say sober

anonymous asked:

Please please please write a fanfic on this!!! Please!!!! :D :D 'Delia often has very painful periods, but at some point after they move in together they discover that sex is the best pain reliever. Its almost always one-sided, but Patsy is so happy Delia isn’t in body-bending pain anymore she doesn’t mind at all.' PLEASE!!!!

There were too many !!!’s I had to do it!

4,000 words later the new chapter will be up tomorrow… You know what they say write drunk, edit sober ;) 


episode two :: Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.  

Victor doesn’t even try to go to sleep.  He just lays in bed with his laptop, watching the thirty-seven takes of Yuuri trying to get “hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the Bachelor” out of his mouth.

Don’t they know who I am?” Yuuri slurs on screen.  

Yuuri, you have to put the champagne bottle down, you have to pretend to be sober,” Phichit says off camera, all authority gone from his voice.  He’s trying not to laugh.

Phichit,” Yuuri says, and he takes a big swig from the bottle, bubbles pouring down both sides of his lips. “You can’t tell me what to do.  I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the motherfucking Bachelor.

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anonymous asked:

Hi, I just wanted to say the the gods & monsters series is one of the most wonderful things I've read. I know that some already have Hades in them but could you please do one about Hades and Persephone meeting? That would be amazing, thank you

Apollo comes to her, warm and smiling. He likes her body, its gentle curves, the flawless skin, how it shines with the youth and strength of spring. He is the sun and she is the earth, and it is from his rays that she gains her strength, and it would be expected of them to love each other. The god is golden, from his skin to his hair to his mischievous eyes, and there is not an inch of him that is not as lovely as the rays of sunlight peeking through the leaves.

Kore is not stupid. She knows Apollo does not linger, that she will be a wife in name and little else; he will lie with her and worship her and then grow bored of her.

Hermes comes to her, eyes sharp and hands gentle. He likes her mind, her acuteness, the way she views the world as a gem cutter would a raw emerald. He is wings and air and she is firmly rooted in the earth, she is as far from him as one can be, but his skin and hers are the exact same shade and she finds the shape of his mouth pleasing. She likes the way he considers her his equal.

But Hermes is meant to fly, spends his time carrying messages for Zeus and meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. He may be a fine enough man, but he’s no husband.

She has two offers – each from powerful gods, each attractive and clever. There’s no reason she should find them both as unappealing as congealed chicken fat, yet she does.

“I do not often find you alone,” a deep, feminine voice says, and Kore suppresses a sigh as she turns to greet the approaching woman. She sits deep in the forest under a blossoming apple tree, but this is not her dominion alone.

“I am not often alone,” she concedes, observing the blood soaked goddess. “I’m assuming none of that is yours?”

Artemis doesn’t have enough hair to toss it over her shoulder, but she runs a hand through it, pushing it out of her face and streaking it copper in the process. “Of course not. I hope you weren’t too attached to the bucks of this forest.”

“Animals are not my concern,” she answers, “Besides, I am the goddess of spring, and therefore am born from death. It would be foolish of me to reject that which bore me.”

“Funny you should say that,” she says, “since all of Olympus is gossiping about how desperately you seek to leave the sanctuary of what bore you.”

Kore raises an eyebrow. Artemis is clumsy with her words, but she supposes the woman has never had a need to be otherwise. There are few as transparently straightforward as the huntress. She smiles, “Perhaps it is more funny, dear cousin, how easily the words prison and sanctuary become entangled.“

Artemis crosses her arms and sucks her lower lips between her teeth. “No,” she says finally, sobering, “I don’t think that’s very funny at all.”

Kore arranges her skirts around her, the green of the thread and that of the grass nearly identical. “If you’re here to plead your brother’s case for my hand, I’m willing to listen.”

The huntress snorts, derisive, and Kore raises an eyebrow. “I would not recommend my brother’s hand,” she says, “There are other parts of his anatomy which leave many satisfied, however, if that falls within your interests.”

“I am a more desirable bride as a virgin,” she answers instead of saying that the thought of touching a man she does not love makes her skin crawl. Artemis laughs as if she just told a joke, but if so Kore is ignorant of the punchline.

She does not know if she could love either Hermes or Apollo, at least not for the eternity that marks a god’s impossibly long life. It would result in a rather lackluster love making, which is presumably their main goal in pursuing her.

She dislikes her options. Behind her is the gilded cage of her mother’s overprotectiveness, and ahead of her lies the gilded cage of a loveless marriage.

“Kore,” Artemis says, frowning, “if – if you are to defy Demeter, you must go someplace that she cannot enter, a place where her magic cannot reach you.”

“Where might that be?” Kore asks dryly, “She is as I am – all that grows from this earth is our domain. Perhaps in the sea I could hide from her, but Poseidon is no friend of mine and has no reason to grant me asylum.”

Artemis shrugs, a wry twist to her lips. She cracks her neck on either side and walks back from where she came, but not before calling out over her shoulder, “I guess there is no such place Kore, goddess of spring, born of death and Demeter.“

Kore is still for a long time, staring at the place where Artemis stood.

Perhaps she is not so clumsy with her words after all.


Slipping away from her mother’s watchful eye is always monstrous task, even more so since the rumors of her proposals, but she manages. She finds the River Styx and follows it against its current, walking past and through all the warning sign that she’s gone too far, ignores the prickle along her skin as she crosses the threshold from this world to the next.

Almost immediately she comes across a hooded figure standing besides a small boat. “Charon,” she greets confidently. She tries to catch a peek under his hood, but he tilts his head away from her and manages to give the impression that he’s frowning at her even though she can’t see his face. “I need passage across the river.”

“You are not dead, lady goddess,” he says.

She holds out a shiny gold coin, “I can pay.”

“You are not dead,” he repeats, “You may not be ferried across.”

She nearly snaps at him, but instead takes a firm hold on her temper and thinks. Charon did not say she was not permitted to enter the underworld, only that he may not ferry her across. She peeks into the rushing river. It’s so powerful and fast that it churns grey foam and the water itself looks black, or perhaps that is simply whatever lies beneath. She skims her hand across the surface and the skin of her fingertips comes away burned and blistering.

“May I swim?” she asks.

“There are no rules preventing the impossible,” he tells her, but his shoulders stiffen as if he’s grown nervous.

Kore is not nervous. Either she survives and manages to enter the underworld, or she dies and Charon will have no choice but to ferry her across.

She sheds her gown – it will only weigh her down and get in her way. “My lady goddess,” Charon says, and Kore would almost say he sounds panicked. “Please do not –”

She jumps into the river.

It burns all over, white hot pain that makes her want to scream, but she has no interest in discovering what would happen if she were to swallow any of this supposed water. The current fights against her at every turn, and her muscles bunch and strain to not be swept away. It’s improbably difficult, the most difficult thing she’s ever done, but she grasps the edge of the shore with peeling hands and heaves her bloody body unto the ground.

Her entire body is one throbbing wound. Perhaps she should have listened to Charon before diving headfirst into the river, but it’s too late for regrets.

“Are you insane?” a thunderous voice demands, and then she’s being lifted by strong arms until she’s settled against a muscular chest.

She forces her eyes open, and the man glaring down at her has hair the color of the night sky and skin as pale as bone. His nose is long and sharp, his mouth wide and thin. The only bits of colors are his eyes, a green so dark that at first glance they look black. She raises a hand and cups his face, and the water clinging to her doesn’t seem to hurt him the way it hurt her. “Hades,” she says, and everything pains her just as much as before but his skin soothes hers. The skin on her palms comes away healed.

He’s angry with her, but his touch is gentle. There’s not a stitch of clothing on her, but he doesn’t glance or grope, only pulls her against him and uses the sleeve of his robe to clear the burning water from her face. “Yes, insane goddess, I am Hades.”

She had not meant to meet him, only to hide among his realm until she could think of a better plan. But she likes him already, an instantaneous and childish feeling, one she can’t remember having before.

She turns into his chest and lets out a pleased sigh, content to go wherever he brings her.

“They call me Kore.”

gods and monsters series, part vii


A/N: Let me know if you like this one! It’s my first little piece of writing and I would really appreciate the feedback! 

The mattress squeaks under duress as you land with a loud thud. You don’t know how you managed to find a room without barging into horny youngsters trying to savour every inch of each other. Thankfully you didn’t, and you were gracious for the moment of peace the silence gave you (even if the bass was slightly pouring through the closed door). It wasn’t normal for you to be drinking so much; you usually were the one taking care of Harry when he had a bit too much to drink. Dealing with drunk Harry was like dealing with an over affectionate boyfriend. There’s lots of sweaty kisses on your cheek, and the occasional “really do love yeh, pet, ever since we met” followed by you stuffing his mouth with bread to ignore the slight swirl you’d feel from his words. And regardless of the amount of alcohol he drank, Harry would practically beg for a cuddle with you. He’d claim it’s because your five foot build fits so perfectly with his, but he knows he wouldn’t get a chance if he was sober, so he uses his slightly intoxicated state to breathe words he’d never say and actions he’d never do.  

“And where is Harry now?” a little voice murmured.

 A tiny jab of irrational jealousy poured through you as you were reminded of his arms wrapped around another girl, who, in your opinion,  had a little less clothing on than most. You watched them together - his eyes taking in her body, reaching forward to whisper something she’d inevitably giggle at. You’d see the way she’d looked at him, like he was some God, born with the body and charisma that would make any girl swoon. You couldn’t blame them of course, his mixture of cocky and confident drew people to him. For you, it was his adorable sense of humour and his pursuit to bring happiness to anyone he cared for. And that allowed you two to become friends. Good friends. Close friends.  Right?

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Just Friends

Requests: (1) Could you do a Draco imagine that consists of Cedric Diggory, Draco getting jealous, feels, conflict, and a load of jealousy?;

(2) Could you do an imagine where Draco and the reader are best friends and lowkey in love with each other but refuse to admit it, and progressively Draco starts making, erm, suggestive, comments to the reader and there’s just lots of sexual tension and eventually they get together?

⇢  A Draco x Reader work featuring a very jealous and steamy Draco.

Draco took a sip from his goblet, peering over the rim as you walked into The Great Hall with a handsome Hufflepuff by your side. Not that it bothered him, of course. In fact, Draco would say he hardly even noticed.

“You alright, mate?”

“Just fine. Why do you ask?”

Zabini shrugged. “Your nose has been inside your goblet for some time now. Trying to drown yourself, Malfoy?”

“Of course not.” Draco lowered the goblet from his face, never once taking his eyes off you. You were still talking to that boy.

Blaise followed Draco’s gaze and smirked. “Tell me, Draco, where’s that best friend of yours? She usually would have dropped by for her daily chat by now.” He watched as Draco’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “Oh– I see her. She’s preoccupied by that Hufflepuff. Diggory, is it?”

“I don’t know. And I couldn’t care less, really.”

“Didn’t you two agree to attend the Yule Ball together?” A look of mock realization dawned on Zabini’s face. “Oh, that’s right. You two agreed to go only as friends. And now she’s chatting up the Triwizard Champion while you’re here dateless.”

“Appears so.” Draco remained impassive. “But at least I have an excuse for not bringing a date. Can you say the same?”

Zabini sobered as he took in Draco’s expressionless tone. Zabini may have been a tosser, but he knew when to stop. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Draco heaved a sigh, rubbing his temple and finally turning to face Blaise. “Is it obvious?”

“Only to someone with a brain.” Blaise paused. “Which explains why Y/N hasn’t caught on yet.”

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I try to keep this as up to date as possible. <3

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Pulse Part 3

Part 2

Genre: Fluff, angst
Words: 2,203
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Stalking
Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.

“-A fiancée?” Natasha interrupted for clarification.

You nodded, taking a rather large sip of the red wine in your hand. “Why does this kind of shit always happen to me? I swear, God is out to get me.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Natasha laughed. "You’re his soulmate, you’ll win him over.”

Sighing, you poured more of the alcohol into your glass. “I’m not so sure, Nat. You should have seen her, she looks like the love child of Megan Fox and Anne Hathaway. So not fair.”

“But you have one thing she doesn’t.” She teased.

“What?” You asked bitterly. “A stalker?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of your hearts beating in-sync, but that one is true, too.”

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I’ll Still Want You/Stiles Stilinski Fluff

Originally posted by allpeopleareincredible

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Request:  Could you do where the reader is uber drunk and Stiles has to pick her up at a bar and take care of her? And the reader being really risqué to him?

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Monday 9:29pm
You’re so stubborn.
It’s one of the qualities I love most about you.

Tuesday 7:12am
I feel so dizzy, so, so dizzy.
Maybe it’s because I just woke up, or maybe
it’s because I dreamt of you last night.

Wednesday 1:25am
You fell asleep on me.
I’m not mad, not in the slightest.
I just wish I were curled up by your side.

Thursday 11:14pm
It’s crazy how even when I’m surrounded by friends,
and you’re not even here, you still have the power to
make my thoughts get rude.

Friday 8:11pm
I can always tell when you’ve been drinking;
You only call me babe when you’re drunk.
I think it’s because you don’t have the guts to say it when you’re sober.

—  words about a man i don’t love anymore, c.j.n.

anonymous asked:

Four word prompt: “Honestly, just stop it.” xx

The alcohol that was flowing through my veins made me feel everything in overdrive, made me infinitely more sensitive. So when we walking out of the party, even though I had done this a thousand times, I was shocked by the amount of flashes that greeted us. My eyes immediately closed and I stumbled right back into Harry, who was also drunk, but not nearly as drunk as I was and he caught me as I tripped over his feet, beginning to laugh as I felt the safety of his arms around me.

“Careful, love.” He murmured before guiding me to the car and shielding me from the flashes. Once we both slid in the car I cuddled up onto his arm, resting my head on his shoulder, “You have to put your seatbelt on.” I could hear the amusement in his voice.

“If I put my seatbelt on, I wouldn’t be able to be this close to you.”

“How tragic.” He lightly pushed me away and leaned over me to pull my seatbelt across me. I leaned forward until my mouth connected to his neck and lightly sucked, pleased when he shuddered at the contact. “Wait until we get home.” He said and pulled away, but rested a hand on my thigh.

“Come on… we never have sex anywhere exciting.” He looked at me oddly, like it was a strange thing for me to say and I suppose it was because I would never say anything like this sober.

“Are you suggesting our sex life is boring?” And he slowly slid his hand further up my thigh until the tips of his fingers were just under my dress, the cool metal of his rings sending goosebumps across my skin.

I covered his hand with my own and slid it further up until his fingers were just touching the edge of my panties. “It’ll be fun.” I whispered and nipped at his earlobe.

But he pulled away, suddenly leaving me void of his warmth. “I know Sober Y/N is in there and she wouldn’t approve of this behavior.”

I smirked at him, “Sober Y/N’s sleeping.” I reached my hand between his legs and slowly rubbed over him, but he pushed my hand away. “Honestly, just stop it.” He said, but he was laughing as he did so, clearly amused by my behavior. “Just wait until we get home, love, we’ll be there in ten.”

I pouted and crossed my arms in front of me, looking straight ahead and refusing to meet his eye, “You ruined the mood, I don’t want to anymore.”

He sighed and turned his head until his nose was pressed to my cheek, pressing little kisses to my face, “Don’t be like that.” I took my hand and pushed his face away from me without looking at him. “Ow!” He said through his laughter, “Oh, you are so dead when we get home.” He growled.

My lips quirked at the corners, “Is that so?” I taunted, “What are you gonna do to me, Harry?”

His eyes lit up with mischief, “First, I’m gonna rip that dress right off—“

“No, you’re not because it’s designer.”

“—First, I’m gonna unzip that dress and gently slide it off of you.”

I giggled, “Then what?”

We were pulling onto our street now, “Then… I’m going to throw you onto the bed…” He paused dramatically for effect, “…and make love to you slowly and passionately, always gentle, always considerate of your needs because you’re my best friend and a powerful woman and you deserve to be treated with the utmost respect.”

We stared at each other in silence for a minute, waiting for the other to break, and I broke first, collapsing into laughter, “My God, Harry, you’re so kinky lately, my panties are absolutely soaked now.” I said sarcastically.

He smirked, “What can I say, I’ve got a filthy mouth. But I was serious earlier, about when we get home.” He reached over and unbuckled my seatbelt as we pulled into the driveway, and as he did he leaned in my ear and whispered, “You better run.” When he pulled away he winked at me and I started giggling as I kicked off my heels, struggling with the car door and finally running inside, Harry hot on my heels.

He tackled me to our bed as I giggled, pressing kisses on my mouth in between, allowing me time to breathe. He pulled at my hair and wasn’t at all gentle as his teeth grazed my neck and fingers leaving bruises on my back side.

“Our sex life is boring, eh?” He took a fistful of my hair and pulled until a soft moan left my lips, “Guess we’ll have to do something about that.”

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic where… Aaron is off his head on pain meds (maybe after the car accident) or really drunk and starts complementing Robert, telling him how gorgeous and amazing he is, saying all the things he loves about him but is never able to say when he’s sober!

“God, I love that face of yours,” Aaron said, slurring his words slightly as he leaned across the table, a clumsy hand brushing against Robert’s cheek. 

Robert couldn’t help but laugh as his husband pawed at his face, Aaron absolutely polluted. He and Adam had been in the pub drinking since about four, so by time Robert had arrived to join, they were well on their way to drunk. He was only slightly tipsy himself, wanting to keep at least half an eye on Aaron.

“I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?” Robert said, pulling Aaron’s pint away from him, jerking his head toward the door of the Woolpack. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Aaron smirked, an attempt at a sultry smile on his face. “You going to show me a good time then Sugden?” he said, trying his best to play footsie with Robert under the table, kicking Robert in the ankle instead.

“Alright drunky, time to get you home to bed,” Robert laughed, standing up and hoisting Aaron out of his seat, Aaron instantly wrapping his arms around Robert’s waist, his grip iron tight.

“You’ve got a great body,” Aaron said, patting Robert’s stomach affectionately, an appreciative look on his face. “I could sleep on this, you know? Very comfortable.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if thats a compliment?” 

“It is,” Aaron drawled, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he moved one of his hands, smacking Robert on the arse, making Robert jump about a mile in the air. 

Aaron.” Robert hissed, painfully aware that Chas and Paddy were watching on from the bar, Aaron’s mum laughing hysterically at her son’s behaviour. 

“What? I like your arse!” Aaron defended himself, sticking a hand in Robert’s back pocket, giving it an appreciative squeeze. 

“Right, we’re definitely going home.” Robert hauled Aaron toward the door, trying not to give in to how brilliantly distracting it was to have Aaron’s hand on his arse, the familiar beginnings of a night to remember stirring in Robert. 

(Though, judging by the way Aaron couldn’t even hold himself up as they walked through the village, his husband would be passed out before Robert even managed to get him into bed.)

“BELLE!” Aaron waved at his cousin, giving her a dopey smile. “Look! I’ve got a husband, dead gorgeous husband actually. Right? He’s dead gorgeous.” 

Belle laughed. “You had a few drinks?”

“Just a few,” Robert rolled his eyes, answering for his once again distracted husband. Aaron was doing his best to untuck Robert’s shirt from his trousers, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as he fumbled with the material. “I’d better get him home to bed.”

“Yeah you better.” Aaron grinned, looking delighted with himself as he managed to untuck most of Robert’s white shirt, a cold hand pressing against Robert’s hip.

Belle waved them goodbye, Robert having to half drag Aaron down the pathway to their house. “Aaron, you’re a terrible drunk, you know that?” he joked, trying to get his house keys out of his pocket, Aaron’s wandering hands everywhere.

“I love you,” Aaron slurred, whiskey scented breath ghosting over Robert’s jawline. “Do I tell you that enough? I love you, Robert Sugden. You are gorgeous and I love your face.”

“Just my face?” Robert teased, finally managing to unlock the door, bundling Aaron into the hallway of their flat, kicking the door shut behind him. Aaron was all over him instantly, burying his face in Robert’s chest.

“Love all of ya.” Aaron corrected himself, a happy smile on his face. “You make me so happy.”

“You make me happy too,” Robert replied, directing Aaron to the kitchen, sitting him down in one of the chairs, turning his attention to the kettle, making Aaron a cup of tea.

“I love your smile.” Aaron blurted. “Your proper smile, you know? The one you only ever have with me, or Vic, or Liv. It’s nice, y’know? Knowing I make ya happy.”

“Of course you make me happy,” Robert said, adding a dash of milk to Aaron’s tea, setting it down in front of him. “Drink that, eh? Might make the hangover a bit easier in the morning.”

Aaron nodded, blowing on his tea as if he was a kid, a grin permanently fixed in place on his face. “I know we’ve had our problems,” he mumbled, taking a sip of the tea. “But I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, you know that, don’t you?” 

“I know.” Robert said softly, giving his knee a squeeze. “I always know, yeah?” 

Aaron beamed, reaching out with a shaky hand, brushing it down the centre of Robert’s face, making him laugh. “You’ve got a lovely face, Rob. Really lovely.”

tell me what fic you wish i’d write

Wrapped Around; pt. 2.5

Jimin x Reader x Tae // College!AU // 3990 words

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Genre: Fluff, Smut

A/N: wow I’m so bad at updating, I’m so sorry ahahah. This is a small portion bc I needed to split up what I’ve already written and I’m not sure when I’ll finish the actual part 3 bc I have mid-terms next week! I feel super bad for making y’all wait so… this is roughly (4000/11000 words i’ve written). It ain’t much but ya know don’t hate me pls haha.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3


You run your hands up and down your neck in horror as you see matching dark marks on your neck. What are these? Who did this? Just what the fuck happened last night? Did fucking Jimin— Son of a bitch.

You run to your door, pulling it open hurriedly just so you can catch him but Jimin had made a quick escape.

You slam the door shut, searching instead for your phone. You call him once, twice and he doesn’t pick up… which is odd since he’s practically glued to his phone like all the time. You let out an annoyed groan and settled on texting him instead, fingers furiously tapping at the screen as you typed out your message.

[1:09] You: Jimin what the fuck happened last night?

[1:09] You: how am I even going to hide these marks?

[1:09] You: why couldn’t you just keep your nasty mouth to yourself?

[1:10] You: answer me asshole

[1:10] You: I know you’re reading these

[1:10] You: you’re on your damn phone all the time when we’re doing the quizzes

You wait 5, 10, 15 minutes and there’s still no reply. You go to the bathroom for a quick shower and run to your phone immediately after getting dressed and still no reply. You examine the marks once again and you rest your head on the wall, grumbling at yourself for having too much alcohol the night before.

Even with a scarf, you couldn’t cover the marks that ran all the way to your jawline. You apply a generous amount of foundation and concealer, hoping to hide the petals of blue and purple but you could still see a hint of colour even after slathering on what seems like almost half the bottle of foundation onto your neck. Frustrated, you simply shove the last of your belongings into your bag and make your way to the library.

The throbbing headache you had made it very difficult for you to concentrate on the books you had in front of you. Despite sleeping till 1 pm, you still felt exhausted and you promise yourself to never have that much alcohol again. You sigh, this was starting to sound like what you used to tell yourself every week last semester.

After finishing the last section of your lab report, you allow yourself to take a quick 20-minute nap because honestly you could barely keep your eyes open anyway. You check your phone again, you’re still waiting on Jimin’s reply but your lock screen still comes up blank. Placing your phone to the side, you sink down comfortably into your chair and rest your head on your arms. You will your mind to remember the events of last night but the moment you shut your eyes, you simply drift to sleep.

Your night comes back to you in the form of tiny flashes, simple snippets, each one making you regret the night more and more. The short flashbacks are not in order and it isn’t enough for you to build a coherent timeline of what was your exciting Friday night but they were truly enough to make you feel like flinging yourself across the room.

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anonymous asked:

32. open your eyes + kylux? ty!

open your eyes

Hux was not quite tipsy, not quite there yet. He and Ren were simply sharing a nice bottle of brandy in his quarters to celebrate a victory they’d just been informed of, that was all, just having a chat and a drink, nobody had to know they were kissing harsh and biting like it was a dare, like a game of chicken. 

“I’ve always wanted to know something,” Hux said, soft, when he drew back from the sharp-sour-sweet kiss.   


“What does it feel like?”

“What does what feel like?” Ren asked. There was a little bruise blooming just below his plump lower lip, where Hux had bitten with a bit too much enthusiasm. 

“Hearing everyone’s thoughts.” Hux felt almost like he’d swoon into Ren’s lap, lazy and pleased, unbothered. He closes his eyes and leans against him. “Isn’t it loud? Isn’t it a distratcion? Stars above, Ren, I can barely stand it when someone’s coughing on the bridge.”

“Mm, think of it this way,” Ren answered. “You don’t hear the engines, or the hum of the machines, do you?”

“If I listen for them, I do.”

“It’s exactly the same. If I listen for things, I hear them. Otherwise they just become part of the background.”

Hux smiled. “Do you hear me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, but I’m always listening for you.”

“What an impossible request. Everything gets to my head. You’ve told me a thousand times.”

“Hux, open your eyes.”

Hux opened his eyes and searched Ren’s face, but his vision was swimming and maybe he’d had more to drink than he thought, maybe–

“We’ve had our victory, General,” Ren said softly. “I’m putting you to bed now.” He paused, lest it sound too sweet. “You lush.”

“I’m celebrating,” Hux protested.

“Celebrate in bed.”

“With pleasure.”

Sleep, Hux, stars.”

“You can listen to me dream,” Hux says gleefully, loving the way it sounds when he says it. Far more poetic than anything he’d say sober. Listen to me, he wanted to say again, but Ren was scooping him up and he closed his eyes again, sighing.