felt safest in, is the same one seemingly determined to break her heart.

God, she misses him.

Oddly enough, the only comfort she wants at the moment is his. It must be the most visions cycle to be caught in; have him inflict the pain and then seek him out to dress the wounds.

Y/n doesn't know how long she stays there, or how long Andrew lingers in the bathroom, but its long enough for her tears to slow and her legs to start feeling tingly.

At least he's here right now, something in the back of her mind urges. And she doesn't want to leave things the way they are.

Pushing off the floor, Y/n discards the picture on the unmade bed and pads over the bathroom door. “Andy?” Her knuckles hit the cool wood without much force, and after three brief taps, she pressed her cheek to it. “Can I come in?”

She hears the tap turn on and then off again, followed by a brief rustling and then; “yeah.”

He's at the sink, and despite the white hand towel strewn on the counter, his face is still damp and his eyes are red rimmed. His slacks are on the counter too, and it takes a minute before he looks away from his reflection in the wide mirror to regard her. “I thought you might want your shirt back,” she shrugs, fingers fiddling with the top button.

“Yeah, you can just….” He trails off when she starts undoing the buttons, and upon realizing that she isn't wearing anything underneath, he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” she hums, as his shirt slides off her shoulders and billows to the tiled floor. Briefly tipping her chin to meet his gaze, Y/n moves past him, her shoulder brushing his arm.

She slides the door closed, but it doesn't make much of a difference considering it's made of totally transparent glass.

“Fuck,” Andrew drags his lower lip through his teeth. Part of him wants to pick up his clothes and leave; if going back to her after the reception was bad, then this is just down right toxic. But she’s upset, and so is he, and she’s usually the only person he wants to be around when he feels like that.

He thinks there’s a physical pull as he approaches the glass door. Ridding himself of his boxers, he steps into the shower and outstretches his arm to invite her against his chest, and Y/n steps into his embrace. Her arms go around his middle and she presses her cheek to the center of his chest and Andrew smoothens his hand over her wet hair. “I was supposed to be made for you,” Y/n professes softly, “I could’ve sworn it.” Andrew can feel the difference between her tears and the water raining down on them. They’re warmer, they feel like acid on his skin.

Besides, it doesn’t seem right to leave things on a sour note.

What if it really is the last time? It probably won't be, but he doesn't want to leave it to chance.

He doesn't want to leave at all.

He doesn’t know what to say to her; sometimes it feels like she is made for him. The shape of her body is practically molded to fit his, but it's so much more than that. Its the way she laughs at his worst jokes, the way it feels when she runs her fingers through his hair. He’s written songs for her – no other woman has ever been as much of a muse as Y/n has. Its in the small things; like how her laugh is one of his favorite sounds and they like the same kind of wine.

Its in the biggest things; like how he can only stand to have her around when it feels like everything is falling apart around him – or coming together.

Bending his head, Andrew kisses her hair. “I’m sorry,” he utters, realizing, for the first time, that she’s just as caught up in that tangled mess as he is;

they’ll always go back to each other, because there’s nowhere else to go.

yall ever read a fanfic so majestic it completely altered your entire life

I made a baby blanket for a pregnant woman at work and I went back and forth about it like “is this weird? To like hand make something for someone when we’re like friendly acquaintances not like bffs. God why are you so fucking awkward.” Anyway I gave it to her and she said she loved it and in the back of my head I’m like yea she’s nice and probably just humoring the weirdo. Well she texted me a picture this weekend of a scrunchy faced newborn at the hospital wrapped in the blanket I made her. And I’m like. Wow. She loved it so much she took it with her! To the hospital! To give birth! She wrapped her newborn it! I am just so filled with love and joy right now.

People will love the things you make them. Because you thought of them and you cared.

My Girl | Hozier

Summary: Andrew ruins the surprise date that y/n had planned for him.

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Word Count: 2055

Warning(s): Very slight sexual activity, angst if you squint, fluff

Note: I did not edit this so, sorry if the grammar or writing is off. Also, this is my very first one shot. It ended in a different way than I expected and I don't know how to feel about it anymore. Enjoy!

As it was your last day with Andrew before leaving to go back home. You decided to surprise him with a romantic dinner once he got back from the studio. You slaved away all day in the kitchen making his favorite foods. As a testament of gratitude for everything he’s done for you this past month, spent with him in Wicklow. You decorated the dinner table and area all cute, with fairy lights, artificial vines, and scattered petals. You even put on a dress, his favorite, on you, and the lipstick he said made you look like you were touched by Aphrodite.

The time came when he was supposed to arrive and he didn’t. You didn’t want to even consider the possibility of ruining the surprise. So you didn’t call him right away, concluding that he was probably running a bit late like he sometimes does. A couple more hours went by and now the concern in your belly was getting hard to ignore. It was almost 12 am, he said he would be home by 8 pm. So you decided to shoot him a quick text.

Hey baby, everything okay?

He calls you back almost immediately.

“Hey darling, I’m sorry I got carried away and forgot to call you earlier. Me and the team decided to just order some food and eat here. I’ll be home in a bit, do you want me to pick you something up to take back?” He says rushing to get the words out, you hear the shuffling of feet getting away from the sound of banter and laughs.

You smile sadly at his sincerity.

“It’s okay, I get it. But umm…,” You interrupt your own speech as you look towards the beautifully set table and food you kept in the oven to keep warm. “I’m okay, I made dinner earlier, thanks for offering anyway. But you enjoy your dinner!” you continue.

“I am, you enjoy your dinner too-”

“I’ll try. Be safe, yeah?” You quickly respond cutting him off.

“Are you-”

You cut him off again, starting to feel a lump develop in your throat, and that shameful tickle in your chest.

“Hey I gotta go Andrew, don’t want the food to get cold.” you say and hang up before he can say anything else.

Your flight out of Ireland was at 6 am. You weren’t even packed, thinking that after dinner, Andrew could help you, because you knew he’d do most of it for you; as he did with other things. But also because you wanted to spend as much time with him before you left. But with your time of departure nearing, you decided to get a move on it.

By the time Andrew got home it was nearing 3 am. And you were nearly done packing, because you had stayed with him for a little over a month, your things were scattered throughout his house so it took a while. In the midst of you focused, trying to remember everything you had brought, you didn’t hear the front door open.

Andrew walks in quietly, believing that he would find you asleep. He quickly notices a light shining from inside the oven, he hurries over and opens it, thinking you accidentally left it on. But his eyebrows scrunch together when he sees it’s only the light on and his favorite meal in there, untouched.

He stands up straight from his crouching position and walks out to the dining area. He quickly notices the dining table, set with empty plates, wine glasses and the vase with flowers you guys picked together. The almost completely melted taper candles were an indication that you had been waiting for him for a while. 

Once the realization hits him, he mutters a single word.

“Fuck.” he brings his hand to his face, rubbing it over. He turns himself and begins to walk towards the bedroom. But, his guilty conscience makes him look back to the table. His imagination quickly fills of you, wondering just what you must have been feeling. He thinks to blow out the candles but turns his back to them, they’re on their last breath anyway; he thinks.

He carefully opens the bedroom door, still believing you are asleep. But he pauses when he sees you standing there, lost in thought. But beautiful, all dolled up in his favorite dress of yours.

Your eyes shoot to the opening door, and the first thing you notice is his sorry face. Before you can mutter a word, a letter even. He rushes over to you

“Darling, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t know. One of the guys mentioned getting pizza and everybody was on board with it so I agreed and,” he rambles on, both his hands rubbing your arms.

“Why are you leaving me…over that darling, it’s not worth it. I know I fucked up, I know that, I know. But I can fix it, I promise you I will fix it. It was so stupid of me, but it won’t ever happen again.” he continues, one of his hands had made its way to your face, gently cupping your jaw and caressing your cheek.

And then it hits you, he walked in and saw you packing. He must think that you are actually leaving him, he must’ve forgotten your flight back.

Before he can continue, you ease his worry.

“Baby, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m okay, I promise” you say as you look up to him and look into his eyes,you take his torso in your arms and rub him soothingly. His eyebrows furrow together, he’s still confused, he really doesn’t remember.

You take his hand and lead him over to the empty side of the bed free of your luggage. You push his chest lightly, encouraging him to sit down. And he does, pulling you down to sit in his lap. 

“Then…what are you doing?” He asks, one hand sitting on your bum and the other toying with the fabric of your dress.

“I’m leaving, remember, back home.” You say, one arm around his shoulders playing with the loose strands of hair coming out of his bun. 

“Ohh” he lets out a sigh and puts his head into your neck, peppering your collarbone with kisses, mumbling sorrys in between each of them.

“Baby. Baby. Baby” he says, each one spaced out.

“I am so sorry. That I truly forgot about. I am so so sorry. I can’t believe I just let that pass my mind. Oh my god what is wrong with me.” he rambles guiltily.

You remove your hands from his hair and try to coax them into his face, softly lifting him out of the crook of your neck. You give him a gentle smile and give him a soft kiss.

“It’s okay.” you say genuinely, nodding your head.

“No it’s not.” he responds matter of factly.

“You forgot baby, it happens-” you try to reassure him but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Be honest love, how’d it make you feel?” he asks, lips brushing against yours. Your head naturally hangs down, the feeling of humiliation overtaking you once again. But the feeling of his large hand rubbing over your thigh offers comfort for you to tell him the truth, but not enough.

“Ugh” you groan in embarrassment, quickly hugging him so as to not meet his gaze, your cheeks warming with the feeling.

“Oh darling.” he returns the act and rubs your exposed back. “How do I make it up to you baby?” he asks you, and you can tell he means it.

“It’s okay, I mean it.” you state, pulling away and meeting his eyes. He gives you an understanding smile, and brings his hand to your face. Moving your hair from your face and lightly touching your lips, you give his thumb a soft peck.

“You are too good for me.” he admits. You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. You shake your head in disagreement and give his jaw a peck. Your phone buzzes from the bed and he turns and reaches for it, handing it to you. 

“Shit.” you say, getting up and off of him, realizing the time.

“Babe, we have to hurry!” you hurry back to your luggage.

“We have to leave soon or I'll miss my flight.” you throw the last few things in your suitcase.

“Oh yeah” he says, coming over to you. “Let me do that.” he tells you when he sees you trying to close it.

“I’m gonna go get my clothes.” you say and run out to the laundry room, picking up the outfit you planned to wear for your long flight. Walking back into the bedroom, you see Andrew moving your luggage to the floor. You reach to try and unhook the back of your dress when he comes up and hugs you from behind. He then turns you to face him and shamelessly checks you out, his eyes fixed on your cleavage before he speaks.

“ I love this dress.” he says meeting your eyes.

“I know, I can tell.” you giggle.

He leans down, bringing his lips to yours, you tiptoe, trying to make up for the height difference. A passionate makeout ensues, his hands give your bum gentle squeezes. His mouth finds your neck and you release soft moans, almost giving in as he backs you into the bed.

“As much as I would like to babe, I can’t. I have to leave, like now or I’ll miss my flight.” you say breathlessly, your body almost betraying you as his lips make their way from your jaw to your chest. Your hands go to his hair instinctively as he continues to go lower and lower.

“Babe, seriously, we don’t have time” trying to catch your breath, you sit up, forcing him up as well. He gives you a cheeky smile, offering his hand to help you to your feet.

“It’s like you’re trying to keep me from leaving.” you run your hands through your hair in an effort to put yourself together.

“That's exactly what i'm trying to do” he stands with his hands on his hips, just endearingly looking at you, taking you in. You look up to him, and a laugh leaves your mouth when you see your lipstick transferred to his face.

“This would be so much worse if it wasn’t for your beard” you say in between small laughs, circling your mouth, in reference to his. He turns his head towards the mirror and laughs when he catches sight of the damage.

“Yours isn’t any better.” he turns back to you and wipes the tip of your nose that somehow managed to catch the rosy tint. You return the favor, wiping his lips with the best of your ability. Then you rest your hand on his cheek, he turns his head towards it and gives your palm a kiss. You give him a pouty smile, and your chest aches, realizing just how much you don’t want to leave him.

“My girl.” he says, mouth still in your hand. He holds your wrist there for a few more seconds before he gives it one last kiss and gently lets go.

“You’re making this really hard.” you admit. You turn your back to him and step away, not being able to look at him any longer. Your hands go back to small hooks of your dress, when you hear a sigh from behind you.

“At least let me take the dress off of you, one way or another.” he offers, referring to your prior denial of both your unholy desires. You chuckle and let him help, shivering whenever his fingertips meet your skin.

With no time left to spare due to the hour drive to the airport, you slipped on your comfy clothes and grabbed your belongings. The drive there was full of avoidance from the both of you, not wanting to talk about being away from each other. So instead, the conversation was full of the best memories you had in the emerald isle. And once you arrived at the airport, you sat in the car for as long as you could, not wanting a single second to go to waste where you couldn’t be together.

to be alone — a.h.b.

cw: very borderline smut but not really, suggestive, fluff

“shh, go back to sleep.” i feel the bed dip in the wee hours of the morning, his voice a hoarse whisper. it’s a dream, my sleep-addled brain tells me, it’s another dream fueled by loneliness and missing him and being so so cold every night. it’s—

“baby?”

“hmm?”

“you’re not cold, are you?” he slides in behind me, still fully clothed. his soft, worn jeans rubs against my thigh. a second later, he drapes a sweater covered arm over me. “you’ve got goosebumps.”

“you’re a dream,” i mumble, sleep coating each word. his deep laugh resonates all around me, surrounding me like a warm blanket. 

“am i?” he kisses the shell of my ear. “how do you know?”

sleep threatens to take me under once again in the comfort of his arms. his soft sweater is familiar—just the tiniest bit fuzzy, smelling exactly like it always does; of his cologne and fabric softener and him. i smile to myself, this is so far the most realistic dream my brain has produced. 

“hey,” he kisses my shoulder, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

“you’re a dream…” i repeat, “because i’ve had this dream before.”

“oh yeah?” i feel myself being pulled into a chest—so solid and real and warm. his fingers dance on my arms, from my shoulder to my elbow and back up, tickling just a little—not enough to fully wake me up, but definitely enough to hold me there, suspended in a limbo between sleep and consciousness. “what happens in your dream?”

“you come into my bed…”

“like this?” the smile in his voice is prominent. 

“mm-hmm,” i nod and turn, eyes closed, face burrowed into his chest now. his scent surrounds me stronger than before, with new things added to it—faint smell of coffee and the outdoors in general. 

it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream, i chant in my head over and over again till the words meld into each other and turn gibberish. 

“and then?” his voice cuts through my spiral. 

“and then you hold me.”

“i am holding you…” i feel him nod, and yet his arms tighten, pulling me deeper into his chest. the next time he speaks, i feel the vibrations of his voice running through my chest, passing through my heart. 

“and then?”

instead of answering, i focus on his fingers—up and down, up and down. from my shoulders to my elbow and back up.

“sometimes you touch me,” i breathe into his chest, “other times you hold me until i wake up.”

my voice is muffled, barely audible. it’s alright, though. he’s just a dream, a figment of my imagination, a part of me. how could he ever not understand me?

“i touch you?” he laughs, a little smug, and i nod. “how do i touch you?”

i take his hand in mine, trace the pads of his fingers. then i place his hand under my camisole—rough fingers touching my ribs, tracing them individually. he reaches the bottom of my breasts and i sigh. “you touch me like that. like you do when you’re really here…”

“baby i am really here!” he laughs, kissing my head this time. his thumb moves in circles over my ribs. “open your eyes, ‘m right here.”

“‘s a trick,” i mumble. a moment later my mouth finds the hollow of his throat. his skin is slightly cold to the touch, halfway to warming up. against my lips i feel some stubble, like he hasn’t shaved his neck in a day or two. “you’ll disappear if i open my eyes. and i want you to stay. i miss you…” i say, “i can’t wait two more days till you’re home.”

“you don’t have to,” he laughs, giggles almost—it’s a giddy, breathless sound that makes me smile too. 

“you’re a good dream,” i hold onto him tight, relishing how solid he feels in my arms. “the best dream i’ve ever had.”

his hand slips out of my camisole and cradles my cheek. then i feel him tilting my chin up, feel his lips on mine—just one tiny, soft kiss. he smiles against my mouth, says something too but the words don’t fully register in my mind. 

“i’ll see you soon,” i murmur, properly sleepy now, unable to hold on for much longer. 

“you will,” his voice holds a promise. “go to sleep now, i can’t wait to see you in the morning.”

i chuckle at his words. just before sleep properly drags me under, i place my hand on his cheek, feel the familiar beard under my palm and hear him hum. “and you’ll be here in the morning?” i tease, “will you be here as a daydream?”

he threads his fingers through my hair, playing with it till it’s impossible to hold onto consciousness. just as i’m about to slip under, i hear him exhale. “as anything you want me to be,” he murmurs, and i succumb to sleep.

it’s so hard to find fluff and angst fics can we stop being so horny for a second tumblr

I am about to be insufferable (I already am)

HUGE NEWS

‘dinner & diatribes’ — hozier (2019)

😩😭😩😭

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

Keep reading

THIS KIND OF ANGST 😩😩😩

beyond the horcrux

description: regulus black's death wasn't the happy ending you had asked for together.

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

contains: angst, regulus' death, talks of the first wizarding war.

song rec: youth by: daughter- "shadows settle on the place that you left, our minds are troubled by the emptiness"

w.c: 1.4k

an: i'm sorry. i can't seem to stop writing angsty fics...

the room was filled with a suffocating silence, the kind that follows a storm. the curtains danced a solemn waltz in the early morning breeze, their shadows playing across the bare floorboards like ghosts of forgotten memories. the sun had not yet fully risen, but the faint light seeping through the windows painted the room in a cold, pale glow.

your eyes fluttered open, the heaviness of sleep clinging to your lashes like a veil. for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe it was just another ordinary morning. but the emptiness beside you was a stark reminder of the nightmare that had become your reality. the bed, once a sanctuary of warmth and love was now a cold, unyielding witness to your grief. regulus' side remained untouched, the sheets still held the faint scent of him, but the warmth had long dissipated.

with a deep, shuddering breath, you sat up, pushing the covers away. your eyes fell upon his rings on the bedside table, their gleaming surfaces mocking the emptiness of the room. they were a symbol of a promise now shattered, a future lost to the darkness. the weight of his absence pressed down on you, a physical ache that no charm or potion could ever soothe.

you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coldness of the floorboards beneath your bare feet. each step you took towards the window was a silent battle against the tears that threatened to spill. as you reached the sill, you pushed the curtains aside and gazed out into the dawning world. the sun was peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, a stark contrast to the bleakness that filled your heart.

the house was eerily quiet without regulus' comforting murmurs and the patter of his footsteps. it was a stark reminder of the life you had planned together, a life that was now as elusive as a wisp of smoke in the wind. you felt a pang of anger mingle with your sorrow. how could he have been so reckless? so stubborn? but you knew it was his fierce loyalty that had driven him to make that fateful choice.

you padded into the bathroom, the coldness of the tiles sending a shiver down your spine. the reflection in the mirror was a hollow-eyed stranger, a mere shadow of the woman you once were. you reached for the faucet and the water that filled the sink washed away the last remnants of sleep. as you splashed the cold liquid onto your face, you tried to gather the strength to face the day ahead.

the house felt like a tomb, each room a testament to the love you had shared. you wandered through the hallways, tracing your fingers over the photographs that lined the walls, pausing at the one of you and regulus, smiling at the camera. the joy in his eyes was palpable, and you wished with all your might that you could turn back time to that moment, to whisper in his ear and change his fate.

in the kitchen, you found the note he had left you, the ink smudged from your own tears. It was a simple message, yet it held the weight of his sacrifice. "i had to go," it read. "for you, for us, for everyone. i'll come back to you, i promise." but the empty chair at the table was a grim rebuttal to his words, a silent sentinel of his absence.

you made a cup of tea, the warmth of the mug a poor substitute for the warmth of his touch. each sip brought a bitterness that mirrored the taste of regret lingering in your mouth. you had tried to dissuade him, had begged him not to go. but his conviction had been unshakeable. he had to destroy the dark lord's locket.

you took the note with you into the living room, curling up on the couch where you had spent countless evenings with regulus, talking about your dreams and fears. the fireplace was cold, the hearth a silent sentinel of the warmth that used to fill the room. the ashes of past fires whispered of a time when hope had not been so distant.

as you sat there, the quietness of the house grew louder, each tick of the grandfather clock echoing through the emptiness like a mournful heartbeat. you knew you couldn't stay in this state of suspended animation forever. there were things to do, and decisions to make. but the thought of facing the world without him was as daunting as staring into the gaping maw of the veil.

you thought back to the moments of joy you had shared, the laughter that had once filled this space. the memory of your engagement was particularly vivid. his nervous smile as he slipped the ring onto your finger, the way your heart had soared when you realized the depth of his love. you had dreamed of a simple life together, free from the shackles of his family's legacy.

the two of you had talked endlessly about your future, about the children you would have, the adventures you would share. you had picked out names, painted mental images of a cozy cottage with a garden where your love could bloom without the shadow of the dark lord looming over it. but now, those dreams were as fragile as the porcelain figurines on the mantel, shattered beyond repair.

regulus had been so determined to leave his mark on the world, to break free from the chains of his family's fate. he had wanted to be remembered as a hero, not just as the younger brother of sirius black. the irony was not lost on you that he had found his redemption in the very act that had cost him his life.

the wedding plans lay scattered across the coffee table, a bittersweet testament to a future that would never be. the parchment invitations, now just a cruel reminder of what was to come. the guest list, with names of friends and family members who would now be attending a funeral instead of a celebration. the color swatches for the bridesmaid dresses, the menu choices, the seating chart – all of it now felt like a macabre joke played by a twisted fate.

you picked up a quill, the nib hovering over the parchment as you contemplated writing to the guests. but what could you say? that the groom was not coming back? that the love of your life had been claimed by the very darkness he sought to destroy? the ink remained untouched as you set the quill down, the words too painful to form.

the house-elf, kreacher, shuffled into the room, his eyes red and swollen from his own silent mourning. he had been with the black family for generations and had seen the worst of them. but regulus had been different, kinder. he had treated kreacher with respect, and in return, the elf had been fiercely loyal. now, he too bore the weight of his master's loss.

"missus," he croaked, his voice cracking with emotion. "breakfast is ready."

you looked up at him, the sadness in his eyes mirroring your own. "thank you, kreacher," you whispered, the words feeling heavy in your mouth. you had to keep going, for both of you. you had to find a way to navigate the minefield of your shattered life.

with a nod, you followed him into the dining room. the table was set for one, a single plate of toast and jam laid out with meticulous care. it was a stark reminder of the void that now existed where regulus should have been. you took a seat, more out of habit than hunger, and nibbled at the food. each bite tasted like ashes.

the day stretched out before you, an endless sea of empty hours to be filled with sorrow. but as you pushed the food around your plate, you felt a flicker of something else: resolve. regulus had died for a cause, and you would not let his sacrifice be in vain. you couldn't bring him back, but you could honor his memory by living the life he had fought for.

first light — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of bad mental health

“there you are,” i lean against the doorframe, watching him manoeuvre in the darkness. it’s barely past four, barely even light out, and yet there he is, fumbling around the kitchen. 

“shit, did i wake you?” he whispers even though he doesn’t need to, and goes back to what he was doing. 

when i squint my eyes a little i realise he’s gathering supplies for coffee. 

“it’s four…”

he nods, his back to me. 

“in the morning…”

another nod. i push myself off the doorframe and walk up to him. 

his hair is sleep-mussed, his t-shirt more wrinkled than usual, like he's been tossing and turning. i wrap my arms around him and kiss his back. 

“why won’t you look at me?”

he shrugs, i feel the muscles of his back move against my cheek. “‘s dark, love, won’t be able to see you anyway.”

i poke him in the ribs, finally eliciting a response. “we have electricity, you know?”

he sighs, deflates more like it, and finally turns, still in my arms, except now my chin rests on his chest as opposed to his back. i look up, trying to make out his features in the twilight. 

“there,” he pauses, makes it a point to stare right into my eyes, “i’m looking at you now.”

i can make out the vague shape of his face. even as my eyes adjust, and i see the one small curl dropping on his forehead, it’s hard to see the rest of him, hard to see the precise green of his eyes or the russet of his beard. 

“can i turn on the lights, please?”

“no, dont!” he wraps his hand around my wrist, gentle but firm. “this feels better.”

i’m about to say something when the kettle comes to a boil. he turns again and i try not to let him go from my arms but he moves anyway. ultimately, i drop them, letting them hang awkwardly at my sides. 

“coffee?”

“do you not plan on going back to bed?”

“not really, no.”

like always he puts two teaspoons of coffee in the french press, pours the hot water on top. i watch him, still turned away from me, silent, thinking. not entirely there. 

“did you ever go to bed?”

“of course i did, darling,” he laughs airily, “i was right next to you all night.”

“that’s not how i mean it and you know it.” the sternness in my voice surprises us both. still, he doesn’t turn. his shoulders sag, his head bows low, and in the dim light, i see a slight shudder pass through him. 

“i couldn’t…”

“bad dreams?”

“bad dreams?!” he laughs bitterly, “what am i, five?”

worry gnaws at my insides, and i hesitate, wondering how much to push. it’s he who first breaks the silence. “just…thoughts. not bad but not…not very nice ones.”

he clears his throat and goes through all the practiced motions—presses the french press down gently, takes out two mugs, his a plain black, mine littered with hand-painted daisies from one of our date nights. somehow in the darkness he manages not to spill a single drop. instead he lingers, takes a second to himself before he turns and offers my mug to me.

“thanks,” i wrap my hand around it and savour the warmth for just the fraction of a second. “can we sit?”

“i really don’t want to move.”

“right…” i walk up to him, standing side by side until our arms touch, and sit, right there on the kitchen floor with my back against the dishwasher. i have to crane my neck a lot to finally look at him wordlessly, he sits too, moves closer to me until our thighs touch and our arms press against each other. 

he still seems so far away. 

gently i intertwine my fingers with his, tracing the pads of his fingers and the light dusting of hair on his knuckles. “should we talk or would you rather sit in silence?”

“a bit heavy to have this chat at the crack of dawn, don’t you think?”

“i don’t mind it if you don’t,” i take a sip of my coffee and cringe at the lack of sugar. right. it’s black. 

my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed though. for the first time that day, he laughs. no that’s not it, he snorts, like he’s teasing me. “i forgot to put in your million sugars.”

“it’s two!” i protest, “and a splash of milk, it’s nothing outrageous!” but the smile on his face lingers just another moment and a smidge of weight lifts off my chest. 

“things must be…abysmal,” i nudge his knee with mine, “if you forgot how i take my coffee.”

for a while he’s silent, watching as the sky lightens—from dark blue to purple to a smidge of pink and orange. it’s not fully light out yet, but i suspect it won’t be long now. 

“a little,” he admits quietly, like it’s a secret he’s only just revealing. “i’ve been trying to hide it from you. a bit shitty of me, really, i’d be upset if you hid something like this from me. if you were struggling,” he swallows, “mentally. and i didn’t know about it. wasn’t there to help you…”

i bring his hand to my mouth, kiss his palm. “it is…upsetting,” i admit, “but i’d like to know now. or–or whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to talk.”

he sighs deeply, rests his head on top of mine. “maybe when it’s not five in the morning.”

i smile when i hear the laugh in his voice, stare at our intertwined hands and how well they fit together.

“how d’you know it’s five?”

“the sun’s up,” he points towards the window with his mug, and i see it there—the sky, no longer purple with a hint of pink. within a few seconds it seems to have erupted with colours; yellow and orange and red and pink and gold. 

a small ray of sunshine even wanders into our kitchen. 

i look at him, finally visible to me in the first light of the morning. then i kiss his temple and he smiles. it’s a small, tentative thing, but it’s there and it’s real and it stays. 

“there you are,” i whisper, failing to contain a smile of my own. 

“there i am,” he whispers, finally turns to look at me. for a moment his gaze lingers on my lips and i take that as my cue to press my lips against his—mine chapped and dry, his tasting like coffee.

“i think it will be a…decent day,” he declares and sets his empty mug aside. “can we go to bed now?”

“you’d like that?”

“yeah…” he gently touches my cheek with his knuckle and i lean into his touch, closing my eyes briefly. when i open them, he’s staring at me, letting his eyes roam all over my face. “i think i’d love that.”

The Birds & The Bees

*Been a while since I’ve gotten any requests. I’ve been focused on other stuff so it was nice to be back to basics!*

Prompt: David and Snow attempt to give Reader and Felix the talk about the birds and the bees.

Keep reading

kathy's song — a.h.b.

a/n: this is based on one of the songs mentioned in this interview. the prompt is "it looks like it might rain outside". this is quite self indulgent too because @handfulofhoney and i were discussing andrew and gaming (in great detail mind you!!)

cw: weed

“it looks like it might rain outside,” i point to the window, leaning against his chest. a moment later, i feel smoke caress my earlobe, followed by the familiar earthy, grassy smell. 

he hums, voice deeper than before and right next to my ear. 

“should we do something?”

i turn my face, parting my lips a little so he can place the joint between them. the smoke makes warmth bloom in my chest, a minute late, the familiar calm descends. 

“i was thinking about restarting that zelda game we like so much.”

“oh yeah?”

his chest vibrates when he speaks, scattering goosebumps over my arms. a moment later, the first fat raindrop hits the window. 

“would you play with me?”

“you always chuck the joycons at me when the fights get hard,” he snickers, flicking my nose when i wrinkle it at him. the joint dangles between his lips, smouldering. i can’t resist placing a little kiss on his jaw. 

“because you’re so much better than i am!” i whine. 

“how will you get better if you don’t play!”

“is it not enough that i can sit here and cheer you on?”

we both stare at each other, noses almost touching, my side pressed against his chest and my back resting against his knee. a second later he exhales, blowing smoke all over my face. 

“go on, get it then.” he smiles when i whoop, stumbling off the bed to turn the console on and get the joycons.

a moment later i’m back where i was, slotted between his legs and leaning against his chest. the rain gains speed, more fat raindrops hitting the window. it’s the perfect rhythm, i think. or maybe it’s the weed thinking that, making its way through my bloodstream. the world feels slower, softer around the edges. 

i stare at the colours on the starter screen, mesmerised. 

“that’s you,” he points at the screen. i wrinkle my nose and flick him in the shin. “that pig-like monster?!”

“no, you idiot,” he giggles, kissing the shell of my ear and takes another drag of the joint. i have a sudden and visceral urge to kiss him, to feel that smoke entering my lungs. 

“that old man. you’d love to be unnecessarily cryptic and sit by the fire roasting apples.”

i hmph, unable to contradict really because he is right. a second later he turns my face to his as if he’s read my mind and kisses me. his lips feel warm from the smoke, soft from my lip balm that he keeps stealing. his beard tickles a little and i laugh. 

when he lets go, he holds the spliff in front of my lips, letting me take a small drag. 

the sound of the rain fills the room, along with the click of my joycons. link grunts every few seconds, in the middle of a fight and slashing at enemies left and right with a measly rusty sword. every few seconds he leans and kisses my neck. 

“tickles,” i laugh, “you’re being very distracting.”

“am i? i thought you were a pro at this.”

i briefly let go of the joycons, twisting my hands into his t-shirt and kiss him again. it’s a leisurely, slow kiss—mostly indulgent and lazy and soft. he cradles my face in one hand, holding the joint far away from us so he won’t burn one of us on accident.

a second later a thwack echoes in the room and we break apart, giggling, laughing louder when the ‘game over’ screen blinks at us. 

“look at that, you’ve killed link!” i poke his chest. 

he traces his thumb over my lip, dragging it down and letting it go. “i guess i am being distracting.”

i take the joint from his hands, handing him the controllers in return. “go on. your turn.”

“and what will you do?”

“stare at the rain, i think.”

i look behind me and out the window. it’s raining in sheets by now. so hard i can barely see the neighbour’s house anymore. the trees outside sway lightly, leaves dancing under raindrops. my head feels heavy, so do my eyelids. i could fall asleep like this, cocooned by the warmth of his body and surrounded by his smell. 

“you’d fall asleep,” he catches me instantly. or maybe it’s that my eyelids are already drooping and i’ve turned into a ball against his body. 

“would that be so bad?”

he hums, threading his fingers through my hair, tucking a stray strand behind my ear. i smile at his tenderness. 

“you’ve played two minutes of the game you insisted on playing!”

i pout at him, hoping the big eyes would have some effect on him. a second later he rolls his eyes and tucks my face into his chest. i feel him take the joint out of my hands, put it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. 

“this was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it!”

i shrug, already snuggling into him, as cosy as i can be while he restarts the game, goes through the same motions i was before but at a much faster rate. and even when my eyes close of their own accord, i can tell where he is in the game based on the soundtrack alone. 

“that’s you,” i point blindly at the screen. he pauses. 

“that…apple tree?”

“noooo,” i laugh, properly slurring my words. “link. brave knight rescuing the princess and everything. from nasty boss fights in your case.”

“alright, princess,” he chuckles and kisses the crown of my hair. “go sleep now. i’ll wake you up if something interesting happens.”

"Kamala Harris raised 50+ million dollars after Biden dropped out!" you fools.... that's the money she got from selling Biden to One Direction :(

headcanon that Bruce now sends out mass communications whenever he makes a change to the layout of his utility belt because of that one time he was taking too long talking to Gordon so Dick helped himself to his belt for a granola bar and ended up mistakingly flashbanging himself

MY PARENTS’ RINGS

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have been “married” since childhood.)

tags: flufffff, slight angst, mentions of death.

masterlist here!

You’ve known Carl since you were born. Your moms were bestfriends from high school who’d miraculously gotten pregnant around the same time which, naturally, made you best friends as well. You can’t remember your guys’ first play date, you’d been having sleepovers with him every weekend as well.

Around kindergarten, there was an activity in class where you guys could make jewelry. Carl at the time was completely in love with you, although then you weren’t particularly interested in boys and were more interested in exploring and adventures, you needed someone to go on adventures with.

So, when he’d walked up to you on the playground with the ring he made very poorly, your five year old brain knew exactly where it was going. He proposed to you right there in the pokey wood chips under the slide which by the way was covered in cobwebs. How romantic. You thought that if he’d gone on many adventures with you previously, if he was your husband he’d be forced to be your adventure partner. So you said yes. On the condition he’d be by your side for all your escapades. “Anything for you angel.” He responded.

He held you to it, too. He’d continue to call you his wife and angel, a nickname that’d stick for the rest of your childhood. Everyone knew how much he’d loved you and how much he protected you from anything that could possibly harm you in any way. There was a spider in your room? He’d kill it. Someone was bothering you? He’d help you work it out. You got in an argument with your parents? He was close enough with them to argue with them for you. You ended up helping him through the death of his own father who was also someone you’d looked up to for a long time.

Then, the apocalypse started. You were at Carl’s house with Lori when Shane had arrived to round everyone up. They’d return back to your house to rally up your parents but when Shane went inside to get them, you heard his gun go off a couple times.

He walked out that house alone with a big frown on his face.

So you sobbed the whole time and Carl cuddled your side, holding your hand and occasionally shed some tears. He helped you process it, granted you both were ten but he knew what it was like to lose a parent. When Rick came back, he apologized oddly enough. “Angel…I’m sorry my dad came back.” He told you as you hid in the blanket on your cot that was set up in the Grimes’ tent. You flipped over on your side to look at him. “Why did yours get to come back and not mine?”

Your guys’ “marriage” hit a rough patch to say the least. At some point, Carl walked up to Rick with the dilemma. “My wife is mad at me…how do you make mom feel better?” He asked. Rick informed Lori on the situation and she helped you understand. So from there you dropped your little grudge and realized that you loved Carl back. It only took you maybe five years and yeah you were quite young to know you loved him the way you did, but he was the only person in your life who’d stay consistent; even with the world dying.

A good amount of time had passed, when Shane died the first thing you wanted to do was take anything he possibly had on him. So, you took his 22 necklace and his jacket. Handling his dead body that young wasn’t ideal but you needed to remember him. You shoved his necklace in your pockets and threw his jacket on before escaping from the walkers flooding into the farm.

Upon finding safety, you pull out Shane’s necklace to discover he’d kept your parents rings on his necklace. You didn’t say anything about it, you hid them for the right time. He’d notice them later but he kept quiet about it.

You’d gone through the prison, then Terminus. It felt like Carl had never stopped touching you throughout everything. He was holding your hand or maybe even had his hand gripping your thigh. He’d reassure you by holding you or kissing your cheek repeatedly. He made sure you were well fed while you and the group were on the road after losing Beth. “Here, Angel, take this.” He handed you half of his granola bar.

“Angel, need some water to wash that down?” Abraham nudged a water bottle your way, Carl looked at him funny which caught a couple people’s attentions. Abraham looked around. “What?” He questioned. No one really responded but Tara spoke up, clearing her throat awkwardly before speaking. “I’ve uh…I’ve learnt that ‘Angel’ is just a Carl thing.” She explains. Abraham processes and Rick sort of laughs. “Yeah I’ve known her since she’s was born…he won’t even let me call her that either.” He looks to Carl with a teasing smile, prompting the others to sort of smirk and giggle themselves. “Well my apologies.”

Carl gives Abraham a forgiving nod.

Getting to Alexandria was like a breath of fresh air. You and Carl were able to be somewhat of a normal teenage couple who could go on dates and make out in places they shouldn’t. He helped ease your nerves with the new environment, despite his own considering he didn’t know how real Alexandria really was.

He’d fallen more and more in love with you. At some point he’d brought up your kindergarten marriage.

“Do you remember when you said yes when I proposed to you in kindergarten?” He smiled at you as you leaned your head on his shoulder. The two of you were stargazing on a bench by Alexandria’s pond. “Yeah you’ve never let me forget it.” You respond with a small giggle. He pulled back to look at you. “Well I was thinking…with the way the world is and everything.” He chuckles nervously, looking down at your hands which were tightly gripping each other’s, “Maybe we can really be married.”

He stared at you, anticipating your answer. “Well, I dunno what you mean, we’ve been married this whole time.” You say sort of jokingly, causing him to smile, “I think you just mean official rings. I mean we’ve held the label this whole time. Not to mention you’ve stuck to your vows.” You remind him of how he’d promised to stick with you throughout everything. He nods for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face as he admires how beautiful you are in the light of the pretty moon. “Official rings would be nice.”

Without another word, you pulled your hand away, causing Carl’s expression to drop a tad as you dig into your pocket. Your hand comes back out of your jeans in a fist and you stick your hand out, gesturing for him to put his own out. He places his hand out flat and you drop two rings, the metals knocking into each other with a small clink as he looks into your eyes. “Wait really? Aren’t these…” His voice trails off and he looks at you intently.

“My parents’ rings.”

There’s a moment of silence before you take your dad’s ring from his palm and take his left hand, slipping it gently onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly, almost like it was fitted to him. He looks at it for what felt like ages before taking your mother’s ring in his hand. He gently held your left hand, sliding it on to your ring finger. The two of you put your hands between your bodies and just stare.

He tilts his head back up to look at you and before you could fully look at him he kissed you, gently holding the side of your face while he did so.

It was one of the thousands of kisses he’d given you, but this one was different.

Maybe you could go on honeymoon.

a/n: so anon actually wanted this full of fluff but i couldn’t help myself with some parts of angst LMAOOO sorry anon i hope u still like it. i actually think this is the cutest fucking thing i’ve written in a long ass time I LOVEEE IT SM!!! also for those who’ve been waiting for let me make it up to you part two THAT SHITS BEEN OUT idk not as many ppl saw it and there’s sm smut in that shit >_< anyway thank u sm for this cute ass request it was so fun to write and it got me out of my writing funk :)))

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

Imagine saying something to Red Hood and he BENDS DOWN TO HEAR YOU BETTER

With that little “Hm?”

Storm.

Pairing: Homelander x Supe!F!Reader

Summary: You are a supe, part of The Seven and Homelander's girlfriend. What started as a PR relationship, turned into a real relationship when Homelander managed to wear you down. Now you were pregnant with his baby. The first supe baby, born from two supe parents.

Warning: Homelander. Heavy swearing. Toxic and abusive relationship. Homelander''s weird milk thing. Body shaming(of A-train)

Homelander was completely and utterly fucking infatuated with you from the mere second you joined The Seven. He wanted you from the second his eyes landed on you. And like always, Homelander got his way. It took a few months, lots of persuasion, and a forced PR relationship before he finally wore you down.

It was months into your fake relationship that you gave in to the many advances he made toward you. One night together and your whole fucking life changed. Before you knew it, you were his and there wasn’t a single thing you could do. You just had to accept it.

The man was nearly obsessed with you. He wanted you by his side all the time. And when he couldn’t have you with him, he’d track your phone and constantly text you. He dictated who you talked to, what you wore, what you did. Every last thing of your life.

You had learned to live with it, and a part of you had started to get feelings for the man. Almost like Stockholm syndrome. You couldn’t help but love the only man who gave you love and attention.

But things for you quickly turned upside down when you found out you were pregnant. You went to doctors within Vought, when your powers started acting out. The live electricity inside your body ran wild. Like a live wire and sometimes you barely had control over it.

That’s when they informed you the baby inside your womb was interfering with your powers, short-circuiting you. You didn’t believe them until they showed you the sonogram. A baby. Your baby. You were left confused and scared when they told you, you were four weeks pregnant.

You knew supes could have children. There were many supes who had children with none supes. But their was no baby with two supe parents. And with the tight leash Homelander had on you, only he could be the father.

You had always wanted children but many years ago, Vought told you, you couldn’t have children. Because, unlike most supes, you weren’t injected with compound V. You were a test tube baby just like Homelander. Neither of you was supposed to be able to procreate and it left you even more confused in scared.

So much so, that it was now two weeks later and you still hadn’t uttered a word to Homelander. He wasn’t stupid, he quickly realized something was wrong with you. He could see and smell the change in your body. And soon he’d be able to hear it.

For a few days now, he could hear a soft thud, a heartbeat that grew stronger every day. He was unable to find the source and it was driving him crazy. Unaware he was hearing the development of his baby’s heartbeat.

It was in The Seven’s meeting room, on a Monday morning when everything came out from under wraps. You were sitting with the rest of the group, listening to Homelander go on and on about the weeks stats.

He was visibly irritated and growing even more irritated by the second. His ranting was cut off by a long silence as he inhaled sharply. His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes, taking another deep breath.

“What’s that sound?” He asked in a low voice as his gaze darted around the room.

Everyone looked between each other and Homelander in confusion. “What sound?” Maeve asked as she stared up at him with furrowed eyebrows, her head tilting to the side.

“A heartbeat.” He muttered in a low voice, and it didn’t even register in your mind what he was getting at. There were a lot of people in the room with beating hearts and you weren’t aware the tiny baby inside had started developing its own.

Maeve’s eyes squinted as she looked at Homelander like he had gone crazy. Everyone in the room did. “Well, there’s six breathing people with heartbeats in here with you…” She muttered as she glanced between the rest of you.

“I can hear seven.” He muttered and at that very moment, it clicked inside your head. Your heart clenched in your chest and Homelander’s gaze accusingly shot towards you. He stared you down as he focused on you, realizing the sound was coming from you.

“What?” Starlight questioned his words as her eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head as she shared a confused look with Maeve.

You struggled to tear your eyes away from Homelander’s piercing gaze. You softly cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your chair. “I have to go to the bathroom.” You muttered softly as you felt a wave of nausea rise up in the back of your throat.

You felt Homelander’s scorching hot gaze on you as you rushed out of the room. As you stalked down the hall, there were sparks of blue coming from your hands, and the lightbulbs on the ceiling and walls burst as you passed them. Everyone in the hallway was lucky it was only the bulbs and not them being fried to a crisp.

You rushed into the bathroom and as you burst into a stall and fell to your knees, you brought up everything you had eaten that morning. The lights in the room flicked and then went eye-blinding bright before the bulbs burst.

When you were done, you grabbed toilet paper and wiped your mouth. You listened as the door to the bathroom slowly creaked open and heavy footsteps entered. You sighed softly, tossing the toilet paper in the toilet and flushing before you got up to your feet.

With a deep breath, you stepped out of the stall, your gaze immediately meeting Homelander’s. he stood near the door, hands clasped together behind his back and his jaw tightly wired shut. He silently stared at you for a second, his face eerily blank of emotion.

You stood at the entrance of the stall, eyebrows knitting together with fear as you stared back at him. His eyes squinted as his head tilted to the side. “How long have you known?”He asked in a low voice.

You took a shaky breath as your gaze diverted to the ground. “Homelander-” You spoke up, trying to explain yourself to him, but you were quickly cut off by him.

“How fucking long?” He repeated his question, his voice louder now as he took two small steps closer to you. Steps that terrified you.

You silently stared at him for a second before taking a deep breath, your heart completely sinking into the pit of your stomach. “Two weeks.” You whispered as your gaze diverted down to the ground again.

“Two weeks? Two fucking weeks?” He snapped his eyes getting eerily wide as he stared at you. His arms dropped to his sides and his hands clenched into fists. “And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?” He questioned as he raised his eyebrows.

You look up at him again, your head tilting to the side as you sigh, shaking your head. “I-” You desperately tried to explain yourself but he didn’t give you a second to explain yourself. He didn’t want your excuses, he just wanted answers.

“Is it mine?” He asked in a low voice, his head tilting to the side as he took a few more steps closer towards you. His steps were extremely slow yet so determined that it scared you even more.

Your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback by the question. “What?” You asked softly, confused about why he would question your loyalty towards him. At the very least, that was something you always gave him. Even in the beginning when your relationship was a PR stunt, you were loyal to the end.

You gasped as Homelander launched forward. His arm stretched out, his hand wrapping around your neck. He yanked you out of the stall and slammed you against the wall beside it. “Did you let someone else fuck you?” He asked in a low voice as he leaned his face inches away from yours. “Is that why you’re scared to tell me?” He asked as his lips pulled back into a snarl.

“No!” You snapped as blue sparks ran through your vein and Homelander gave you a pointed warning look. You knew better than to shock or electrocute him. And even if your raging hormones did fuck up your powers, you still managed to settle the electricity running through your veins, with just one look from the man.

“Is it mine?” He asked you in a low voice, his grip tightening around your neck. If you were any mere human, he’d have snapped your neck in half, but to you, his grip was barely enough to leave a bruise. “Is it fucking mine?” He repeated his question when you didn’t answer fast enough

“Yes, it is.” You replied with a slight nod of your head and his grip loosened around your neck. You shoved his hand away before stepping towards the bathroom sink, rinsing out your mouth with the cold water.

“Because I’m scared!” You snapped as you turned around to face him, and he was ever so slightly taken aback by your outburst of emotions. You had always been good at keeping yourself calm and collected. This was a new sight for him. “I’m fucking scared!” You yelled, your voice cracking as your eyes filled with tears.  “They told me I couldn’t ever have children! And now here I am and I don’t fucking know what’s going on!” You ranted as you sighed deeply. “I’m scared…for the first time in my life, I’m scared.” You admitted.

He watched you, his hands clasped together behind his back again. His jaw clenched for a second. “Then why the fuck did you not tell me?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows.

He silently stared at you for a second before stepping closer. He leaned down so that his face was inches away from yours and he stared into your eyes. “You should have come to me the second you found out.”  He muttered in a low voice. “I fucking deserved to know.”

You sighed as you lowered your head, sniffing softly and wiping at your teary eyes. “I know…I’m sorry.” You whispered as you shook your head.

Homelander took hold of your chin and lifted your head until your gaze met his. “You will not keep this baby from me, if that was your plan.” He warned as he slowly shook his head before pulling you closer. “I will rip it from your fucking womb if I have to, but you won’t keep it from me.” He threatened.

You took a shaky breath, knowing Homelander didn’t bluff. You sniffed again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You whispered as you stared up at him with blurry eyes. “I was planning to…I was just waiting for the right time.” You explained before reaching out and taking his hand into yours and placing it against your stomach. “It’s our baby… I won’t keep it from you.” You assured.

Homelander stared down at your stomach, eyes slightly widening when he focused on the heartbeat of your baby. His baby. His lips parted and you swore you could almost see awe in his eyes. He was completely starstruck by what was inside your womb.

Homelander was truly fucking proud of this accomplishment. A baby that will be born from two supes. A baby the first of its kind. His baby.

He was proud enough of this baby, to force Madelyn to call a press meeting to reveal the joyful news to the world. Every news outlet in America was standing in front of the small podium that was set up in front of the Vought building. A few fans had arrived as well.

It was only you and Homelander on the podium. He stood in front of the microphone and you stood next to him, gaze drifting over the many people who had showed up to hear your news. You couldn’t believe so many people cared about supe news. About news regarding you and Homelander.

“You might all be wondering why we’re standing up here today.” Homelander began speaking as he looked over the crowd. “We have some very exciting news to share.” He informed them as he glanced at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his side.  “As you all know, me and Y/n have been going steady for a while now, and we have just received news that we are expecting a baby together.” He said.

The crowds of fans went absolutely crazy. They cheered and screamed for you and Homelander. Camera’s flashed from the news crews and a few congratulations were shouted out from both crowds of fans and news crews.

 “Thank you,” Homelander called out as a proud smile tugged at his lips and he held up a single hand to quiet the people down. “Now you have all heard of supes being made by compound V, or supe babies being born from a supe and normal human.” He said before inhaling sharply and shaking his head. His arm unwrapped from your waist and he laced a hand on your stomach, making more cameras flash. “But not our baby. Our baby is the first to be born from two supes. It has been made by our love and will grow in its mother’s womb. It will not be made from an injection, but born from this wonderful woman.” He spoke before turning his head to face you, flashing you a smile. You returned his smile and reached out, placing your hand on top of his, making more cameras flash.  “This…this is an important and remarkable thing.”

The crowds cheered again and then a few questions were asked by the news crew. General questions, about how far along you were, if you knew the gender, if you two wanted a boy or girl. After all was answered everything was wrapped up.

New spread fucking quickly and twenty minutes later your and Homelander’s baby was trending number one on every social media platform. Everyone was talking about the baby, your baby. You had always gotten a lot of attention as not only a supe but as part of The Seven. But now you got an overwhelming amount of attention from everyone surrounding you.

The most overwhelming and overbearing was Homelander. He now micro-managed your life even more than before. And he was around you almost twenty-four hours of the day. In completed total, you have maybe an hour's worth of time to yourself throughout the day.

You sat in the living room of Homelander’s penthouse. After finding out you were pregnant, he had you move in with him permanently. He stepped inside, returning from a meeting with the rest of The Seven. You were on maternity leave, even if you were barely just entering your second trimester now. Homealnder’s orders. He didn’t want you or the bay anywhere near danger.

He walked into the living room, eyebrows furrowing at the box of pizza lying on his coffee table. He stared at it for a second before turning to stare at you. “What’s this?” He asked as he pointed down at the box.

You glanced at the box and then at Homelander, eyebrows furrowing. “Pizza?” You replied softly as your head slightly tilted to the side.

His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath as he glared at you, his eyes squinting. He reached down and opened the pizza box, lips twitching into a snarl when he saw it was empty. “You’re feeding our kid this fucking junk?” He questioned as he slapped the box off the table and turned his glare back to you.

You stared at the box on the ground before turning to look at Homelander, standing up with a huff. “It’s your fucking kid that wants it.” You snapped at him as you ran a hand over your growing bump. “It’s all it wants.” You muttered as your lips pouted out into a frown.

Homelander took a step towards you and placed a hand on your stomach. While his touch was gentle his demeanor towards you was still very much hostile. “You are supposed to be taking care of our child inside you.” He muttered in a low voice. “Pizza is not fucking taking care of it.” He gritted out as he stared at you with his usual eerie wide eyes glare.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “For fuck sake, pizza is not going to hurt it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

Homelander sighed deeply in agitation. “I don’t care how much you or the baby wants pizza, from now on you’re eating fucking healthy.” He ordered as he gave you a pointed look. “I don’t want a kid with a gut the size of A-train’s.” He snapped.

He turned around and walked off towards the bedroom with his hands clasped together behind his back. You sighed again and looked down at you bump, softly running a hand over it. “It’s okay, what daddy doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” You whispered to your baby.

Homelander turned around at the entrance of the bedroom door. “I can fucking hear you.” He informed you as his jaw clenched.  “Do not test me on this, Y/n.” He warned as he pointed a finger at you before turning back around again and going into the bedroom.

You rolled your eyes and plopped yourself down on the couch. Nothing got easier as your pregnancy progressed. Homelander was even more controlling and more protective. But he was dotting on you, you would at the very least give him that.

He was aware of every change in your body before you were even aware, and he was very conscious of both your and the baby’s health. He was always listening in on both your heartbeats and using his x-ray vision. That’s how you both came to know, that even now at four months, your baby was like the two of you.  He was a supe.

Like most nights, Homelander lay with his head on your lap, ear pressed against your small growing bump. He truly did love hearing your baby’s heartbeat. Just like he noticed every other change in your body, he noticed when your milk was starting to come in.

With his head on your lap, he stared up at you. Your eyes were fixated on the tv screen that played some old supe movie, but you were extremely aware of Homelander’s eyes on your face. You tried to ignore him but it was hard when one of his hands reached up and brushed over one of your breasts.

“Your milk is coming in.” He commented.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your gaze shot towards him. “Yeah…” You muttered with a slow nod of your head.

“I can smell it.” He informed you as his gaze focused on your breasts.

Your head tilted to the side and your eyes squinted. By now you should have been used to Homelander not having a filter but sometimes he still managed to catch you off guard. “That’s not a fucking strange thing to say to the mother of your child.” You muttered softly as you raised your eyebrows at him.

His gaze met yours for a brief second before returning to your breasts, his hand still brushing over them as well. He seemed almost fascinated and intrigued. “It smells…like vanilla.” He commented and your eyebrows furrowed again. He was silent for a second before his lips parted.“Bet it tastes like vanilla too.” He added.

You stared down at him in confusion. This wouldn’t be the last time he has a facination with your breasts or your breasts milk. As more milk comes in, the more fasinated he becomes. You began pumping right before your due date and more than once did you catch Homelander drinking your stored milk.

It was after the second time you caught him and complaining about aching breasts, that he suggested something that would benefit you both. It took a lot of persuasion and even threats before Homelander got his way.

Before you knew it, every night he would lay his head gently on your bump and drink any milk that you didn’t pump for the day. The first few times you hated it, but you would admit it brought a great relief to your aching breasts. And then you just got used to it.

Admittedly, the ‘bonding’ time between you and Homelander did bring you closer and brought something new to your relationship. Now you were dependent on each other in more ways than one. And you were both fucked in the head in more ways than one.

Soon you were preparing for the birth of your son. Everyone inside the delivery room was on fucking edge as Homelander watched their every move. He questioned every action they made, every tool they picked up, and every word they said. And he nearly fucking killed the male doctor when he went to check how far dilated you were when you first got to the delivery room.

Your delivery only got worse once you were in active labor. You had burst every lightbulb in the room at first and then caused a power outage on the whole grid. But it wasn’t just your powers stirring up. While giving birth, a massive storm had settled in the skies. A sunny and warm sky turned to dark clouds with heavy downpour and lightning within mere seconds.

Your son was born screaming and the storm outside grew heavier. It was only when he was placed on your chest that both he and the storm outside calmed down.

Homelander followed the nurses like a shadow as they cleaned the baby and ran some necessary tests to make sure he was healthy, as both a baby and a supe. You were resting in the room when Homelander came back, cradling the newborn in his arms. “My son.” He spoke softly to the baby as a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re perfect.”

You sat up in the hospital bed as Homelander approached you, carefully placing the baby in your arms before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He needs a name.” You said softly, smiling down at your baby who slept soundly in your arms.

Homelander hummed in agreement as he stared down at the baby. “Storm.” He muttered softly as his eyes flicked towards yours while his hand reached out to cup the back of the baby’s head.

“Storm?” You repeated as you looked at him, your head tilting to the side and your eyebrows furrowing.

“Did you fucking look out the window when you were giving birth?” He questioned with a blank expression on his face as he quirked an eyebrow, nodding his head in the direction of the large window by your bedside.

You pursed your lips as you stared at the man. “No, I was a little preoccupied.” You muttered with a roll of your eyes before your gaze turned to your baby. Being test tube babies raised in a lab, neither you nor Homelander had a childhood. And you didn’t want that for your son. You wanted him to have at least some sense of normality. “Storm…and Liam.” You replied and Homelander’s eyebrows furrowed at the second name. All supes had a second name, a normal name.  “He needs a normal name too…a normal childhood.” You explained softly.

“He’s not normal, he’s a pureblooded supe.” Homelander reminded you as his head cocked to the side and you could see the muscles in his jaw grow tighter as he stared at you.

You sighed, your lips pulling into a tight line as you stared back at Homelander. “He’s a baby.” You reminded him softly. “Just like we were…and look how fucked up we are.” You muttered, referring to growing up with no real childhoods.

Homelander stared at you for a second before his gaze flicked down to his son. You could almost see his expression soften and he slowly nodded in agreement. As he went to finish all the last documents and birth certificate, you stayed in the room. Storm was sleeping next to you on the bed as you sat on the edge, watching the news.

Every news channel announced the arrival of your baby boy. People were lining up the Vought building with flowers and gifts, leaving them around the building. A plane with a banner flew through the air, announcing a boy had been born and people even set off blue fireworks.

Ashley stepped inside the room and her face lit up at the sight of the TV screen. No doubt she had a hand in all this extravagance. “It’s like a fucking royal from Biritan was born.” You muttered as you stared at the TV.

Ashley’s turned to you as a big grin spread across her lips. “I know, it’s fucking amazing, right?” She said and you quirked an eyebrow, staring at her with a blank look that quickly wiped off her smile.

You had but little choice to introduce your son to the world. To the thousands of people waiting outside the Vought building. Homelander cradled your son in one arm and held his other arm out for you to hold onto for support.

Not even supes were immune to the exhaustion, pain, and discomfort of birth. You held onto Homelander’s arm with a tight grip, plastering a smile on your face as you stepped outside the Vought building.

Screaming fans greeted you, and paparazzi were everywhere, taking pictures from nearly every angle. It was chaos. Chaos that disturbed your son from his peaceful sleep. Soon, light and sunny blue skies turned dark, and heavy rain poured down on the streets as your baby wailed from all the noise surrounding him.

You looked up at the darkened skies and then at the people running for cover from the rain. Then your gaze turned to Homelander who proudly smiled down at his son. His gaze then met yours as his smile grew. “See…Storm is the perfect name.” He commented and you chuckled in agreement as your gaze turned to the baby again.

how dare you interrupt my tumblr oneshot fanfic reading time? i literally need to have my tumblr oneshot fanfic reading time. why would you interrupt my tumblr oneshot fanfic reading time?

the work printer cries out, "no stop, that's too much! youre gonna make me jam!" as i load a full ream into her tray, but it's too late. "see, you can take it. you're doing such a good job for me." i coo into her feeding tray as i begin printing the morning reports. her warning lights turn red as she moans in i assume ecstacy