your enemies in bed

Hey so I’ve got a super trope-y, bed-sharing, enemies to lovers, snarky, sexy fic thing with Bucky that may be up tomorrow.

If that’s a thing people are into. Lemme know. 


UPDATE: I’ve seen some likes and replies to this post so I thought I should mention that this fic was already posted! Check it out if you’d like. :) 

Air B&E (reader x Bucky Oneshot)

Originally posted by gameraboy

“Platonic” Bed-sharing: A Snowbaz Fic

In which there is much Snowbaz fluff. 

Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Rainbow Rowell!

“Snow. No”

“Snow yes!”

Simon Snow is a complete nitwit. Baz thought.

The two boys were at a standoff. Baz always knew that Simon was plagued with nightmares. Some nights the sound of the curly-haired angel of a boy would keep him up until faint streaks of sunlight drifted through their bedroom door. He had never gone off in his sleep though. This was certainly new.

“Please Baz! My spine is too fucking boney to sleep on the ground. Do you want me to be miserable all night?” He was pleading now, his blue eyes wide, accentuating his freckles.

He was standing there in their chamber looking like an innocent child in a too-tall body. He was hugging a spare blankets and a pillow to his chest. His lanky, skinny limbs looked even skinnier in his baggy Watford pajamas. All his scone eating hadn’t done anything to increase his weight. Must be the pressure of seventh year getting to him.

“As a matter of fact, yes I do want that.” Yes, get bruises all over your perfect back you idiot. That’s what you get for being so attractive.

“If you don’t share your bed I’ll make sure you’re miserable all night too!”

It was a measly threat to Baz. He was already miserable enough every night to have the Mage’s Heir tormenting him through his presence every day and night. He rolled his eyes and smoothed out a single wrinkle in his bedsheets.

“Don’t ignore me! It’s just for one night. I won’t even touch you, I promise.”

Baz fluffed up his pillow. He could physically feel Simon’s glares.

“Come on man! S’not my fault Watford doesn’t have any spare beds lying around!” There was an intoxicating electric tingle to the air. Simon was getting too worked up about this. “If I have to sleep on the ground because of you I will go off on your bed and we’ll both be cold and sore from sleeping on the fucking stone floor.”

That was certainly a threat Simon could get away with doing, despite the anathema. Damn him. Baz thought.

“Okay. Fucking fine!” It came out more harshly than Baz intended.

Simon took a step back, the threads of his magic retreating immediately. It was certainly frightening how closely tied Simon’s magic was to his emotions.

“Thanks. I promise. This is just for tonight. I’ll build a spare bed myself if it means I don’t have to sleep with you.”

Baz snorted. Simon. Building something. Now that would be something. He sighed in annoyance as he realized sharing a bed with Simon would make it extremely difficult to sneak of to drink tonight.

“I’m going to change into my nightclothes. Make yourself at home, Snow.” He said sarcasm dripping from his voice like water from a leaky faucet.

Simon nodded. He looked exhausted.

Baz went to change his clothes in the bathroom. He stared at his own grey eyes in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and if he had more blood in him, he would probably would look flushed. He felt a surge of nervousness and anticipation.

Sharing a bed with Simon Snow. Simon fucking Snow. How on bloody earth am I supposed to not kiss the moles on his neck if he is bloody next to me?

This would certainly be a long night.

Emerging from the bathroom, Baz saw Simon fixing up a sheet to work as a divider in the middle of their already small twin bed.

“What the fuck are you doing Snow?” Baz asked incredulously.

“I thought it’d be more comfortable if there was a like… physical barrier between us.”

“Whatever floats your boat you nitwit.”

Baz carefully folded his Watford sweater, placing it in a drawer, and hung up his trousers. Then he stood by his bed, eyeing a reclining Simon.

“I promise I won’t bite or go off on you tonight Baz. And don’t even think about doing anything to me. Anathema, remember.”

Baz rolled his eyes and climbed into bed. He laid on his side, facing away from the boy he wanted to kiss ever since they met. Simon had already turned out the light. It was just the two of them now. Lying side by side. Lit by moonlight.

This would be incredibly romantic if were an entirely different pair of boys. And both gay.  Baz thought.

He heard Simon sigh. He could feel heat radiating of him in waves. He was so hot. Baz didn’t understand why Simon even bothered to use a blanket. He was already a walking furnace. In more ways than one. Baz swallowed, bit his tongue and did his best to repress the urge to turn and kiss the living hell out of Simon.

Moments passed in silence. Simon’s breath faded into a rhythm. But it wasn’t how he sounded when he was sleeping. More like he was relaxed.

Baz was not relaxed. It felt like every atom of his undead existence was on edge. He was going to have to spend at least eight hours lying like this with the boy he loved and wanted most lying next to him. This was all a terrible mistake.

A gentle touch and a whispered “Baz!” made his entire body flinch. The hand immediately retreated and Baz immediately wished it back.

“Blimey Snow! What the fuck do you want?” He turned to look at the boy.

It was a mistake.

Simon looked ethereal. His eyes were soft and tired. His bronze hair was silver and shone under the starlight. His lips. Crowley his lips looked devourable.

Baz swore he felt his vampire heart have a seizure in his chest. He was tingling all over. This was a mistake. He should just go stalk the Watford grounds and sleep under a tree or some shit. Even a cold Autumn night spent outside would be better than this infernal torture.

“Baz. Why are we like this?”

“Like what, idiot?” Baz spat a bit.

The bead of saliva landed on Snow’s pillow. Baz wished it had landed on Simon’s face. Then he wished he hadn’t thought that.

“Why do we hate each other?”

Baz sighed in exasperation. But some force he wasn’t entirely in control of made him turn completely onto his side and face Snow full-on.

“I don’t know! Maybe my parents hate your adopted father because he stole all that was good from our family?” Baz’s words raised in volume. 

He was getting annoyed.

Annoyed that Simon looked so calm. Annoyed that they could kiss right that moment Annoyed they weren’t kissing. Annoyed that it was even a possibility in his mind. He wanted to glare at Simon. But he was so tired. And thirsty.

This was a mistake.

Simon was silent for a moment. He seemed to be studying the wall behind Baz. Then he was studying Baz’s face and time seemed to stop.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot, Baz. None of this stupid rivalry makes any sense!”

“Welcome to the real world.”

“Sure. But right now. I’m scared.” Simon’s voice was getting soft and small.

He was so small and pale and delicate in that moment. Baz felt an insuppressible need to protect him. It made his heart feel like it could burst out of his chest and fly away.

“Scared?” Baz found his voice was getting softer now too.

Why. Why? He needed more control than this. Everything that was expect from him wasn’t what he really wanted. He had to stop his feelings. But he couldn’t. He had made a terrible mistake.

“I’m scared of the Humdrum. Of losing the people I care about. Penny. The Mage. Agatha. You.”

Baz coughed in suprise. Not a sarcastic cough. A genuine “what-the-fuckity-fuck” cough.

“I’m scared of sleeping tonight because I don’t want to wake up and find that I’ve destroyed everything I love.” Simon looked almost like he was going to cry.

“Are you afraid you’ll go off again tonight?” Baz asked.

Simon nodded ashamedly. Baz didn’t really feel concerned that Simon could hurt him. He felt concerned that Simon was sad. They laid there in silence, staring at each other.

Then, then, Simon took the sheet that was separating them, cast it aside, and flung his arms around Baz. Baz was too shocked to react for a moment. He couldn’t exactly fathom how this moment was real. Slowly, he wrapped an arm back around him.

“S-simon?” He managed.

“Sorry.” He muttered into Baz’s shirt. “I think I just needed a hug.”

“You want a hug from your mortal enemy in a bed?”

Baz could feel Simon sigh in response. Then he drew back but not that far back.

“I don’t know.”


They stared at each other. Baz knew his eyes probably looked as wide as Simon’s did. What did this all mean? What was Simon trying to accomplish through this? Did he know how Baz felt and was trying to manipulate him?

Manipulation or not, whatever Simon was doing was working.

Simon’s hand encircled his and he froze.

Physically and mentally, he froze.

Baz had so many questions. So many demands to make.

Why did Simon care about him?

Why on earth did Simon think hugging the boy who had only made him miserable would accomplish anything?

Why were they holding hands in a bed?

What the fuck was happening?

Why were they not kissing?

They should kiss.

He wanted Simon to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Simon.

“Simon?” He whispered.

“Kiss me.” Simon whispered back.

And he did.


possible triggers, read/reblog with caution.


❛ Nine years! Why have I not seen you? ❜
❛ Where the hell have you been? ❜
❛ Would you please shut up! ❜
❛ Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects. ❜
❛ Surely, the dead can wait. ❜
❛ Did I offend you? Sorry. ❜
❛ What the hell do you know about being a bastard? ❜
❛ I heard you the first time. ❜
❛ It’s no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain. ❜
❛ I just want to stand on top of the Wall and pissoff the edge of the world! ❜
❛ Give me a good, clean death any day. ❜
❛ What good will my sympathies do them? ❜
❛ Your absence has already been noted. ❜
❛ One word and I hit you again. ❜
❛ I’ve half a mind to leave them all behind and keep moving. ❜
❛ You’re too hard on yourself. You always have been. ❜
❛ I swear, if I weren’t your king/queen, you’d have hit me already. ❜
❛ Trust me, that’s not the worst thing. ❜
❛ Tell me we’re not speaking of this. ❜
❛ Oh, it’s unspeakable to you? ❜
❛ Look at me and tell me what you see. ❜
❛ You broke my nose, bastard! ❜
❛ I wonder how long it’d take you to hit! ❜
❛ They hate me because I'm better than they are! ❜
❛ Glad to see you’re protecting the Throne. ❜
❛ It must be strange for you, coming into this room. ❜
❛ But you just stood there and watched. ❜
❛ Is that what you tell yourself at night? ❜
❛ How could you let this happen?! ❜
❛ I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit. ❜
❛ Do you remember anything about what happened? ❜
❛ Why are you here? ❜
❛ I have a gift for you. ❜
❛ Will I really be able to ride? ❜
❛ Is this some kind of trick? ❜
❛ Piss on that! I wanna hit somebody! ❜
❛ You do move quietly. ❜
❛ You’re speaking of murdering a child. ❜
❛ You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this. ❜
❛ I felt something for you once, you know. ❜
❛ Does that make you feel better, or worse? ❜
❛ You wish to confess your crimes? ❜
❛ My crimes and sins are beyond counting. ❜
❛ I’m good at convincing others to do violence for me. ❜
❛ What do you think you’re doing?! ❜
❛ I have that right, same as you. ❜


❛ We looked for you on the battlefield, but you were nowhere to be found! ❜
❛ I…I’ve been here, ruling the kingdoms! ❜
❛ I’m glad you’re not dead. ❜
❛ Knowledge is power. ❜
❛ Excuse the interruption. Carry on. ❜
❛ It’s been a… remarkable journey! ❜
❛ You brought this on yourself. ❜
❛ I’ve done nothing. ❜
❛ Do you understand we’re losing the war?! ❜
❛ Disappeared? What, in a puff of smoke?! ❜
❛ Must be hard for you- to be the disappointing child. ❜
❛ Oh, I trust them with my life- just not with yours. ❜
❛ Three victories don’t make you a conqueror. ❜
❛ I won’t need a servant to do my beheading for me! ❜
❛ I heard you suffered a terrible head wound.  ❜
❛ I am very good at keepingsecrets for my good friends. ❜
❛ Who threatened you? ❜
❛ I understand the way this game is played. ❜
❛ I’ll have you thrown into the sea! ❜
❛ I am a pirate- I’m an excellent pirate! ❜
❛ That’s a promise that always comes true. ❜
❛ You don’t know how persuasive I am. ❜
❛ You’re the mosthonest smuggler I ever met. ❜
❛ You have no need to see this. ❜
❛ I believe we know how to pour our own wine. ❜
❛ Maybe I’ll hire this cook of yours. ❜
❛ I don’t listen to filth. ❜
❛ I appreciate your loyalty. ❜
❛ I’ll not have my honour questioned by an imp! ❜
❛ I just wouldn’t feel safe with you lurking about. ❜
❛ I command you to arrest this cutthroat! ❜
❛ Do you hear me?! ❜
❛ I think there’s more to ruling than that. ❜
❛ There’s no bigger joke in the world than that. ❜
❛ What about all the dreams you had that didn't come true? ❜
❛ Your time with the wolves has made you weak. ❜
❛ You gave me away if you remember. ❜
❛ You gave me away like I was some dog you didn’t want anymore. ❜
❛ You won’t get away with this. ❜
❛ I’ve decided I don’t like riddles. ❜
❛ You want to know what side my family fights on? ❜
❛ You gonna tell me where you’re from? ❜
❛ You can’t talk to me like that! ❜
❛ That’s twice I’ve warned you. ❜
❛ I don’t want you in my tent oneminute more than necessary. ❜
❛ It would be my pleasure. ❜


❛ You’re wearing the wrong color. ❜
❛ When I’m free, will I be free to go? ❜
❛ I'll be free to kill you. ❜
❛ From now on, you’d better kneel every time I fart. ❜
❛ You’re telling me you saw… one of them.  ❜
❛ Did I come to the right place? ❜
❛ We’ll need to find you a new cloak. ❜
❛ I need an army. ❜
❛ It’s too beautiful of a day, to argue. ❜
❛ I am wondering why you sent for me. ❜
❛ Have you grown boredprotecting me? ❜
❛ I’m sure you’ve filled your pockets. ❜
❛ I don’t loan it out to friends as a favor. ❜
❛ I don’t even know what I’m paying you now! ❜
❛ Am I enjoying it? ❜
❛ I heard how happy you were. ❜
❛ I gave you real power and authority. ❜
❛ You brought a whore into my bed. ❜
❛ Why does everyone assume I want something? ❜
❛ A little bloody gratitude would be a start. ❜
❛ So tell me what you want. ❜
❛ I want what is mine by right. ❜
❛ The next whore I catch in your bed, I’ll hang. ❜
❛ I’m not your enemy. ❜
❛ I’ve never seen anything like it. ❜
❛ Even the bravest men fear death. ❜
❛ Tell the good master there is no need. ❜
❛ Here, I’m done with you. ❜
❛ How many do you have to sell? ❜
❛ We don’t get to choose who we love. ❜
❛ I only want to know what that means. ❜
❛ Are you frightened, child? ❜
❛ Tell us the truth. No harm will come to you. ❜
❛ I have traitor’s blood. ❜
❛ Please don’t make me say anymore. ❜
❛ Please, don’t stop the wedding. ❜
❛ That doesn’t mean they’re not worth helping. ❜
❛ I have no doubtyou will prove equal to this challenge. ❜
❛ This is the safest place in the city. ❜
❛ Any advice for me, on my new position? ❜
❛ How long will you be gone? ❜
❛ You don’t have the strength. It would kill you. ❜
❛ There is another way, a better way. ❜
❛ The blood of my enemies, not the blood of innocents. ❜
❛ What’re you doing, leading a mob of peasants? ❜
❛ I should have killed you! ❜
Bittersweet Death

: ‘Are you drunk?’
: fluff
Word count
: 2225
: Simon comes home late one night and lays himself next to Baz in bed. He says things, but Baz is sure he’ll regret it the next day.


When I come back from hunting, Simon isn’t there, which is unusual. I wonder whether he’s followed me again, but I didn’t notice anything. (Also, he hasn’t followed me for a few months now. I was glad about the break, but I still don’t really get why.)

Sometimes, he makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Sometimes, I feel like I’m drowning in a pit of despair. (And it’s not just because I’m being dramatic – there are moments when it feels like I’m going to die of the pain, of the longing.)

But tonight, he’s not here. (I’m torn between missing him and relief. It’s torture being in love with your enemy.)

I lay down and stare at the empty bed beside me. The stars shine brightly tonight and I can hear the wind rustling against the window. I wonder what he’s up to at this time of the day. (Probably with Wellbelove.)

Suddenly I hear something crashing against the door and jolt. Is this him? (He’s clumsy, but not even he would make this much noise so late at night.)

It must be somebody who lives inside the Mummer’s house. I hear some metal clashing together (keys?) and somebody swearing. Maybe it is Simon after all?

Whoever it is, he gets the door open and stumbles in. I can only see his slumped shape, his head hanging low. What’s wrong with him?

He slams the door shut behind him and I wonder whether he’s angry. (At me? I wouldn’t know why, but that says nothing.)

For a moment, he just stand there in the middle of the room. He stares at the ground and I stare at him. Then he lifts his head and his gaze meets mine. The moonlight reflects in his eyes. He makes a step forward and his lips curl into a smile. (Mood swings?)

‘Baz,’ he whispers, and he sounds high. And then he giggles. (Crowley. Giggles.)

Keep reading

Stay Still

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: When returning from an exhausting mission, the reader teases Bucky about his age, only to end up on her knees, being shown that one part of him certainly hasn’t aged.
Words: 1349
Warning: Smut, oral (male receiving), some light dom!reader 

Keep reading

steal three coins from a dead man’s pocket
and burn a bouquet of myrtle blossoms in late spring
if you wish to meet your dead lover for a final goodbye
crush the marrow of a young lamb to a fine powder
then sprinkle it across a fresh bed of belladonna
to watch your enemies choke under the moon’s shadow
give me the smoke of your soul and the fumes of your agony
with the dust that lies on your hope
so i may concoct an antidote to your loneliness
Strange Bedfellows (Rosaline/Benvolio; G)

Ships: Rosaline/Benvolio

Summary: Set during 1x05. True to his word, Benvolio sleeps on the floor. Rosaline starts to feel guilty.

A/N: So I am new to this fandom, but not to writing, so I hope this fic is one of many! :) Enjoy.

Shoutout to Meg/@jeffersonjaxson for reading this over and helping me with a title.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

Rosaline can’t sleep.

Granted, she hasn’t been able to for a while now - since Juliet’s death, or even before then, when Juliet took the potion, if Rosaline is to be completely honest with herself - but tonight it seems worse than usual. She tosses and turns fitfully, childishly keeping her eyes shut as if pretending to sleep will help her actually sleep.

Finally, she opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling, thinking, thinking. She goes over and over Friar Lawrence’s words in her head, willing her mind to focus on the mission and not stray to -


Keep reading

My Lord: Sneaking Downstairs

This is the beginning of a two parter. 

Warning the next part I write may not be the second part of this one.

Thank you all for voting on which chapter I was going to write next earlier! You are in for a special treat! 

Looking for Parts 1-4? Search my tag Sweet Dreams for the Devil

Please tell @squigglydigglydoo and @whatisthisnonsense that they’re awesome!

And also all of you are awesome! I love reading your tags and comments! 

Sammy is looking for his sheep…

Keep reading

“Like father, like son”

ok, so its canon that Demeter sometimes dine with Hades and her daughter Persephone in the underworld sometimes.

but imagine Nico inviting Will.

Will, the sunshine that he is, just brushes everything off

“hey what’s that noise?”

     “oh, that’s the just the damned”

“oh, cool” 

“are those…. zombie guards”

     “they’re undead soldiers, will”

“that’s what i said, Zombie guards 

“wait, is that Cerberus? does it play fetch?”

     “annabeth did”

“cool get me something to throw, OH, summon a leg bone for me!”

“is that Persephone’s garden? i heard there’s a fruit that can cure any diseasses”

“do you have a bed? does t have, like, bone bed frames and sheets made from skin of your enemies?”

     “i have a queen sized bed bought from the internet, will. we’re in th underworld, not some gruesome medieval land.”

“bone bedframes would’ve been cool though.” 


then they get to the dining hall and he just radiates sunshine so the three deities turn around

Will: Hello Mr. Hades, Persephone, Demeter. you all look wonderful  oh and thank you for the amazing batch of strawberries ma’am.

Demeter: you’re quite welcome, young man

Hades: This is… him?

Persephone: Honey, don’t be rude

Hades: what, is it wrong that i expected him to be the brooding, dark type? this is Nico we’re talking about.

Nico: thanks dad

Will: i hope it’s not a bad thing that im not what you were expecting

Hades: well…

Persephone: he is as delighted as we are to meet you. now lets dig in.

so then they ate 

and they weren’t as quiet as before because Will keeps making small talk with everyone 

and nico just radiates shut the fuck up or i will bury you right here you fucking hot piece of annoying ass irritation

and when the dinner was over Will just excuses himself and

Will: thank you for the meal. and again, i hope it’s alright that im not what you all were expecting

Demeter: on the contrary dear. you we’re all that i have ought you’d be.

Hades: wha..

Demeter: oh, please. you of all people should know better brooding types, as you have sad so yourself, always fall for the lively ones. Like father, like son.

Nico: uhm

Demeter: you both surround yourselves with death that only those full of lfe cold get through both of you. you *points @ nico* surround yourself wth too much darkness so *gestures to Will* there you go

Persephone: *smiles as Hades grumbles his protests*

Will: *smiles as Nico drags him out* bye! 

Demeter: Nico, dear! make sure to bring him back next year!

and lets just say Will sometimes gets random gifts from Demeter kids and Nico just grumbles as they both eat them up

when you put your hands in the earth, wrist-deep, you’re saying
eat me and spit me out as something incredible. you don’t know this
you only know when the first flowers bloomed out of the dry stalks in your mother’s garden
you put your cheek to the damp ground and breathed on the petals, thinking something you’d heard in science class
about what green things eat, about what you breathe, about what they give back to you; and you think maybe if you share air with something this brave—
six years is not sufficient to express the desires
tumbling like fire through your mind.

when you sketch the air, you’re saying: my bones are full, my heart overripe
my lungs expanding, this thing is too much for my body
your hands move like leaves and shadows do. they talk to you in a language
you, their technical owner, cannot understand. they flutter impatiently
waiting for your slow head to catch up. the townspeople watch across your garden wall
full of the primal urge to sharpen pitchforks.

(when the townspeople come, they say many things)

when you pulled yourself out of your shallow grave, with your unquiet hands
your beloved roots entwined with every fiber nerve and splinter bone, you said:
I am more than worthy of breathing this air. you said here I am, something incredible. and the garden breathes, & down somewhere
all your enemies shiver in their beds.

i am not there, i do not sleep; m.t

Find a rhyming, anthropomorphic cat and make it amuse!
This makes an opportunity that you shall then use!
Kill your enemies in their bed!
Or just sneak up on them and stab their head!
There are a million ways to slay a foe,
But time has run out, so I’ve got to go!


Prompt: Romeo and Juliet of the Science and English department

Word Count: 645 (more of a drabble really!)

Warnings: language, alcohol

Author’s Note: loved the thought of space nerd vs lit nerd! Enjoy!!

Another sigh emitted from you as you listened to your friends. You thought high school was bad. Then you got to college. Now they were able to buy their own alcohol.

Did you know English majors only get louder when they drink? You had to find that out the hard way.

“But Poe would have never said that!” John, a friend of yours, yelled from your side. The whole drunk debate was Poe, Shakespeare, and Fitzgerald. What even?

“How do you know? Were you best friends with him or something?!” Kristen yelled back even angrier. You didn’t put your opinion in on it. You could get shanked with a quill or something (Mike has one, don’t ask why).

“Obviously not, but you weren’t friends with him either! It wasn’t just Kristen and Poe hanging out with ravens and shit!” Mike defended John.

You just watched from the side in shock. They never got quite this rowdy. Maybe it was time to intervene.

“So did you guys see the debate between Beck and McCalin on biological dynamics?” You asked in a soft tone. All fighting stopped to stare at you alone. Apparently not.

“Why would we go to that?” Kristen asked with a scoff. You shrugged while looking at your lap.

“It was actually really good. Beck made some great points about bio-” You were rudely cut off by Mike making an accusation about Fitzgerald. Yelling began again, and you sighed. What was up with such turf wars?

You just excused yourself, saying you’d see them all in the morning. The truth was they wouldn’t crawl out of bed because they were going to be soooo hungover.

The walk back to your apartment was quick. No need to dilly dally in the cold weather. You were also ready to see your roommate.

You unlock the door, shedding the jacket you had. Your purse and keys were hung up next.

“I’m back. You were right! They didn’t go, which meant we are good.” Beck came from the kitchen with a smile. He held a bottle of water in his hand to signal he was just getting a drink.

“Perfect. I told you there was no reason to worry.” He smiled, grabbing the back of your neck and giving your forehead a kiss. You smiled at such a gesture.

How did a science nerd and lit geek end up together? Neither of you figured it out. All you knew is you were looking for roommates and happened to answer each other’s ads. You were both a little tense at first, but you got comfortable with each other. After a night of drinking and slurred confessions, you became the tragic love story of two rival departments. No one knew about it. He read all of your papers, and you went to all of his debates.

“One of these days we can actually be a couple in the real world. Though I’ll admit I’m liking the secretness of this. We’re like agents or something.” You joked as you both began to head upstairs. Great thing about having a boyfriend as roommate? Sharing a room together and not having to say goodbye in the morning.

“I mean, I’m going to be an astronaut, but part time agent works as well.” Beck returned with a laugh. You chuckled as you began to strip off your clothes. The two of you got ready for bed while you talked. Funny stories were shared as well as brief kisses. Your greatest enemy became the easiest person to love.

Beck was first in bed, splayed out across the mattress. You quickly jump on top of him which earned laughter from the both of you. Some quick shifting had you two in your normal spots. He sure was one cuddly science geek. A quick swap of kisses and I love yous ended in snores and great dreams.

Professor Pride Week 12

gif belongs to of-badges-and-guns

Title: Professor Pride Week 12

Pairing: Professor!Pride x Reader

Word Count: 1,261

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I know this is a little late, but NEVER FEAR! I hope you all enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3 <3

Series Masterlist

You thought Dwayne’s reaction to a coffee on his desk would change after all this time, but it never did.  He always smiled at the coffee cup on his desk.  You’d always look down at your laptop and smile to yourself.  There was something about his smile that made it worth it every time.

When Pride set down his coffee, he stepped away from his desk, instantly gaining everyone’s attention.  He always seemed to rub his hands together when he wanted to start class.

“Ah’m gonna give y’all your last assignment for the semester,” Pride announced to the class.  “It’s a pretty simple task.  Ah’m gonna give y’all the whole week to do it.  Just in case you’re tryin’ta finish other class work.”  He waited for the chatter to die down before continuing.  “Ah want y’all to write a report on what’cha’ve learned ‘bout New Orleans.  What have you experienced?  Did somethin’ change your opinion ‘bout New Orleans?  Would ya ever come back to New Orleans on your own?  Why or why not?  I think ya get the gist of it.”  

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I don’t want to be your enemy sleeping in the same bed

Summary: Volunteering to infiltrate Felt Mansion to rescue some guy you’ve never met and kickstart a revolution while you’re at it: not one of your better ideas. Chapter 1/6.

a fic collab between myself and @hal-strider! dirkjake, re-imagined alpha timeline humanstuck where lord english is the gangster behind crocker corp’s success who kidnapped jake as a child. dirk and roxy are children of the revolution. and then shit goes down. 

WC: 1146 
A little ditty about a “we hate each other” relationship with Calum, featuring the “oh my god we have to share a bed?!” trope. Hopefully I did this justice because I am a sucker for these situations (honestly I’d cry if I was in one, though). Enjoy!

“This is not going to work.”

The single full sized bed stared at you with teasing eyes. You were tired, the long ten hour drive wearing on your body, and all you wanted to do was sleep. The motel your friends decided was good enough to crash at only had four available rooms- which was perfect until everybody remembered that you and Calum were the only non couple on this supposed magical road trip. Putting you and your declared enemy in one room, with one bed that Calum was almost bigger than, was the worst idea that could have been hatched- but it was the only suitable answer to the problem.

“Would you rather be stuck between Mikey and his girlfriend? They’re probably going at it as we speak,” Calum rolled his eyes at you (and the thought of his best friend having sex). “So unless you want to be apart of a threesome, I suggest you put your pajamas on and get into bed.”

Your face scrunched up in disgust. Wearing your pajamas next to Calum in a bed that’s smaller than the both of you combined? Yeah right. That would only happen in Calum’s dreams; not like he dreams about you or anything. Definitely doesn’t dream about you.

Pulling your sleepwear out of your suitcase, a smirk played on your face as an idea struck you. “I’ll go put my pajamas on and get into bed, of course sir,” Calum’s face flushed at your words. “But why don’t you go sleep in the van? That works for the both of us.”

“Are you kidding me?! If I sleep out there, I will get killed!”

Before walking in the bathroom (which was almost smaller than the bed), you muttered, “works for the best of us.”

It was never really clear why you and the raven haired boy were always at each other’s throats. Ever since mutual friend Michael introduced the two of you, you had been fire and ice ever since. He didn’t like what you liked, you didn’t like what he liked. If you said something smart, he’d have a comment to refute it. If he had something smart to say, you’d have a eye roll ready. Fights would break out between you two almost every time there was an outing, which was why you were a bit against going on this trip. Michael had insisted, though, that he wanted all of his friends around- “this is for my birthday remember? I want everyone I love there, that includes you and Calum.”

Calum didn’t exactly hate you per-se. He just didn’t like the way you would always give him that look that indicated you knew something he didn’t. Or the way you always had comments about something. Or the way your fingers would constantly tap against your legs. He hated the way he became so entranced by the way your lips moved and the way they would curve into the smile that made him want to puke (burst from happiness).

You didn’t exactly hate Calum, either. He never had much to say unless it was about you. You just didn’t like the way his eyes always found yours and the way his fingers would ever so slightly touch yours whenever you were close. Or the way he would bite his lip when he looked at you like he wanted something but didn’t know what. Or the way he always went off to write songs after your arguments. You hated the his eyes gleamed with excitement that made you want to punch him (kiss him).

“Shouldn’t you be out in the van?” You grumbled when you saw Calum still in the room.

“I’m not sleeping in the van, Princess.”

“Do not call me princess, Hood,” you seethed.

He smirked at you. “Oh, is that another thing that ticks you off? Huh, guess your new name is princess, Princess.”

“If you have any common sense in that pea brain of yours,” you said, “you will stop talking and go to that van right now.”

“Oh but Princess,” he laughed at your command. “I thought we were going to have so much fun in that bed tonight.”

“You’re such an asshole, Hood,” you crossed your arms at the boy who was standing in front of you. He had stupid smirk on his stupid face and you just wanted punch him. Stupid. “Why do you even hate me? I’ve done nothing to you.”

He scoffed. “Why do you hate me? That seems like a better question.”

“I hate you because you hate me! I hate your face, I hate your laugh, I hate your eyes,” he took a step closer to you. He was enjoying this. “I hate how there’s always a girl on your arm. Like, come on, can’t you go a week without having some girl in your bed? Speaking of your damn arms, how can you be so fit? I have never seen you go to the gym since I’ve known you.”

You hadn’t notice how close he had gotten to you until his arm brushed against yours. You noticed every feature on his face- the constellations that hid behind his eyes, the two freckles on his left cheek, his lips- oh god, his lips. You admitted to yourself a long time ago that Calum was a piece of art. That was unquestionable by anyone. But here you were, adrenaline pumping in you, admiring these features that were sacred to only the ones who dared fall for him.

“I hate how pretty your eyes are,” you whispered. You felt him place a hand on your waist, in which your heart stopped.

You continued with a hush voice, “and the way you laugh is completely contagious. I have to bite my lips to keep from laughing along. I hate your lips, too. They’re so plump and unreal.”

“You should do something about them, then, if you hate them so damn much.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Go on then. I’m waiting.”

Your lips touched and it felt like sparks had burst out of the both of you, like every emotion you held for each other was bursting at this moment; hate, love, lust. Teeth clattered against each other, chapped lips healed one another. His nose bumped against yours which earned a small giggle from your mouth. He put a hand on your heart, feeling how fast it was beating from your nerves. It was different and new and exciting- you were being breathed in by the boy you swore was enemy no longer than four days ago.

Calum pulled away to catch his breath with his forehead resting on yours.

“I don’t think there’s a problem sharing that bed anymore, is there?”

You shook your head quickly before pulling him in for another kiss. There was absolutely no problem sharing the small bed; you two had made it work out heavenly.

My Fair Warrior: Part 2

Setting: Russia, 2020

Summary: Still trapped in the Mountain of the Dead, Feyre faces the horrors of the Russian general and must fight for her own sanity through the nightmare around her.

Ship: N/A

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,345

A/N: Part 2 of my Modern ACOTAR AU. As before, some lines come directly from ACOTAR and belong to Sarah J. Maas.

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Identity Crisis

Who were you? Your mind was repeating the same question over and over again like a mantra, both arms curled into your chest. The room was shaking harshly, matching the pace of your shivering. Cannon fire was heavy in the air, the constant yells of nearby men doing nothing to calm your thoughts. Who were you? You wanted to scream, to cry, to shout, to thrash, to let your anger and frustration out, but instead you simply sat still, knees pulled up and eyes staring blankly ahead. Who were you?

“(Y/N),” a sweet, familiar voice called above you, one large hand dropping onto your clothed knee. A friendly face came into view, two blue eyes shining with worry. “Sweetheart, I need to get you out of here.” You nodded slowly, your gaze unfocused as the eerily familiar man lifted you to both feet. “Whatever you do, don’t let go of me.” You could only stumble forward as he began his sprint, the jolt of your feet against the hard floor feeling awkward. It was a blur of sights and sounds, your own mind focused on your breathing. Why couldn’t you remember? What were you trying to remember? It didn’t seem to matter at the moment, the chaos ensuing around you determined to wipe the fragmented memories from your mind.

“(Y/N)!” A voice screamed out, followed by a long string of curses and an abrupt thump. You refocused your stare, looking towards the origin of the sound. A gasp left you in horror, the sight in front of you causing your feet to stop. A man lay there, covered in his own blood, splintered pieces of the ship and stray bullets were embedded down the length of his body, his face almost unrecognizable under the blood and wounds. It was enough to make your blood run cold. But strangely enough, the sight wasn’t alien. In fact, you could almost picture other times you’d seen different people in positions similar to that man’s. You scrunched your brows together, willing the broken and bloodied body to give you some sort of answer. Two arms reached through the fog in your mind, roughly pulling back to reality. Your back slammed against the unforgiving wood, your soft palms scratching along the surface.

“Look out!” The same voice from earlier yelled, his body covering you like a shield as the ship rocked, water and wood splashing alike. Flames licked your right wrist, warm liquid pouring from your other side. Your lips were parted, whimpers leaving your throat, breathing shallow, and body pinned beneath the limp body lying atop you. The seconds dragged into eternity, the sun shining proudly in the sky slowly dimming from your vision. Before you lost sense entirely, you heard a final call of, “Captain.”

You were jolted out of a dreamless sleep, the endless dark parted by a cool breeze. The wind was breathing life back into you, your muscles groaning in protest as you tried to sit up. Where were you? Your eyes darted around fearfully, your pulse quickening at the unknown. Better yet, who were you?

“Easy, lass.” A softly accented voice spoke from the corner of the darkened room, his features delved in shadow.

“Where,” you cleared your throat, scratchiness from disuse causing discomfort. “Where am I?” He seemed hesitant for a moment, his feet finally hitting the ground beneath him. There was no malice in his movements, concern etched into his features.

“How much do you remember?” He asked softly, slowly stepping into the light. He had his lips parted in concentration, his dark eyes searching your own. His black hair was tousled, an obvious sign that he’d been running his fingers through it. Another step brought him closer, his muscled frame and vast array of weaponry doing nothing to quell your fear. Hostility took over despite his friendly gestures. It was an almost natural response, as if this is what you’d been trained to do. Were you trained to do it? You almost broke your defensive stance, your mind wandering away in confusion. 

“Relax, love, I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone was soft, accent sweet. “I’m Shay, and you are?” You simply watched him for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably between the two of you. It might’ve been the look in his eyes or the frustration in yourself, but something had you replying.

“I, uh, I don’t remember.” You admitted weakly, gaze dropping to your fingers as they fumbled awkwardly with the blanket. The floorboard creaked loudly in the quiet of the room, an indication that Shay had taken another step forward.

“My men and I, we found you,” he began his explanation, his stare boring into the top of your head. “You were on a ship headed to New York, as a prisoner, I presume.” You nodded, the sounds of cannon fire and shouts still fresh in your mind. And the body… Had you known that man? Did you even want to know if you did? “You were injured.” He continued. You’d figured that one out on your own, the ever present stab in your side being a very constant reminder. 

“We brought you to New York. It’s been a few weeks.” His calm voice did nothing to counteract your rushing thoughts; confusion, frustration, and fear all bubbling into one. The room felt too hot, the objects in your gaze spinning out of control in time with your mind.

“What about the rest of them?” You asked him, voice breathless as you attempted to gain some semblance back. You inhaled shakily, your eyes going back up to him.

“They won’t hurt you anymore.” The sides of his lips turned up into a friendly smile, the action making him look all the more attractive. Were they trying to hurt you? You didn’t think so. In fact, they had seemed like they were trying to protect you.

“Who were they?” You inquired, hoping that it might help jog some of your memories.

“Enemies.” He shrugged, setting himself on the bed you occupied. He was just out of reach, worry for you clearly displayed. Why would he be worried for you? He didn’t even know you! “How are your wounds, lass?” You shifted your gaze from him to the angry, red skin marring your wrist, quite obviously left over from the fires.

“I’m fine.” You whispered. But you weren’t fine. You were anything but fine. You wanted to know where you were, who those men on the boat were, why you were attacked, what you had been doing, but most importantly, you wanted to know who you were. Your vision blurred, the onslaught of tears held back by your teeth sinking painfully into your lip. You refused to let them fall, something that must’ve been a habit for you at one time. Shay placed a hand on your shoulder, forcing your gaze to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He promised, eyebrows knit together. One look into his kind eyes and you snapped, your arms wrapping around his neck and your head burrowing into his chest. After a moment of reluctant hesitation, he brought both arms around you, keeping his hands around your waist. A confused sob bubbled up from your throat, all the frustration pouring out of you in the form of hot, salty tears. You couldn’t stop yourself, Shay’s hand rubbing circles on your back keeping you comfort in the lonely feeling of being lost in the world. 

He was like an anchor, holding you in place despite how rough the waters were. It was odd that a stranger would be as much as a comfort as he was, but his smooth voice whispering soft words into your ear was enough to keep the oddity at bay. Once your breathing finally evened out and your tears stopped coming, you pulled away from Shay’s embrace, albeit reluctantly. He was sporting a half smile, his thumb swiping away the last tear that threatened to fall. His face was so close to yours, your breaths intermingling. For a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. Only he didn’t, he simply smiled sadly and watched you intently.

“How about we get you cleaned up,” Shay suggested, “And then we can have proper introductions.” You wanted to open your mouth, to argue how you couldn’t give him a “proper introduction” because you didn’t know who you were, but he cut you off. “I’ll help you, love.” He explained.

“What?” You breathed, wide eyes looking at him curiously. Why would he help you? Why would he care?

“We’ll discover your identity.” He promised, nothing but honest intent on his face. For the first time in your memory, no matter how blank, did you truly smile. His grin widened at the emotion your were displaying.

“Thank you, Shay.” You couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him in for a hug once more. He reciprocated much quicker this time, almost as if he was as eager to be back in your embrace as you were his. Something washed over you, something foreign, something akin to hope. Perhaps you’d find out your past or perhaps not. But either way, you were certain your future couldn’t be too terrible if you had Shay’s help to look forward to.

One of my favourite flirtation options with Cullen is asking him if he’s taken any vows of celibacy. Since it’s one of the earliest options, I also feel like it’s possibly the moment when Cullen starts to wonder, if maybe.. just maybe, the inquisitor herald is interested in him. So I wrote a drabble. 

“A life of service and sacrifice. Are templars also expected to give up… physical temptations?” Saragra tilted her head slightly and looked up at Cullen. She’d been curious about the templar order - as a Dalish apostate, she knew only enough to stay the hell away from the Templars. Now that she was working with the handsome commander, she wanted to know more about the order, but her traitorous heart had quickly led her astray.

Cullen’s eyes widened slightly as the question took him by surprise.

“Physical? Why -” he cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “Why would you -That’s not expected. Templars can marry, al-although there are rules around it, and the order must grant permission. Some may chose to give up… more, to prove their devotion, but it’s… not required” he replied, choosing his words carefully.

Saragra paused a moment, trying to conceal her grin at the question that popped into her head. Oh, this was dangerous territory, but she needed to know.

“Have you?”

“Me. I’ve, um, uh. No! I’ve taken no such vows. Maker’s breath, can we speak of something else?” Cullen was sure he was blushing to the roots of his hair. Why was the Herald asking about vows of celibacy? She, she couldn’t be…

Saragra smiled up at Cullen again, and he was struck by two realizations. She was looking at him as if she’d just won some grand victory. And she was beautiful.

“I should check in with Cassandra. I will talk with you later, perhaps?” She turned on her heel and sauntered away. Cullen stared at her as she walked away, completely blindsided by her questions. His thoughts were further scattered when he noticed the sway of her hips, which was only exaggerated by the movement of her staff on her back. He groaned and turned back to the training recruits.

“You there! There’s a shield in your hand, block with it! If this man was your enemy, you’d be dead!”


Later that night, he was lying in his bed staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the Herald out of his mind. How she’d stepped closer to him to ask her question, and had to look up at him. The smile that was somehow sly and delighted when he’d fumbled over his words. And her question, maker, why did she want to know if he’d taken vows of Celibacy? Was she interested in him? Was she teasing him and he’d read too much into it? He rolled over and buried his head in his pillow.

Maker’s breath, he was in trouble.