Tumgik
#I’m a band kid too I have like no room to talk
ghost-bxrd · 18 hours
Note
Hi! I was wondering how Talon! Dick would react to Jason getting hurt during patrol or maybe getting sick and leaving him unable to talk, or when he does it's super raspy and quiet, and he can barely make his own noises too? 🦉
Okidoki let’s go with him being sick! (Cuz, you know, him being hurt and unable to talk… at all, is gonna happen in about… oh! Thirty days!) If it’s the first time it happens, Dick absolutely assumes Jason is dying and panics accordingly.
You know that stupid cold where you wake up one morning after feeling completely fine the day before but suddenly your throat feels like you swallows razors and any sound you try to make is like a crow on crack? Yeah. Like that.
Dick absolutely loses it and starts going straight into hardcore survival mode. Jason gets squirreled away into the most remote place in the manor with dozens of blankets and pillows. Food and water vanishes from the kitchens, along with whatever kind of first aid meds and utensils he can scrounge from the cave before Bruce comes back.
When Alfred and Bruce return from a gala… the manor is quiet. Too quiet. And Bruce immediately heads to Dick and Jason’s rooms only to find them both empty. Cue: Bruce and Alfred start panicking because the place looks like a tornado blew through it. The nests are gone, everything is in disarray, and the boys are nowhere in sight.
Conclusion: a kidnapping must have occurred.
So while Batman inspires the fear of god in every small time criminal and rogue on the streets by being MUCH MORE violent than usual (by the end of the night everyone knows to stay indoors if you’re crooked cuz the Bat’s gone crazy looking for his birds) and some of the more sensible rogues band together to find out who took Talon and Robin (nobody), Dick is still freaking out because he’s sure Jason is dying (he’s not, calm down Dickiebird).
Jason just lays back and allows the smothering (and is very happy when he finally manages to get Dick to bring him a pen and notepad for communication), Dick calms down considerably once they’ve established Jason is just a little sick (“Yes, cuddles actually help. No I’m not shitting you, they do! Btw get me some ibuprofen pls”) and not, in fact, dying. (Dick doesn’t fully believe it but Jason is still snarky so it can’t be too bad quite yet right?)
Alfred ends up finding them while Dick is down in the kitchens searching for the ibuprofen and very nearly starts yelling before thinking better of it (he was very worried okay cut him some slack).
Thirty minutes later Bruce is also back at the manor (after nearly causing several head on collisions) and hovering anxiously, torn between lecturing his kids and just— holding them and never letting go.
60 notes · View notes
macklemore1648 · 2 days
Text
North Shore High
summary: Regina George obsessed with the new girl?
Tumblr media
being a new student wasn’t always easy, especially when it was your senior year. i didn’t know that walking into my first day of senior year i would run into the queen bitch bee.
“you!” she said with a finger pointing at me. i looked around confused maybe thinking she was talking to someone behind me.
“yes you come here.” i don’t usually listen to people who boss me around or expect they can get any special treatment from anyone, but my legs seemed to have a mind of their own, and next thing i know i was standing right in front of her.
“i um- im new here it’s my first day.” it came out a little bit more quiet than i intended it too.
she nodded and then turned around walking the opposite direction of me. that’s when i had noticed the two girls following after her.
omg. she thinks she runs this place?
//
“students we have a new student joining you in your home room. miss y/n y/ln. i would like you all to be very respectful and please welcome her.”
“thank you principal Duvall, now go ahead and have a seat y/n this is a very important class and if you don’t listen you might fall behind.” said Mrs. Norbury
i nodded quietly and walked over to an empty desk, thankfully it was more towards the back.
“so what parts are you from around?” said a voice behind me.
“i’m from washington actually.” him and his friend who i just noticed sitting next to him nodded slowly.
“damian and this is janis.” he said pointing in between him and the girl.
“y/n.” you said with a friendly smile.
the next three periods where all pretty much the same, i get introduced and then sit down and listen to the teacher talk for the rest of the class. walking into 4th period i didn’t expect to see the same blonde i had ran into earlier this morning. her eyes where watching me the second i had walked into the classroom, i scanned for empty seats and of course the only seat emptied was right behind her. i avoided eye contact with her while i was walking to the desk.
once i sat down i was immediately hit with the smell of very expensive perfume and was that lavender? shampoo?
i pushed myself as far away from her as i could in my seat that magically stuck to the desk. once the bell rang and the teacher started talking.
“what’s your name loser?” she whipped around her seat.
“um it’s y/n.” she nodded slowly looking very deep into my eyes, that made me shift uncomfortably, before turning around.
“your not going to tell me yours?” i leaned a little forward and almost whispered it so the teacher didn’t hear me talking.
“you haven’t heard about me yet?” she turned just enough around that i could see her eyes and a small smirk coming onto her lips.
and she’s full of herself? what the hell is this school?
i didn’t say anything waiting for her to answer with her name.
she rolled her eyes a little bit before answering. “it’s Regina, Regina Grorge.”
i nodded this time slouching back into my seat.
“im kind of a big deal around here.” she said nonchalantly. it was my turn to raise my eyebrows to the sky.
“what are you like the principals daughter? or a drug dealer?”
“no i’m just hot and popular. don’t you agree?” this time she was turned fully around with her hands on my desk and her head titled a little to the side.
i opened my mouth to say something but nothing was coming out. with my mouth slightly opened and my burrows furrowed she smirked and turned back around.
who the hell was this girl?
//
lunchtime is when i knew i was going to get the most anxiety because everyone already had their groups. i couldn’t just butt into a group and sit at any random table. like any other high school i’ve been too there was the obvious cliches.
the jocks, the goths, the cheerleaders, the band kids, what looked like the stoners?
and then there was Regina and her two other friends that followed her around like lost puppy’s.
“those are the plastics.” i heard the same voice from earlier, i turned to see damian and janis standing behind me.
“the plastics?” i said with one brow raised.
they both nodded slowly at me.
“because they’re too perfect and too pretty like a plastic barbie doll.” they said as if it all made sense.
“i would avoid talking to any of them honestly.”
“y/n!!” i heard Regina say. i turned around to see her using one finger to tell me to come to her. i looked back over and damian and ianis who both just shook their heads to tell me it was a bad idea.
“i’ll be right back.” i really had to let this girl know that i was not one of her lost puppy’s and wouldn’t come to her side whenever she demanded.
“why don’t you sit with us today?” she said in almost too friendly voice i even saw her friend with an expression like a deer caught in headlights.
“Regina she can’t sit with us she doesn’t know any of the rules.” she squeaked out still trying to sound friendly.
“the rules don’t matter right now, go ahead sit.” she said with a smile that looked almost genuine but i wasn’t falling for her traps.
“oh no thanks i already found some people to sit with.” i said with a forced smile.
“then you better sit with us tomorrow or ill be very upset.” she had a very serious look on her face that almost scared me but i just gave her a thumbs up and turned around.
a thumbs up?! are you serious! i mentally slapped myself in the face. remind me never again to give the prettiest girl in school a fucking thumbs up.
//
finally my first school day was over and i could go back to my house and read peacefully. but of course that didn’t happen because Regina George pulled up right in front of me almost hitting me with her expensive jeep. i was ready to curse her out until i looked up and saw the look on her face.
“i’m having a little get together at my house this weekend, you should come it’ll be a fun way for you to meet people.” she had a small smile and a soft look in her big green eyes.
“here’s my number, text me and i’ll send you the details.” she slid me a piece of paper and let her fingers linger almost a second too long in my hand, before she winked and drove away from the parking lot.
i drove home in my not as expensive honda civic. i played with the piece of paper in my hand and looked down at her number so much to the point i almost memorized it. her numbers where very neat and almost all came together with soft curves.
i didn’t know anything about this girl which sent warning sirens off in my head whenever i looked at her. she seemed like somebody you didn’t want to mess around with.
46 notes · View notes
steddierthings · 1 year
Text
Okay another sad scenario I love to torment myself with is based on the idea that people are always sort of apologizing for Steve and he fucking hates it. Started with his parents saying shit to their friends like “oh you’ll have to excuse Steve, he’s never been much for academics” and other backhanded stuff like that. Or Tommy, “don’t worry about Steve, he never did have the balls to do some real damage, but he’s not afraid to take a punch”
Then he would hear Nancy say to Barb, “come on, I know he’s a bit of an idiot, but he’s sweet, you just have to get to know him.”
Or Dustin to Mike, “Dude, look, he can be a douchebag, I agree, but you gotta give him a chance, he can drive us everywhere.”
Or Robin to her fellow band nerds, “Sure he’s a loser prep but he’s cool, I promise.”
Then he starts dating Eddie. One day early on in the relationship, someone had said something that set Steve ranting to Eddie about how he doesn’t need people to make fucking excuses for him, he doesn’t give a shit what other people think (he gives so many shits) and he thinks he’s a pretty decent person when it comes down to it (he does not think this at all), so people need to stop apologizing for him. Eddie listens to him and the more he listens, the more he takes Steve seriously, the more he sees the hurt beneath the anger, the more Steve talks. And eventually the rant morphs into a quiet plea for Eddie to help him understand why his friends, people who are supposed to love him, feel the need to put all these caveats around him just to make their friends stand him. It makes him feel like shit.
Eddie is furious on his behalf, swears he’ll never do that to Steve, “I’m so proud to be with you, I’m so proud to be your friend, and anyone who doesn’t feel the same isn’t worth your time.” “Even Henderson?” “Even Henderson.” And because Eddie has only ever made him feel good, like he’s somebody worth loving, Steve believes him.
Then one day Steve’s leaving his house to meet Eddie and his friends at the Hideout. It’ll be the first time he’s met and hung out with Eddie’s friends and he wants it to go perfectly. He even borrows a shirt from Eddie since everything he owns would stand out like a sore thumb. But just as he’s about to go out the door, his parents’ car rolls in unexpectedly and they get out with two of their friends.
Steve’s caught. His parents usher their friends and Steve back inside and while his mom fixes them drinks, his dad discreetly drags him to the other room, grips his arm so hard Steve knows there will be bruises later. “Get your ass upstairs and get some presentable fucking clothes on, you look like a degenerate.” Steve doesn’t have a choice so he puts on some khakis and a navy polo shirt, checks that the sleeves cover the red spots his dad just left, scrubs off the eyeliner he’d been so excited to surprise Eddie with, and heads downstairs for a torturous half hour of socializing.
By the time they’re ready to release him, after he’s been thoroughly apologized for (“we tried and tried, but we never could get him to take school seriously, could we, Steven?” and “he’ll get his shit together eventually, right, Steve? Just needs to do a little time at these dead end jobs, work the laziness out of his system before he joins the firm”), he’s already late and he decides he’d rather look out of place than have Eddie think Steve stood him up. Eddie’s standing in the side parking lot outside the hideout smoking a cigarette and looking agitated, but he smiles wide when he spots Steve pulling up. He bounds over to the car and opens the door before Steve can. He laughs his head off when Steve gets out and Steve doesn’t mind the ribbing when it’s just Eddie, so he laughs a little too. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you didn’t have to spend half an hour having forced to listen to the Michaelson’s talk about their perfect daughter and her four-point-oh first year at Wesleyan.”
“Aw, baby, did you have to act like a spoiled rich kid tonight?” Eddie leans against the car beside Steve to finish his cigarette. Steve hasn’t quite told Eddie about the reality of his parents, hasn’t wanted to spend their time together wallowing in his own misery when his life could be so much worse. So Steve smirks a little and puts on an exaggerated pout.
“Yeah and it sucked,” he says.
Eddie finishes his cigarette, checks that they’re sufficiently hidden from view, and gathers Steve up in his arms. “You better tuck that bottom lip away or you’re gonna trip on it,” he teases, and Steve smiles.
“Why don’t you tuck it away for me, Munson?” Eddie’s eyes light up the way they always do when Steve flirts with him, as if he’s still surprised about it, and obliges with a sharp little nip followed by soothing lick. Steve leans in and lets Eddie kiss away the misery of being around his parents, but he doesn’t let it go on too long, conscious that Eddie’s friends are waiting and their low impression of Steve is probably falling even more the longer they think he’s late. He gently disentangles himself with one last kiss and they head inside.
The guys are posted up at a high top table already. Eddie introduces everyone and Steve immediately forgets all their names, which doesn’t help his nerves. They’re all glaring at him. “You’re late,” the one Steve thinks is called Gary says.
Over Eddie’s “come on, man” Steve says, “yeah, sorry, had some family stuff.” He tugs at the sleeve of his polo, unconsciously making sure the finger marks are hidden. Then he does the only thing he knows to do to make people like him and throws his money at the situation. “You guys want anything to drink? I’ll get the next round.”
The drinks — beer for Eddie, Steve, and Jeff (maybe? Josh?), Cokes for the rest of them—ease the tension a smidgen, and the guys go from openly hostile to mostly pretending he’s not there as they talk about an upcoming campaign and the rival metal band playing later that night. Eddie tries to draw Steve in, and he does his best to look engaged, but he only cares about this shit when it’s Eddie talking about it. Gary going on about padawans or whatever can’t quite keep his attention.
Even so, Steve thinks it’s going okay. He’s laughing and nodding where it seems appropriate, making vaguely agreeable comments when Eddie prompts him. Eddie only shoots him a couple of weird looks so he’s probably not saying anything too stupid. It’s not the worst way to spend an evening, especially because Eddie keeps giving him little nudges and winks so Steve doesn’t feel ignored. But it’s not necessary, even though Steve appreciates it. He’s content to let them visit with each other and keep his conversational contributions to a minimum.  
But of course it can never last. Steve excuses himself to the bathroom, partly because he has to go, partly because the din of the bar and the pressure of making a good impression and the lingering stress of being around his parents have exhausted him and he needs a minute. He does his business, splashes water on his face, and only grips the sink to gather his strength for a few seconds before heading back. Arriving at the table turns everyone’s attention to him. Eddie grins at him, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that Steve doesn’t understand, and the others are back to glaring. Uncomfortable, Steve gives them all a grimace of a smile, which apparently Jeff/Josh takes as a signal to address him directly for the first time that night. He eyes Steve up and down and says, “Harrington, man, I gotta ask. What the fuck are you wearing?”
His tone isn’t overly combative, could maybe even be (generously) interpreted as the same teasing that Eddie subjected him to outside, if Steve wants to be optimistic, so he lets out a nervous chuckle. He doesn’t know what to say, though. Doesn’t know how to explain about the expectations and the disapproval and the five fingerprints on his bicep already turning black and blue. He’s too drained, though, to come up with a joke or comeback. So he just stares at the guy, mute. 
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Eddie swoops in with a sharp laugh. Steve cuts his eyes to him, and Eddie raises his eyebrows like what is going on? Uh oh. Maybe things weren’t going as well as he thought. With no answr from Steve, Eddie turns back to the guys. “You’ll have to excuse Stevie here, he didn’t get the memo about the dress code. No FBLA clones allowed.” 
His tone is light, joking, but it catches Steve in the gut. There’s a roaring in his ears as Eddie’s friends crack up around him and all he can hear is “You’ll have to excuse...” Eddie promised. He promised. 
Before Steve can say anything, the conversation’s moved on. He doesn’t even bother to try to join in now. That familiar burn of humiliation and rejection wells up in him, clogs his throat, makes him feel mean. Every time Eddie looks over at him, Steve blatantly ignores him. Bats his hand away the next time it nudges him. Someone, he won’t even pretend to remember their names now, asks him a question and he snaps back an answer. Doesn’t even flinch at Eddie’s harsh, “Steve!” Tension has crept back into the group and he can feel them all watching him like he’s a wild animal about to attack. They’re not wrong. 
At one point he goes to the bar and orders a shot of whiskey. Downs it and orders another to take back to the table. Before he can toss that one back, Eddies snags it out of his hand and says, “Okay, we’re done here.” Steve doesn’t need the hand Eddie presses to his back to propel him out of the venue. He’s halfway to his car before Eddie catches up. Steve doesn’t slow down, but once he gets into his car and sees that Eddie’s rounded to the other side, he unlocks the door for him and sits sullenly as his furious boyfriend slams himself into the seat.
“What the fuck was that, Steve?” 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t play that game. You were a fucking asshole in there. You’ve been an asshole the whole night.” 
That slices through Steve’s rage, and he lets out a bewildered, “What?” He’d thought things were fine until the end. He’d been doing everything right - not intruding on their conversation, making benign comments to show he was listening without letting them know how lost he was, he’d bought them drinks...but apparently he was wrong.
“You couldn’t have looked more bored if you tried. You barely said a word, and when you did, it was clear you were barely paying attention. You called Jeff the wrong name--twice!” Fuck. He’d fucked up so bad. 
“Eddie, I didn’t mean--”
But Eddie’s on a roll, gesturing theatrically in his anger. “I didn’t think you were like this anymore, man. I thought King Steve was no more. But apparently one annoying interaction with your parents is enough to bring him charging back in.”  
Steve runs a hand over his upper arm as if trying to warm it. He thinks back over the earlier part of the night, reexamining every interaction under this new interpretation. Maybe he can see how Eddie, so used to everyone around him being loud and talking over each other, excited just to be together, would take Steve’s reticence tonight as boredom and disdain. But that’s not right, and Steve can’t have him thinking it. His heart pounds in his chest and it’s fear he’s feeling. Fear that he’s about to lose the single best thing (minus Robin) to ever happen to him if he doesn’t do something. “Eddie, that’s not what was happening, I swear. You have to believe--” 
“Whatever, man.” Eddie shakes his head, looks away from Steve. Steve wants to reach out, tug him back so they’re facing, but every part of Eddie screams Don’t touch me. He shakes his head again, as if the first time wasn’t enough to convey his disgust. “This King Steve act, it’s such fucking bullshit.” 
For the second time that night, Steve hears a roaring in his ears, an echo of slurred words slamming into him like bullets. No, you. You’re bullshit. It’s bullshit. It’s such fucking bullshit. He thinks he might throw up. 
“Get out of the car.” 
Eddie finally looks back, rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting out of the car, man. We’re going to talk about this.” 
“Get out of the car, Eddie.” He starts the engine, puts the car in drive, waits.
“I’m not getting out of the car.” Eddie grabs at the seatbelt as if to prove it and Steve loses the small bit of control he was holding onto. 
“I said get out of the goddamn car!” Eddie’s eyes widen and he lets go of the buckle, which clatters against the door. 
“Steve--” 
“Eddie, if you don’t get out of the car in the next two seconds, I am going to lose my goddamn mind.” 
And whatever Eddie sees as he gapes at him must make him believe it because he opens the door and slides out. He stands holding the door, and Steve turns toward him.
“You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve always been bullshit, I guess I didn’t get the memo that wasn’t allowed.” 
Whatever Eddie opens his mouth to respond is lost as Steve peels away, the passenger door slamming shut on its own. 
He drives home in a confusing mix of rage and hurt and disappointment, embarrassment and self-hatred. He wants to cry, feels the tears burn at the backs of his eyes, but he pinches the bridge of his nose, breathes hard, and keeps it together. 
-----------
Part Two
4K notes · View notes
starkidmunson · 2 months
Text
glitter & crimson
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
It’s both exciting and terrifying to be in Chicago when they arrive Thursday afternoon. This is, unfortunately, very often as close to hometown shows as the band gets to these days. They have the night off, before the show tomorrow, when the band will find out if Steve and his friends actually show up to the gig or not. Despite not having a show, the band doesn’t get the whole day off; Paige had booked a few radio interviews before the gig to drum up attention.
He should have seen it coming when the radio host brought up the TikTok exchange. “So, be honest, have you guys coordinated with Harrington and his friends to get him to your show tomorrow?” 
“Not really. Our manager sent info and Steve gave it a thumbs up, but that’s really been it? But we’ve been busy with shows almost every night, and he’s had a lot of travel games the last few days, so we’ll have to wait and see if he’s able to make it out.” Jeff takes over the answer with ease, probably having predicted the attention.
“Did you really not recognize him, Eddie?” The host goads and Eddie lets himself chuckle.
“It may sound kind of ridiculous, but the genuine answer is yeah. I haven’t seen him in, like, 6 years. And, believe it or not, we didn’t exactly run in the same crowds. We knew of one another, I think, but there were hundreds of kids in our school.” Eddie always defaults to the truth in interviews; it’s the simplest route and leaves less room for people to poke holes in the narrative if he’s just honest.
“Will you guys be going to the Blackhawks game on Saturday?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, man,” Gareth laughs, and just as quickly as the segment started, it’s over with their own latest hit playing them out of the studio.
A Thursday night off in the city wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but the band collectively made a trip to the bar closest to their hotel for wings and a few drinks. One of the guys must have posted something on social media about being out because as Eddie’s walking into his hotel, he happens to check his TikTok to find a message waiting for him.
harrington94 should I take it personally that you guys went out in my town and didn’t ask for recs or anything? 
eddiecc I honestly figured you’d be too busy and didn’t want to bother you.
harrington94 never too busy to show a friend around town. But I do appreciate having a down day, so thanks. 
Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how to answer as he processed Steve’s message. Friends? Is that what they were? Could they even really consider one another that? He ultimately decided not to think too much of it, in favor of keeping the conversation going. Maybe the more they talked, the less awkward the next two nights would be.
eddiecc I totally get it if you want to skip the show in favor of another down day.
harrington94 no backing out on me now, Munson. I’ve finally got the cool card with the Party. We’ll be there, no doubt.
Eddie feels a little smile creep over his face and his ears feel a little warm, but before he can answer that, text bubbles pop up again. He waits to see what else Steve is going to say before he does something embarrassing.
harrington94 now feels like a safe time to confess that I haven’t really listened to much of your music, though, so don’t think I’m rude if I’m not headbanging along with the boys.
That was more like the interaction Eddie had expected from their TikTok exchange. He never expected Steve to know their music and was shocked he even knew their band name when his response had been posted on TikTok.
eddiecc I honestly cannot exactly say I’m surprised to hear this. You never exactly struck me as a headbanger, anyway.
harrington94 i feel like that’s some kind of thinly veiled insult that I’m missing, but you’re not wrong.
The text bubbles appear again, and Eddie waits for him to finish the thought rather than respond.
harrington94 why don’t you text me instead? It feels easier than paying attention to this app I don’t really know how to use.
Eddie was quick to copy the number Steve sent and shoot off a text, weirdly enjoying the exchange the two were having and not ready to call it a night just yet.
__________
A particularly ridiculous meme from Eddie had Steve snorting from his spot lounging across the sofa. The next thing he knew, a pillow was flying at his face. He was able to react quickly enough to block it with his arm, dropping the phone to his chest, before glaring at Robin. She was watching him from the recliner across the living room.
“What the fuck?” He asks, tossing the pillow back in her general direction, more gently than she’d tossed it his way.
“You’re grinning at your phone like you’re setting up a hot date. Please don’t tell me you’re talking to Heidi again.” Robin pleads dramatically, twisting her body in the chair to face him. 
“I’m not grinning at my phone, shut up.” He grumbles, ignoring how hot his neck feels as he blushes. Instead, he picks his phone back up to finish the thought he’d been typing before he’d been interrupted. “I’m just texting with Eddie, that’s all.”
Robin’s eyes widened immediately, and she sprung from the recliner toward the sofa. “Give me your phone!” She demands, grunting as she fell face first into the sofa, missing Steve by an inch. He manuveres away from her without looking up from his phone, making his way down the hall to his room. “Steve, come on!”
“It’s not a big deal! We’re just talking! It’s fine!” He insists, tucking the phone into his back pocket as he turns into his bedroom.
But maybe it was a big deal? Steve couldn’t tell; this was the part he was never really good at. He had a tendency to miss signs everyone else thought were obvious, and he didn’t want to risk making things weird with Eddie if Robin thought he was missing something that wasn’t actually there. The texts with Eddie had shifted from Steve confessing his knowledge of Corroded Coffin was strictly limited to whatever the Party played in the car when he drove them places, to Eddie confessing he knew next to nothing about hockey. It seemed to level the playing field between the two of them, and at least made Steve feel more at ease about the time they’d be spending together between the concert and the game. 
When Steve had asked how the tour was going so far, Eddie had shared a link to an instagram, where fans were finding something to meme from each night of the shows. To which Jeff and Gareth were making memes in response, picking on one another in a way that felt like with some of his teammates. The message that had prompted the most reaction from Steve was the last thing Eddie had sent before Robin threw the pillow; a meme of Eddie looking confused, which Jeff had edited “So he’s not Joe Jonas?” over his head.
In his room, Steve leans over to pick up his charger, but he feels his phone lift free from his pocket. “Hey!” He calls after Robin, who’s sprinting down the hallway, laughing like the menace she is.
“I just want to see what you’re talking about!” Robin says, unlocking his phone. He’s just about to catch up to her, as she slides on her socks into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, right in his face. 
“You’re being a child, Robs, c’mon. Give me my phone back.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the door. He jiggles the handle, but as he’d guessed, she’d locked it behind her.
“Do you like him?” She asks through the door, and he sighs again.
“I don’t know,” He answers, honestly and exhaustedly. “I don’t even know him, you know? We weren’t friends, it’s not like I could tell you anything about him other than Tommy used to buy weed from him and he would stand on tables and yell in the cafeteria.”
There’s a long silence before Robin opens the door, meeting Steve with a little smile. She shoves the phone back into his chest and pats his hand when he takes it from her. “I think this could be good for you. That this could be good for you.”
“I’m trying not to read too hard into it.” Steve mumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He glances back down at the screen, to see what while Robin had taken the phone, Eddie had sent another text.
Eddie: How were your games? Are you doing anything special for your day off?
It makes something twist in his chest, that Eddie even cares, and he doesn’t quite know why. It must show on his face, some part of how he’s feeling, because Robin just smiles and nods. Maybe she knows how he feels, part of their weird unspoken telepathy, because she walks further into her room and pats the edge of her bed as she goes.
“Are you going to let me paint your nails for the concert?” She asks. Everything inside of Steve appreciates how she always knows when to give him space to try and figure his shit out on his own.
“Obviously.” He laughs softly, following her into the bedroom to sit on her bed and watch her move around collecting things to paint his nails.
~~~
The following day, Steve spends more time than he would like to admit picking out an outfit to wear to the concert. He can hear the Party starting to get antsy in the living room, even though they’d still be plenty early if they left right now, so he decides to just roll with the white shirt and fitted khakis he’d dressed himself in several hours ago before he started overthinking his choices. He finished the outfit off with a black zip-up fleece and black and white Nikes. 
A final check of his hair had him walking out of his room and into the living room, where chaos erupted.
“It’s about time!” Dustin exclaims, practically bouncing up and down with excitement on the sofa.
“It took you that long to come out looking like that?” Mike asks, but Max just snorts and shoves his shoulder.
“Let’s just go.” Steve rolls his eyes, glancing over at Robin who jingles car keys she’s already holding, before leading the way out of the apartment.
In the car, he shoots Eddie a quick text to let him know they’re on the way. Eddie’s quick to reply, giving the message a thumbs-up reaction. Unbelievably, the Party somehow manages to get even louder than usual once they were inside, and it doesn’t take long for a security guard to find them. They’re led through the back tunnels of Wintrust Arena, and Steve gets a little nostalgic for playing hockey in college. He’s snapped out of it when a girl passes out their pass lanyards and gives each of the Party a voucher for free drinks and snacks. 
“This is too much, really,” Steve protests as she hands him the voucher, but Paige insists with a kind smile. 
“We get this kind of stuff from every venue and rarely get to use it to its full extent. The guys want to do this for you and your friends, just enjoy it.”
The Party loads up on treats at the nearest food station, while Steve and Robin grab beers with Paige. As she collects her drink, Paige hands Steve a palm-sized bag of earplugs. He frowns at them, which makes her laugh. 
“Eddie said this isn't really your usual kind of scene, and these shows can get loud,” she taps her own ears to show she has similar earplugs in. “Should also help prevent headaches or anything else that might keep you off the ice tomorrow.”
“Please, he’s too stubborn to stay off the ice. The amount of migraines he’s played through is outrageous,” Dustin bounds back into the conversation, earning a chuckle from Robin. Steve throws his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, pulling him just a little too close and too tight. Dustin exaggerates choking noises, flailing around and making a scene, but Steve refuses to let up.
_____
There’s more anxiety than usual thrumming through Eddie as he and Jeff make their way through the arena, to where Paige had said she’d take Steve and his friends for snacks. As they walk up on the group, however, Steve quickly pulls a younger boy with a head full of curls into a headlock. He lets the scene continue for a moment before he nudges Jeff.
“At what point fo you think we should intervene?” He asks with a smile, making Jeff chuckle. Steve, however, freezes, then shoves Dustin away. He turns to give Eddie a sheepish smile, and Eddie can’t help but raise an eyebrow. 
Steve lets out a huff of a laugh, running his fingers through his hair, shrugging and tipping his head in the boy’s direction. “This is Dustin. He’s like my little brother. I’m allowed to pick on him when he’s being a shithead.” Dustin nudges his elbow into Steve’s gut, who’s quick to smack his arm in response. Before Eddie can stop himself, he’s twisting a curl around his finger and biting back a grin. He does, however, make a conscious effort to not chew on his hair. He knows he’d never hear the end of it, fawning over Steve Harrington after a whole 10 seconds.
Eddie offers a hand out to Dustin, hoping Jeff and Paige would let his little tells fly under the radar. Just this once, they seem to, as he greets the Party. “Hey man, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”
“I know who you are, holy shit, man.” Dustin eventually fumbles through, shaking Eddie’s hand and grinning up at him. 
Steve rattles off the introductions for each kid, like a proud mom, and Eddie greets each of them politely, but his eyes keep falling back on Steve. He catches his little smiles and the way he nudges different members of the Party, squeezes their shoulders, ruffles their hair. It’s gentle and sweet and it sends a warm feeling through Eddie’s chest. His smile softens as he watches their interactions. All too soon, Freak leans into the area they’ve gathered in and whistles.
“Shit, guys, we gotta go.” Jeff sighs, and Eddie pats his shoulder before he turns back to the group with a grin. 
“Just hang with Paige and try not to get into too much trouble, we’ll get drinks after?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve, who smiles back and gives a little nod.
As Eddie runs to catch up with Jeff and Freak, he wonders exactly what he’s gotten himself into here.
____
It’s more fun than Steve expects, the concert. The excitement of watching the show from the suite quickly bores the Party, as they realize it’s the same as watching hockey games from a guest box. They eat their snacks and drink some through the openers, but during the break before Corroded Coffin, Lucas and Dustin drag Steve around to the side stage. Robin promises to stay with the others, and reminds Steve to wear the earplugs. 
He’s grateful Paige had slipped them to him as they get beside the stage and he realizes just how loud the crowd is when the lights go down. From where they’re standing sidestage, he can see Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Freak in a little huddle. They bounce around with their arms around each others backs, before yelling something Steve can’t quite make out. They’re handed their instruments by the crew. As they’re taking the stage, Eddie walks up in their direction and pokes his tongue out at them, before ripping into a guitar riff to make his entrance. 
Despite himself, Steve finds his head bobbing along to the drum beat, and even sings along to the songs he recognizes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Eddie through the whole production. He’s a little ball of energy, bounding around from one end of the stage to the other, bantering with the other guys in the band and drawing the fans into his chaos during talking breaks. During a drum solo, Eddie climbs onto the front of the kit and holds his guitar up in the air over his head. Steve watches, mesmerized, as Eddie holds his gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds. Eddie winks at Steve, then, before he leaps back into yet another riff. It shouldn’t have had so much of an impact, but Steve finds it kind of takes his breath away.
It’s over before long, and Paige is quick to guide Steve and the boys back to the club box. He smiles as they walk behind Dustin and Lucas, gushing over how great the show was. Back in the box, Steve and Paige agree to meet across the street at Fatpour. He charms his way into using the upstairs as a private room with a signature to the manager and flashes a smile and wave to the few people downstairs who seem to have recognized him. 
The band makes a loud entrance as the Party works their way through appetizers, and Eddie is quick to find his way to Steve. “You seemed to have enjoyed yourself, was it more fun than you expected?” He asks around a grin.
“I never said I wasn’t going to have a good time,” Steve defended through a smile, making Eddie laugh and Steve thinks that might be the best sound he’d heard all night, despite having just seen the concert. Eddie glances around then, locking eyes with a bartender to get their attention.
“What’s your poison?” Eddie asks in the most cliche way, wiggling his eyebrows a little, but Steve shakes his head.
“Strictly on water tonight. Gotta get up early tomorrow.” He says, and Eddie softens and nods. Once their drinks are in front of them, he holds his glass up to Steve in a mock toast.
“To making it the fuck out of Hawkins?”
“Cheers to that.” Steve laughs, clanking their glasses together and taking a sip.
“Any reason you stayed in the Midwest?” Eddie asks, before he can stop himself. “Sorry, you don’t have to… you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Nah, it’s… a few reasons. Couldn’t go too far without them, and most of ‘em followed me here, anyway. And then the chips fell and I ended up on the Blackhawks and there’s kind of no other team I’d rather play for.” Steve explains, leaning a little closer to Eddie with a smile. “Speaking of; are you ready for the game?”
Eddie can’t help but grin back at Steve and laugh a little. “You know, I honestly have no idea what I’m getting in to here. All I remember from watching games on TV is that it’s violent.”
“Not always.” Steve defends quickly, before showing a slight mercy. “It’s cold in there, because of the ice. You’ll want to wear layers.”
“Layers. Noted.” Eddie stores the information away for tomorrow, suddenly concerned he hadn’t even thought about an outfit for the game before the conversation.
As they talk, Robin appears with a basket of cheese curds but pulls it away as Eddie reaches to take one. 
“What’s your favorite movie?” She asks, and Steve laughs and shakes his head at her.
“Is this a quiz? I’m not good at tests, I flunked out of senior year.” Eddie whines before he stops to think about it. “Uh, well. The answer you’d probably expect from me is Almost Famous, but it’s actually a close second to Dead Poets Society.” 
She narrows her eyes at him but slides the basket in his direction. “I can’t tell if you picked either of those because you thought it was the answer I wanted, or because they’re actually your favorite, so I have to give you curds.”
“They’re actually my favorites!” Eddie laughs around a mouthful of cheese curds.
“Dead Poets is one of Robin’s favorites, too.” Steve offers, and Robin nods.
“Steve will tell you his favorite movie is Risky Business, because he thinks Tom Cruise is hot, but it’s actually Go Figure. You know, the Disney movie about the ice skater who joins her school’s hockey—” Robin is grinning until Steve clasps a hand over her mouth.
“Robin is incredibly annoying when she wants to be,” He grumbles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at their antics.
“Well, now you’ve got my attention. If Go Figure isn’t your favorite movie, what is?” Eddie asks.
Steve thinks for a moment. “I think Back to the Future feels like a safe answer.” He shrugs, and Eddie glances at Robin to gauge her reaction. She seems to approve, as she gives Steve a soft smile, pats his back, then stands from their table.
“I’ll leave you two alone, I suppose.” She says, leaning close to both of them. “Behave, got it? No funny business before the game.”
Steve flushes and flounders a little, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he just huffs and takes a sip from his water. While Eddie feels his whole face get hot in a blush, he can’t help but laugh a little.
“Is there funny business we could have gotten up to?” He dares to ask, and it’s worth it just to watch the way Steve blushes and bites at his lip. 
“Maybe. But I guess you’ve got to wait until after tomorrow’s game to find out.”
________________________________________________________
Wow! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support you’ve shown this little idea I had! I might just keep this going as a series, with updates on Mondays (Tuesdays at the latest). This is also double the word count of part 1, oops, lol.
I'm going to try to tag everyone in the replies because I hit the character limit! Tumblr wouldn't take them all, so sorry to everyone I missed, I still love you and appreciate the support!
851 notes · View notes
loveronlineee · 2 years
Text
My Girl Part 1 (Eddie Munson x Reader)
Tumblr media
Masterlist   All Parts
Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)
Warnings: swearing
Synopsis: When Mike visits El and the Byers in California, the last person he expected to meet was Eddie’s girlfriend, who apparently exists.
Y/N notes: none
I was originally gonna call this one “The Dungeon Mistress” but that sounded WAY kinkier than I wanted it to be
Request for @maltinonka ! I loved this idea and yes there will absolutely be a part 2 to this one
Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here! 
Wanna request something? Look here! 
The Byers got back to theirs after meeting Mike at the airport. El had been talking excitedly about her plan for the day non stop and everyone but Mike was ready to get out.
Jonathan took the keys to the front door out of his pocket and began walking up the pathway, the rest of the gang behind him. He spotted his neighbour sitting on her porch and waved.
“Hey Y/N!” He greeted. She looked up from playing her bass and smiled.
“Oh hey guys!” Mike squinted at her as they walked. Something about her vibe seemed strangely familiar. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Hey El who’s that?” He asked, leaning closer to his girlfriend.
“Y/N. She’s our neighbour. She’s really cool.”
“Jonathan and Argyle hang out with her a lot.” Will added. “They pretty much just get high in Jonathan’s room. But yeah like El said, she’s cool.”
“You still up to come round mine later?” The bass player asked the older kids.
“Yeah we just gotta drop Will, Jane and Mike off at the roller rink.” Jonathan replied. That’s when Y/N noticed the unfamiliar face. El linked arms with him and pulled him forward.
“Y/N this is my boyfriend Mike! He’s visiting us for a couple days.” She explained excitedly. Mike waved. Y/N smiled and got up, holding her bass in one hand as she walked over. That’s when Mike saw her shirt.
The Hellfire Club.
He stared in shock and confusion. How the hell did she have that?? It looked faded and worn out. Way older than the one he had. But it was definitely the shirt.
“Hey nice to meet you!” Y/N greeted. She noted the odd look she was getting. “You okay there bud?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.
“W-Where did you get your shirt?” Mike asked, pointing. Y/N looked down at her outfit.
“My shirt? I made it when I was a freshman in high school.”
“… no you didn’t.” Mike stated. Y/N pulled a face.
“Yeah? I did? I designed it too. It was for a club me and my boyfriend were starting-“
“Boyfriend?” Mike repeated in disbelief. No. She couldn’t be. He couldn’t have. No way.
“Yeah it was a-“
“A D&D club?” Y/N stopped.
“How did you?…” Her eyes widened. “Where are you from Mike?”
“Hawkins, Indiana.”
“NO FUCKING WAY!” She screamed and jumped. Pointing at him as she came back down. “You go to my old high school???”
“Yeah!! And I’m in the Hellfire club!!!” Mike matched her energy. Y/N looked at the Byers family.
“Why did you guys never tell me you were from Hawkins too???”
“You never asked!” Jonathan spluttered. They all seemed too shocked to properly speak.
“Wait. You dated Eddie Munson???” Mike asked, pulling a face.
“Dude I still do!”
“What?!” Mike exclaimed, making Y/N laugh.
“Wow great to know he talks about me then.” She said sarcastically. She looked back at El. “Jane I’m borrowing your boyfriend for a minute!”
“Where are we going?” Mike asked. Y/N grabbed his wrist.
“Come here kid.”
She led him inside her house and to her room. Mike had never seen Eddie’s place but he wouldn’t be surprised if it looked exactly like Y/N’s. Dark, messy, walls covered in band posters.
Y/N hung her bass back on her wall. Kissing her fingers and gliding them across the strings before going to kneel by her bed. She pulled out a shoe box from underneath and lifted the lid. Mike sat on the floor with her as she began to go through the pieces of paper inside.
“I moved to Cali for college last year. I’m lucky my uncle lives here so I don’t have to worry about housing. Eddie and I have been sending each other letters since I left Hawkins. Here.”
Y/N began handing them from the box to Mike as she continued to look through them all.
Mike took the letters and started reading. They were all from Eddie, dates going back over the past two years. He got to the one at the end of the pile. The paper was crumpled and torn in places. He could just about read it.
My girl, Y/N.
You don’t know this yet but I’m writing this before you’ve even left. You’re actually next to me right now, taking a nap. We’re in my van, AC/DC is playing. It’s your favourite song, you know the one.
I’m gonna miss this. I’m gonna miss this so much. We’re not even doing anything and I am having the best time of my life.
What am I actually gonna do when you’re gone?? I have no idea.
I promise I’ll keep Hellfire alive and continue to give the freshman nerds somewhere where they belong. I promise to use all the notes you’ve given me for our campaign. You were always the better DM. I promise to keep playing guitar so we can jam again when you come back. The band’s not gonna be the same without you.
Nothing’s gonna be the same without you.
Once I graduate, I’m running like hell outta Hawkins and straight to you.
Wait for me. I love you.
Eddie
“Wow. I had no idea Eddie could be so sappy.” Mike chuckled.
“That boy is full of surprises.” Y/N said with a loving smile. “So how’s my weirdo doing? Does he still jump up on the tables at lunch and yell things?”
“Yeah, yeah he does.” Mike chuckled again.
“Well it was much more annoying when it was both of us up there and we’d be dancing from table to table.”
“Eddie dances?” Mike asked in disbelief.
“Only with me.” Y/N shrugged. “We’d do anything to piss off those jocks. They hated us way before we did any of that shit anyway.”
“Yeah sounds about right.” Mike nodded. “This guy Jason is the worst.”
“Jason Carver?” Y/N asked.
“Yeah you know him?”
“Yeah I know the little shit. He acts like he’s king of the fuckin’ world. I bet he’s worse now that he’s a senior. He had this girlfriend, Chrissy, sweet little thing. Way too good for him.”
“They’re still dating.” Y/N made a disgusted noise as Mike handed her the letters back. She took out a Polaroid from the box before placing the letters down. She smiled at it fondly then handed it to Mike.
The photo was of her and Eddie at her graduation. Eddie was grinning as Y/N’s arms were wrapped around him, kissing his cheek. Mike turned it over to read the message on the back.
You get the fuck outta here and never look back. I’m right behind ya babe.
Mike suddenly felt a twinge of sadness.
“Y/N?” He said.
“Yeah?”
“When’s the last time you were in Hawkins?”
“The day after that picture was taken.”
“Wha- really? So you haven’t been back to visit in the last year and a half??” Y/N shrugged.
“We always planned to get out of that shitty town and never go back. Besides, plane tickets aren’t cheep. The only reason I’m even in California is because my Uncle said he would look after me.” Mike could see she was sad too, really.
“… don’t you miss him?”
“More than anything in the world.” Y/N said softly. She looked over that the calendar hanging on her wall. “Mike, when are you going back home?”
“Next Saturday.” Y/N got up and looked closer at the dates. She mumbled to herself.
“Well I don’t have anything due around that time… and I’ve got some money saved up…fuck it.” She turned back around. “You wanna see Eddie loose his collective shit?”
Mike grinned, standing back up.
“Uh yeah?” He replied, like she even had to ask that question.
“Well then, I’ve got a plane ticket to buy.”
Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries @ruhro7 @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski @gh0stm3g @lagataprrr @spencersbookbag @ygrworld @ambernicole90 @alwaysbeenfamous @angelsarecallin @voteforevilthoughts @iameddiemunsonshair @hellf1reclub @phobles-world @isshecleverorisshecrazy @olrjmarvete @b-bella9 @ultraoliviajeromethings-blog  @beatlebeesstuff @korescomaactually @bilesxbilinskixlahey @darkened-writer @nightless @gnkkstarz @cullenswife @killergoddessmm @preciousbabypeter @uselessbutinteresting @frogtits1 @lotus-es @padfootpottah99 @siriuslysmoking @enoumen-t @marrigold-2002 @nightless @the-mysterious-miss-s @olrjmarvete @evie-119 @rand0m—fangirl @felicityofbakerstreet @lotus-es @v0idl1nq @stv-1-ncent @eiviea @iheartcb @grumpyy-bearr @purple-flamingo @eddiessoulmate @violetrainbow412-blog @mcueveryday @marauders3rawh0re @ravenhood2792 @dragonalpha54 @slytherinintj13 @pastel-abyss-x @missscarlettangel @charli123456789 @henhouse-horrors @erikaar @golden-hoax @fairynamjoonie @caramelkatsukis-bitch @sun-faced @somerandomasgardian @helensophie @avobabe87 @s-u-t @superheavymetalunicorn @low-keyyyyy @carliuxima @avarose06 @ticharluv @ijustfndamilldllrsthatsmnefgt @gia-maybank @takemetoneverland420 @notbeforelong @lovepity @falling4uke @emiijemii @chocolatestudentllamabanana @milkiane @montgomery-fucking-gator @girl-in-the-chairs-void @ourheartsofsteel @simp4fictional @sakurarou @nyctophiliiiiaaa @just-that-bi-girl @ieatrocks1 @beautifulrunwaymodelwombat @geeksareunique @chiggennuggie @levylovegood @eddie-swhore @char1389 @chaerwithluv @annikin-im-panicin @mmmxmo @cestlavie03 @selenelouvel @thanatophobiawilldestroyme @unicorntrooper @jmj-1312 @nxrdamp @funn-sizedd @idblamekate @miraakswhore @7myoi @vintageleather @lemongirl5910 @hermie62 @tuskjohnny @madcosss @vinnielovesmel @michaelfuckinglangdon @bbyharlow @bakugouswh0r3 @bookswillfindyouaway @im-a-nobody-101 @jellyfishbeansontoast @steph88w @kendallpaige @strawberrykittey @abbyeey @rocking—and—rolling @dragons-dejavu @ghoulsgraveyard @spiderstyles04 @piratedelusion @your-mom-is-smoking-hot @lxffy-icon @kaiya3333 @my-obsession-spn @eddiemvnsongf @bicallison @rivuh-stone @summeritalyrain @hanihans @noa-keselman @hangel0veb0t @xbreezymeadowsx @official-maddibrown @sugabops @shoutokozume @joyfulstar81 @dontwaistyourtime @wintersdarling @gnkkstarz @pleasantlycrazyworld @oinomniaparatuso @magnet-girl @e-girl-on-the-server @antisocialthat70sshow @ma-tara @golden-thv @shamidreamer @crypticlxrsh @squishymochiuwu @kovieky @existentialjams-blog @caelin32212 @kissmyquill @lunar-flwr @whiskeypowder @vhscillian @alisslahey @prongs-girlfriend @afs1 @lilsubbysblog @melodiclovesong @same-panic-different-disco @stormyparker @madnessismylover @obi-wanakenobi @nerdboylover @waterfallpussyprincess @cailaif @cherrybean1116 @cal-is-not-on-branding @dragqueen-scully @underrailed @elrose1532 @anxiously-sad @haroldpotterson @nicodoesntexist @ruckusbowzeus @liviav @eddiemunsonlomlll @moonbeampillgoth @seiphira @sweethearteddiemunson @ahoeforharlow @stcrrjoon @tnu-ree @dootys @rengokuiloveu @findleynovadachs111 @reincarnationoftheparty @friednickelfestivalwolf @capybergara @wolflover384 @othermonsters @chibipeachu @waitalice @possible-yandere @katsukis1wife @ofherscarlettwitchways @defnotarobot @iameddiemunsonshair @ilovehotdads001 @thoughtsofdarc @letmeplaytheliontoo @aunicornmademedoit @barnaclebeeshive @shutthefupdoll @mushywutty @eddiemunsonsfavbitch @anangelwhodidntfall @smol-book-nerd @eddiesmxse @salembridger @houseofpyschoticwomen @moonisu @paola-carter @bay-did-nothing-wrong @ladypeaches4summerluv @the1withchampagneproblems @athenata @munsonxharringtonx @havecourage-darling @bea-bo @yelenas-princess @tototini @winchester-angel @riddle-munsonswhore @imheadintothemountains @mimikyu-of-death @heystaystray @stiles24 @realmoose @emilyymbbb @killmewithafanfic @frankiethedarkangel @insssanemind @hello-shirousa @kylokilupin @hxneybeehxlland @cherrypieyourface @imareallycoolperson @watchingteav @zervopoulouu @harringt8ns @spiderrrling @forsaken-letters @namjoonskitten @fayetheenthusiast @authorlovers @myglitteryrose @denibaby @sunflowerbebe07 @cherriebat @ln-nell @efvyqrs @lets-be-freaks @carebearsofie @poltergeistsblog @like-things-thatarentreal @zoinksscoobs @mylesofasgard @ihearteddie-munson @luvmybbies @restandrelaxslayti0n @eddiemunsonsfuturewife @isapellim @charming-fan-girl @toomanyfandoms87 @munsaniac @nilladean @maruushkka @white-marvel-grey @boooil @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @lynnblair @stratospherewalker @arctyres @that-girl-named-alex @slvtherinseeker @da-disappointment @dreamtiara @ceejay-95 @sunflwrnsunnieshine @ameliakf13 @fentyreligion @deafeningempathfishcowboy @escape-in-time-x @mitskislays @thegingerthatwaited @camiloboo @cinnamonrollangel @toomanybandstocare @mmflvrrs @shanhalen @eddiemunson1sstuff @rainbows-dreams @whydoesmyphoneautocorrectdick @theprincessofeddiemunson @ozziiiiieeddi @tubble-wubble @re3xx @spnfamily2005 @coffeehurricane @skelefandom @hunnybunimdun @hestiia-vesta @mtndewinyourmom​ @begginyouformendes​
9K notes · View notes
whatsk-poppinhomies · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing : Bang Chan x F!Reader x Lee Minho TW : pregnancy ; cheating ; lots of arguing ; physical fighting ; lots of angst ; mention of blood ; a famous whatsk-poppinhomies cliffhanger ; Word Count : 5.8k Request : Anonny : Y/n is pregnant by one of them but he either cheats or fucks up or they break up before they know she is pregnant. She starts dating the other who is willing to accept the kid as his own but when her ex finds out she is pregnant, there will be drama (your choice which drama. maybe he wants her back, doesnt want the baby, is mad at the other one since they are in the same band etc) AN : This is such a fun request, just the right amount of angst and I can also make it fluffy at times, but mostly angsty. It took me a little bit to figure out who I wanted to be the "good guy" in the fic, but I finally came to the conclusion of who it would be, and I think, I HOPE, you'll enjoy this. Thank you for requesting!!
There were always rumors, scandals, posts all over the internet about how cute Minho and some other female idol would look together. There were pictures posted, even edits made of the two where his eyes would linger on her just a little longer than usual, his lips pulling up at the corners when she’d flip her hair or do something almost sickeningly cute. It was a smile that you thought only you received, but whenever you brought it up he’d get irritated, telling you that you were being ridiculous and reading into things too much. 
He had never given you a reason to not trust him though, so you’d always apologize. His reasoning always seemed so valid too. He was supposed to act that way when he was MCing, it’s not like he could show the world that he was annoyed and not having a good time. You’d always let it slide, hugging him and giving him a kiss as you continued to apologize for over thinking. It would be so much easier if you could just come out about the relationship, but, again, his reasons were solid as to why you shouldn’t. It was dangerous for you, it would only be a hassle, you wouldn’t be able to live normally ever again… And for that suggestion, you apologized once more. 
Trust was important, especially when he was almost always away from home, either on tour or doing promotional meets with fans or mini concerts. It wasn’t hard to trust him either, especially when he had made it seem like he was miserable if he was anywhere but at home with you. That’s why you wanted to surprise him with a little visit while he was doing one of his little promotional tours around the country. The other guys had even helped you set it up, making sure that Minho had not a single clue that you were coming until you showed up. 
“Surpri…se…” The word that had started out as a cheerful announcement slipped into a whisper before you went completely silent. Minho stood in the center of the dressing room, his hands on the hips of the female idol that wasn’t even a threat, at least, that’s what he had told you before. Their lips had been locked, her chest pressed against his, and there was no reason… There was no bullshit excuse that he could come up with that could explain away what you had just seen. 
“Honey… I-” You didn’t give him time to talk, turning away from the room and walking as fast as you could down the hall that would lead you to the exit door. “Y/N, come back!” You heard him call after you, his footsteps getting louder and louder as he got closer until his fingers were wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back towards him and making you stop. “Listen…” He pleaded breathlessly, but you shook your head, your mouth hanging open as you let out a short gasp of disbelief. “I didn’t think you were coming… No one told me…” 
“Oh? You want to blame the guys for me finally catching you? That’s asinine.” You pulled your hand away from him, crossing your arms over your chest just to be sure he wouldn’t try to grab you again. “I’m glad I saw it… At least I won’t be made a fool of anymore. You were really good at hiding it though, I give you that. And you were damn good at pretending that you actually gave a shit about me.” 
“I do give a shit about you, that’s why…” You sighed loudly, running his hands through his hair. “That’s why I hid it from you… I didn’t want to hurt you…” He whispered, taking a step closer, but you kept the distance, backing away from him. “You weren’t supposed to find out… Not like this at least. I was gonna tell you… I’m… I’m not proud of it… I was gonna stop things with her. I love you… I just needed to say goodbye to her. That’s what that was…” 
His arms reached out to you but you swatted them away, unable to hold back the look of disgust that washed over your face. “Don’t even bother. She can have you… I don’t… I can’t even look at you right now. You make me sick.” The words shot through your lips like bullets, and while you felt so strong right now saying them, you knew that once your back was turned to him and you gave yourself the time to actually let it sink in what had happened, you’d be a wreck. 
“Don’t say that… We can talk about this. Honey, come on… Just talk to me… Don’t leave.” Minho pleaded, stepping closer to you once more, and you hated that he had the nerve to get upset, to have the gull to start crying as if you were the one that's hurting him. You scoffed, pushing him away from you and taking two steps back just to make sure the space between the two of you was wide enough that hopefully he’d finally get the hint to stay away. “Honey…” 
“What’s goin’ on out here?” Chan asked as he stepped out of his own dressing room, his eyes that had been bright and sparkling the first two seconds immediately losing their shine when he felt the tension in the hallway. “Seriously… What’s going on?” His voice lost that cheerfulness it had once carried, and now he was more serious, his eyes darting between you and Minho. 
“I don’t know, you tell me, Christopher.” You snapped, and his eyes widened in shock at the tone of your voice. “Or better yet, if you’re truly so fucking clueless, how about you ask Minho… or you could ask the girl he was swapping spit with in his dressing room. I couldn’t care less though, I’m going home.” You turned on your heel, heading to the exit door once more, and you could hear Minhos strained voice calling your name, but you didn’t look back… You didn’t want to take that last look at what you had lost. 
The promotional tour had ended, but throughout it you had received multiple texts from Minho asking to talk or meet up. There were calls from the other guys too, but you were busy, far too busy with packing up all of his things, throwing away every single reminder of the relationship that you had put so much faith into just for it to fall apart in one fell swoop. 
It was crazy how fast you had fallen in love with him, and how long it took for you to lose that feeling. Even though he had hurt you, even though you had literally seen it with your own two eyes, you loved him. You had to constantly remind yourself that if you were foolish enough to go back that you’d just end up hurt again, probably even worse than before. You weren’t a fool, you wouldn’t let him hurt you, and you knew that if he got you back, he’d just think he could do it again, and he would do it again, he’d just be sneakier this time. 
The sound of the lock on your door being undone had you turning your head, and you knew that the only person who had the keys was Minho, and it was a good thing that he had come. His things had been piled up next to the front door for a week now and it was about damn time that he finally came to collect them. 
“He was too nervous to come over…” Chan said as he sheepishly walked through the front door, closing it softly behind him and eyeing the multitude of black trash bags on the floor before looking back at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you. If I had known, I would have told you…” He whispered, and you slowly nodded your head, although you failed to believe that he would actually go against one of the guys just to protect your feelings. “Do you need anything? Have you eaten?” 
“I don’t need you to pretend to care on his behalf. The only thing I need is for his shit to be gone so that I can forget about all of you and you all can forget about me and we can all just move on with our lives and I can pretend I wasn’t the idiot that got played by him.” You sniped, pushing yourself up off the couch and grabbing one of the many bags. “I’ll help you take his stuff to your car if that’ll get rid of you all faster.” 
He blinked a few times before grabbing the bag from your hands and softly placing it down on the floor once again. “I’m not pretending to care. I’ll get his shit out of your house…” His hands ran over his face as he let out a long sigh. “I understand why you’re saying these things, but I don’t think you really believe that we’d just forget about you. We’ve been texting you nonstop… You had to have seen it.” 
“I have seen it, and I’d really like for you all to stop. It was easy for him to forget about me and we were dating… I think it’ll be way easier for you and the rest of the guys.” You retorted, picking up the bag again and pushing it into his arms. “You’re all making it harder for me to just move on, and I need to move on…” You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, you didn’t want to cry, he didn’t deserve a single tear to be shed over him, yet here you were, sniffling with tears welling up… You really were a fool. 
“It’s hard to move on because you’re not giving yourself something to take your mind off of him.” Chan murmured, dropping the bag once more, carelessly now though, and moving closer to you. His arms loosely wrapped around you, and as much as you didn’t want to be close to anyone that was close to Minho, the hug was comforting, you hadn’t had anyone there to really comfort you through the entire thing, and it was nice to just be able to cry and let it all out. 
“I don’t know how to stop thinking about him… He’s everywhere…” You mumbled against Chans chest, a blubbering mess now as you gripped onto his shirt that was becoming soaked with the tears that you shed. “I hate him… I hate all of you… You just remind me of him too…” You weakly pushed against his chest, but he held you closer, soothingly brushing his fingers through your hair as he shushed you. 
“It’s gonna be okay… I promise it will.” He cooed, his cheek resting against your forehead. “Whenever you start to think of him, just call me… I’ll talk to you, I’ll get your mind off of him. We can talk for hours if that’s what you need. If you want to go out, I’ll take you out, wherever you want to go. Even if you just need to get out of the house… I’ll take you to the studio, you can sit and watch me work on songs. I just want to help you…” 
“Why are you trying so hard…?” You whimpered, looking up at him with glassy eyes that had his heart slowly breaking, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe your tears for you as he told you the truth, but he knew that you weren’t ready for that, and he wasn’t ready for it either. He needed you to be better first. 
“Because he made the mess and he’s got too much pride to clean it up himself. I care about you though… And I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.” He said softly, hesitantly reaching up to brush the tears from your cheeks. “I’m gonna take his shit to the car, and if you want, I can stay here and we can talk or just… I’m gonna order food for you, whether you want me to stay and eat with you or not… But… I want to make sure you’ve eaten. Okay?”
You nodded weakly, taking a step back as you swallowed thickly before clearing your throat. “You can eat… stay… eat with me…” You stammered, rubbing your hands against your thighs, the embarrassment of what just happened finally setting in. “I’m sorry for that… Don’t… Don’t tell him I cried… Please…” 
Chan chuckled, ruffling your hair before placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the couch and waiting for you to sit before dropping down onto the cushions himself. “I’m sure he already knows you’ve cried, but I wouldn’t tell him anyway. I haven’t really talked to him about anything other than work since that happened.” He explained, pulling his phone out to order food. “So what are you feeling? What do you wanna eat?” 
///
Becoming close to Chan wasn’t in your itinerary, it wasn’t planned at all, but you found yourself craving his presence, wanting to hear his voice all the time, comforted by the warmth that emanated off of him when he sat beside you. He had become such an important part of your healing process, that after a couple weeks, it didn’t even feel like you needed to be healed anymore, you just wanted him around. 
Your mind had been so busy for so long, and it was a good thing, you needed to keep your mind off of everything for a bit, but you didn’t realize how busy you had been until you got the notification on your phone from your period tracking app. Make sure to log your periods for better accuracy. You stared at the notification with furrowing eyebrows, your mind becoming a calculator as you tried to remember when the last time was that you had gotten your period. 
How long had it been? You quickly opened the app, going back to the last logged date and then to your calendar to see just how long it had been. 8 weeks… how could you not notice for almost two months that you hadn’t gotten your period at all? You couldn’t have possibly been that frazzled… right? 
“Hey Channie… Can you get something from the store for me when you have the time?” You texted him, not knowing who else to go to, and the last thing you wanted to do was get the tests yourself. You needed to take what little time you had to process what you would do if those tests gave you the most life altering reading. 
“Yeah sure! Is everything okay? You need some girly things, huh? I can get you your favorite snacks too and we can hang out.” He texted back, and you wished, you really wished that girly things were what you needed, and you were nervous to even tell him what you actually needed. What would he do? Would he be upset? Would he be angry? It’s not like you planned for something like this if it were the case… It wasn’t 100% your fault. But you knew 100% who’s it would be. It’s like you couldn’t forget him… you’d never be able to forget him. 
“Uhm… No. Well… I’d really like it if we could still hang out… But I need uhm… pregnancy tests…” You sent the text as fast as you could, waiting long enough for it to say delivered before turning off the screen and throwing your phone to the end of the bed. This was just what your luck would bring you, right? You would never be able to escape Minho, not fully. You would never move on, and the worst part was that you were really starting to feel like you could, like you would… The feelings that were beginning to bloom for Chan… They would never be returned… 
Your phone vibrated next to your feet, and you were scared, so scared of his response, but then it started vibrating more, longer, and you knew it was a phone call. What if he had told Minho? Your hands shook as you grabbed your phone, your eyes closed until the screen was right in front of your face, slowly opening your eyes to see Chans name on your screen. 
Hesitantly you answered, bringing the phone to your ear with a soft sniffle. “Why didn’t you answer? Are you okay?” He asked, worry lacing his voice and you could hear wind whipping around him through the speaker. “You’re crying… Did something happen? Tell me…” He urged, and you could barely get the words out of your mouth to answer him. 
“I thought… That you’d be mad… Or that you’d tell Minho… I don’t want him to come back, I don’t want to give him a reason to come back in my life…” You just barely whispered into the speaker, your knees pulled up against your chest, holding onto them tightly. “I’m so scared, Chris… I don’t want to do this alone, I can’t…” 
“I’ll be over soon… Don’t worry. Even if it’s positive, you won’t have to do it alone. I’m still gonna be here, I’d never leave you… I hope you know that, and remember that. You’re stuck with me.” He chuckled softly, and your laughter that followed was a little too sad, but at least you were laughing, and at least you knew that you had him. 
///
“SKZ Leader Christopher Bang, also known as Bang Chan, seen heading into OBGYN office with mystery pregnant girlfriend.”
The report had caught Minhos eye as soon as he saw it, and for many reasons. Chan had never mentioned having a girlfriend, and he had definitely never mentioned becoming a dad any time soon. Judging by the pictures that had been posted, the supposed girlfriend looked to be pretty far along, at least 6 or 7 months into the pregnancy. Chan would have slipped up by now, and Minho couldn’t think of a reason why he’d want to hide such big news from the guys. He’d talk to him about it, maybe Chan was scared that the guys would be upset… Maybe that was it… Minho would congratulate him first, let him know that he wasn’t mad, he was actually quite proud. He knew that Chan would make a good father, especially considering he was basically a dad to the other 6 guys. 
“Hyung!” Minho called out when Chan came into the practice room, running over to the leader and patting him on the back. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend… You’re hiding a lot of things. You’re gonna be a dad too!” Minho expected the initial fear to wear off after a couple seconds, but Chans eyes stayed wide as he stared at Minho a little longer than he liked. “You… Didn’t see the headlines?” Minho asked, and Chan quickly shook his head, pulling out his phone and groaning loudly when he saw that it wasn’t just headline news, it was on the front page of NAVER. 
“Fuck… I gotta call Y/N…” Chan mumbled, and Minho felt like he had been punched hearing your name come out of Chans mouth. It had to be a coincidence, there was no way that Chan could do something like that to him… right? Now he was nosy, listening in on the call that Chan was making, trying to make it seem like he was paying attention to his own phone so he wouldn’t leave the room. “I want you to stay in the house no matter what until I get there, okay? Keep the doors locked just in case they followed us after the appointment, and don’t answer the door for anyone. No… No, I don’t think he knows. He’s the one who saw it… He came to me… No, he doesn’t recognize it’s you. I know… I know, it’s gonna be okay, darling. I love you… I’ll be home soon. Promise… Yes. I love you more… Okay… Just relax, I got you that ice cream you’ve been craving. Mmhm… Yup… Alright, I love you so much. Hugs and kisses… Mwah.” 
Listening to the conversation had Minho looking back at the report, really looking at the pictures now. The nose, the hair, the eyes… It was all you… It was you. The pain that he had felt after the initial gut punch now turned to anger as he pushed himself away from the wall and went straight over the Chan. “Who were you on the phone with? Huh? Tell me right now. Tell the truth!” Minho shouted, already pushing Chan back, shoving him until he was cornered against the mirrored walls that reflected the scene. 
“Stop… It was my girlfriend, you’re being ridiculous.” Chan tried to keep calm, attempting to slide away from Minho, but he was pushed against the mirror once more, the image momentarily warped as the glass vibrated. “Stop it!” Chan said more firmly now, trying to keep Minho back, but his anger was fueling him, driving him to continue pushing against Chan until the mirror started to crack, and even then, he wouldn’t stop. 
“Your girlfriend is my ex! You lousy, no-good, piece of shit!” Minho screamed, catching a glimpse of the crack that was making its way up the mirror, bound to shatter at any moment now. “When did you start dating? You thought you could just move in on my girlfriend because she was upset?! You’re a fucking asshole, you know that!” 
“Well why the hell do you care anyway?!” Chan shouted back, finally getting angry enough to push Minho away from him, but he didn’t want to hurt him, he just wanted him to stop. He needed him to stop. It would be no good if either of them got hurt, and the reports would be no better if it came out that they were fighting like this. “You cheated on her! She’s happy now! It’s not like I started dating her as soon as you broke up anyway… It just happened… I’m taking care of her, you should be happy that someone actually loves her.” 
Minhos fists balled up at his sides, but then the math started adding up in his head, but it didn’t actually add up… You had caught him cheating only 5 months ago, and if his visual assumption of how far along you were was correct, that would mean… “Who’s the father? Is it you? How far along is she?” The questions came out in rapid succession, and Chans eyes fell to the floor, it was answer enough, but he wanted to hear it. “Answer me!” Minho shouted once more, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles were turning a ghostly shade of white. 
“I’m the father! Whether the DNA says so or not, and that’s what matters!” Chan sniped back, and Minho swore he saw red, his fist flying before he even had the chance to think about what he was doing. His knuckles connected with Chans face full force, causing the leader to stumble back, his bottom lip busted and blood trickling down to his chin. “You can fight me… You can beat the shit out of me… But I’m not leaving her. The kid isn’t yours… She’ll have my last name. She’ll call me dad. She wouldn’t want a cheater as a father anyway.” 
“Fuck you…” Minho muttered before his arm pulled back to punch him once more, but the practice door swung open, and in a second all of the guys were around him, pulling him away from Chan. There was so much going on, but Minhos eyes never left Chan. He wasn’t his leader, he wasn’t his band member… He sure as hell wasn’t his brother… He had stolen his family away. “Must be nice to just have the family already made for you, isn’t it?!” Minho shouted as he was being dragged out of the practice room by Changbin and Jisung as the other guys stayed behind to make sure Chan was okay. 
///
“What do you mean he found out?!” You shrieked from the couch, your heart racing as your eyes darted to the door. Would Minho come to the house? Was he on his way now? “Are you okay? Are you coming home?” You asked, completely on edge, and your nerves being so high was setting off your daughter who refused to sit still now. 
“Just relax, darling. I’m fine, and he’s not going to come over. The guys have him out in the hall right now trying to calm him down, they know what’s going on… They’re not going to let him leave.” Chan tried to reassure you, but it was all for nothing when you heard Changbins voice in the background. “He ran off… I think he’s going over to Y/Ns… You should probably go…” You heard Chan sigh loudly before his voice was heard again. “Keep the door locked… It’s locked right? Don’t answer it, for the love of god, don’t answer. Just stay quiet… I’ll be home as soon as I can, I swear. Stay on the line with me though.” 
“God dammit!” You shouted, carefully pushing yourself up off the couch and heading into the bedroom. “I knew we should have gone to an office out of the city… I told you this would happen.” It’s not that you were trying to argue with Chan, it was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had told him from the get-go that it wasn’t a good idea to go to any of the doctors close to his work. 
“Sue me for wanting you to have the best doctors in Korea.” Chan snapped back, and you heard his car door slam shut and then the rumbling of the engine as he turned the key. “Don’t blame me for this shit. It’s not my fault that you ended up pregnant by him, I didn’t have to do anything for you, but I love you enough to be here and you’re gonna get bitchy with me because he finally found out. It was bound to happen at some point.” 
You scoffed loudly, running a shaky hand through your hair. “It wasn’t just for me, asshole! It was to protect you from your crazy ass fans. But I guess they were bound to find out at some point too?” You retorted, your eyes prickling with tears of anger as you sat on the edge of your bed. “I didn’t ask you to be here, if I remember correctly, I wanted you all out of my fucking life. You insisted on staying! So don’t you dare try to blame me either!” You took a shaky breath, pulling the phone away from your face so he wouldn’t hear you crying. “If that’s the way you feel though… Don’t come home. I’ll just talk things out with Minho, maybe we can work out an agreement for child support or something and you all can be gone like I wanted.” 
“Stop. I never said that, don’t twist my words.” He mumbled, and the engine revved as his car sped up. “I don’t want you talking to Minho at all, I’ll handle him when I get back home. I’m coming home. I’m not… I’m not mad at you… I love you, and I love the baby… I got punched in the fucking face and now I have to worry about Minho weasling back into your life and I’m just stressed… That’s all.” He sighed softly, his fingers drumming lightly against the wheel as his turn signal ticked. “Please don’t cry, darling… Not over my words, I didn’t mean them. I really didn’t…” 
“I’m stressed too…” You whispered back, your head leaning against the headboard as you watched through the little slits in the blinds of your bedroom, waiting to see Chans car pull up. “I just wanted things to be easy… For us to be happy. I guess I’m stupid for wanting that though… Especially knowing that-” There was a loud banging at the front door causing your heart to skip a beat before you jumped up out of the bed and peeked through the blinds. “He’s here… What do I do? Channie, what do I do?” 
“I’m almost home, just stay in the bedroom. He doesn’t have the key, he can’t get in.” Chan rushed the words out, and while they were supposed to calm you, you could hear the panic in his own voice. “Fucking traffic! Come on!” 
“Y/N I know you’re home!” Minhos voice shouted from outside the house as his fists came down against the door once more. “We need to talk! I know she’s mine! Let's just talk about this!” It seemed like the more he spoke, the louder he got, and you were shrinking into the bed deeper and deeper with every single word. He wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that, at least not the way he had hurt Chan, but you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger either. 
“Get away from my house.” You heard Chan both through the phone and outside the window, and you quickly hung up to run to the front door, but your movements became slow once your hand was on the lock. If you unlatched it too quick, Minho would come in, you needed to wait for Chan. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. You don’t need to see her, you don’t need to be here, so just go back to the dorms or go practice.” 
“Easy for you to say. It’s not actually your kid. You get to play the hero for Y/N and my daughter… Must be real fucking nice.” The argument continued outside of the door, and Chans voice was so close, he could come in… But Minhos voice was just as close… You didn’t want to take any chances. “You wouldn’t even know her if it weren’t for me! You were just waiting for your chance to steal her away from me!” 
“What are you talking about?!” Chan screeched, and you felt your heart rate spike, your hand shaking as you started to unlock the door. You didn’t want anything to happen to Chan, he had already been hit once, you didn’t know how far Minho would go. “You cheated on her! She left you! Just go away!” 
You quickly pulled the door open and both their heads whipped in your direction. Chan was the first to come in, pushing past Minho and wrapping his arms around you to pull you away from the door. “You really need to go, Minho…” You whispered shakily, your hands moving to Chans and holding onto them tightly. 
“No. I’m not going anywhere.” Minho said flatly, walking into your house and slamming the door behind him. “You start dating my friend while you’re pregnant with my daughter and you both were going to try to hide it from me!? Now you expect me to just walk away like this isn’t happening?!” His eyes lowered to your stomach, his breath hitching in his throat as he took one small step closer to you. “You don’t think I’ll just walk away from this… do you? I’m not that kind of person.” 
You looked up at Chan who rolled his eyes at Minhos words, and then your head dropped. “I wish you would… I wish you had never found out. It took so long for me to get over you, and things were going just fine.” You mumbled, sniffling softly. “It’s not fair… You cheated on me, and then you want to try to come back… Why? I don’t want to confuse her…” 
“We can get back together.” Minho stated as if it were the obvious choice, his hands reaching out to grab yours, but Chan was adamant on that not happening, his own fingers lacing with yours and moving your hands to your side. “I don’t want her to be confused either, but she deserves to have her real father in her life.” He eyed Chan smugly as he said it, and you felt him tense up behind you, his breaths heavy against your neck. “You know that I love you, more than anything else in the world. We could be a family, the perfect family…” 
“Will you shut up?” Chan said quite sternly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, something that made Minhos hand twitch as it clenched to a fist at his side. “You don’t know how hard it was for her to get over you, and I will not just sit by and let you fuck it all up!” He carefully moved you behind him as he stood face to face with Minho, his chest puffed out, flexing his muscles and chesting Minho back towards the door. “She doesn’t want you, she doesn’t want you back, and she doesn’t want to play family with you!” 
“Oh I’m the one that would be playing family? You’re trying to play father to another man’s kid! You took advantage of my one mistake… Did you tell her though? Did you tell her that after that I’d sit up at night crying because I fucked up so bad? Did you tell her that I haven’t been with anyone else since that day?! Or did you only tell her the shit that benefited you?” Minho sniped back, his own chest puffing out, and truthfully, you were scared for both of them. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt. 
“I told her what would benefit her. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand that though considering you didn’t even think enough about her to not cheat when she was yours. So don’t you dare try to come into our house acting like you give a shit now because you found out she’s pregnant. The kid is sadly only yours biologically, but that doesn’t mean shit where it counts.” Chan retorted, taking a step back, being the bigger person to try to keep a physical fight from happening. “Now if you were smart, you’d leave… I suggest that you be smart and that you get out… now.” 
Minho huffed loudly, his eyes like daggers as he looked between you and Chan, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he leaned against the door. “You know I’ll be back… She’s my daughter… And if you won’t let me be a solid part of her life, I’ll just go to court. I’m going to see me kid, whether you want me to or not.” His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as a coy smile spread across his lips, his eyes solely on you now. “Can’t wait to meet her.” 
810 notes · View notes
its-time-to-write · 4 months
Note
hi sweetheart! i was wondering if you could do a jamie imagine where the reader is a physical therapist and he’s always finding the most ridiculous excuses to go see her, like getting a paper cut and things like that. i would also love if it could be before they got together :)
it’s okay if you don’t want to do it or already did it and i didn’t see it. thank you anyway, you’re one of my favorite writers here on tumblr 🩵
you called me sweetheart, so now I would die for you. pet names are the way to my heart, in case u didn’t know. hope u enjoy🍊
(important disclaimer, I don’t know how physical therapy works so if I’m wrong about things, remember this isn’t a medical journal, I am just a girl)
Tumblr media
before you go
Apparently, it’s impossible to purposely give yourself a paper cut, but Jamie Tartt has been doing his damnedest all day to get some kind of ailment, so if that means being careless with some photographs in his locker then so be it. 
He really wishes his leg would cramp or something, but Will’s been keeping him far too hydrated for that. 
So Jamie has to settle for slipping a picture of his mum at just the right angle to draw blood. 
“Shit,” he whispers softly. He puts his finger to his mouth to catch the first beads of blood. 
“Paper cut?” Sam asks sympathetically. Jamie nods, finger in between his teeth. 
“Ay, sí, you should go see the physio for that one, amigo. Ask for the Rojas special,” Dani says with his ever-present grin. 
“It’s just a paper cut, mate,” Jamie says in order to keep up appearances. 
Sam knocks his arm. “You have to go. Dani only just let me request the Rojas special last week, and Richard still won’t talk to me about it.”
“Ça c’est merde,” Richard calls from across the locker room. “Put on a bandage and go home.”
Jamie won’t. He sticks his tongue out at Richard and turns to go to the treatment room because he needs treatment right away. Never mind that it’s a cut and not a muscle injury. He can hide under the excuse that Dani sent him. 
Jamie taps on the door and pushes it open to find you sitting on the table, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on your knees. You jump down at the sight of Jamie. 
“Hi! I was wondering if anybody’d be over today,” you grin. “Where does it hurt?”
Jamie holds up his finger. “Dani sent me.”
“Ah, right,” you nod, grin never leaving your face. Jamie wonders if your sunny disposition is why you and Dani are such good friends. Suddenly, he’s gripped by uncertainty. Maybe you and Dani are morethan good friends. After all, Dani is strangely tight-lipped about his affairs and besides, it’s not good for the physio to be openly screwing a player. 
Maybe he should go. 
But you’ve already come back to him after rummaging in a cupboard, small box in hand. 
“Technically, this isn’t part of my job,” you say as you select a band-aid, “but I’ve been doing this since I started going to my nephew’s footie matches. Kid’s almost ten now, but he still asks for me every time he gets a scrape. First time I was here it was like, force of habit, but Dani said it reminded him of his sister, so…” you trail off. “I dunno, it’s funny that even big strong footballers still want silly bandages, yeah?”
Jamie watches as you open a green bandage with yellow flowers and wrap it carefully around his finger. You press a kiss to it and smile up at him. “There. All better.”
Jamie is… well, he’s flustered. He’s heard about the so-called Rojas special and how it’s available through recommendation only, but he wasn’t prepared for the sweet way you cradled his hand or the fact that your lips touched him. In fact, he wasn’t prepared for anything beyond a bandage and the fact that you slipped sweets to Sam and Dani to numb the sting of injury. 
“Thanks,” he chokes out, aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. You give it one last squeeze before dropping it. 
“See you around,” you say. 
Jamie mumbles something unintelligible and finds his way out the door.
“Fuck you,” he says to Sam as soon as he catches him in the car park. 
Sam raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get a chocolate. Did you not hold still?”
“I- you- it- fuck you,” Jamie says again. “You fucking knew.”
“Knew what?” Dani asks. He’s a horrible liar. 
“You knew I thought she was fit. You didn’t tell me she’s, like, emotionally fit as well. So fuck you both for that.”
Sam mouths emotionally fit as he and Dani dissolve into laughter. 
“Which band aid did you get?” Dani asks when he finally regains control of himself. “She ran out of Peppa Pig last week, but she promised to get some more soon.” 
Jamie holds up his finger, wishing the cut were on the middle one. 
Sam and Dani lean into inspect it and nod once. 
“Well?” Jamie demands. They just look at him with stupid grins. 
“Good night, Jamie Tartt,” Dani says, opening Sam’s passenger seat door. 
“Good night, Jamie,” Sam echoes. 
The fuckers just leave him standing in the lot, heart racing like a fucking idiot. 
Jamie’s ankle is barely twisted. Like, barely. But he grew up watching football so he knows how make an injury seem worse than it is. He’s mastered the art of not going overboard.  
“You should see the physio,” Beard tells him. Jamie pretends to protest a little bit, ignoring the way Ted shoots Dani and Sam quizzical looks. They’re making some sort of face and Jamie’s not going to figure out what they mean because he doesn’t care. 
(Or maybe he already knows what they mean. But he doesn’t give a shit.)
So he hobbles his way to the treatment room where you’re typing something on the computer. Reports, probably. 
You look up with a smile when you see him, the quickly school it into a frown. “Where does it hurt?” you ask. 
“My ankle,” Jamie grimaces. 
You pat the table and he obliges, sitting down on the crinkly paper. 
You squat to undo his boot and Jamie realizes that maybe this isn’t the best way to get you to fall for him but it’s too late now because you’re gingerly sliding it off his foot. 
“D’you mind if I get the sock as well?” you ask, and it’s all Jamie can do to mutely shake his head. You lightly run a cool hand over his ankle. 
“Feels a bit swollen,” you say. “What happened?”
Jamie has to gather his thoughts firmly away from the way he could feel the callouses on your palm. “Tackle,” he says. 
“Hm,” you reply. “Does this hurt?”
Jamie gasps as you press your thumb at just the wrong spot. 
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say. “Lie down. I’m going to massage it for a minute then put it on ice. You’ll be good to go in an hour.”
Jamie obeys, trying to ignore the way his breath hitches when your hand squeezes his calf for a fraction of a second. 
You’re able to find all the right spots, gently pushing the muscle back where it needs to go. You pat his foot gently and go to get an ice pack. “Keep this on for fifteen minutes, off for five, then on for another fifteen. If it still hurts I’ll get you another pack, or maybe a heating pad. Depends on what type of pain you have, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“You sending me back?” Jamie asks in a feeble attempt to be his usual confident self. 
You hesitate. “I mean… the other option is you stay here. I won’t lie to you, it’s pretty quiet back here but it doesn’t smell. Will got me on these scent diffuser packs, so this is one of the least-gross rooms on the lower level. I usually just type reports, but I’ve finished for now so I was going to read but we can chat if you like. You don’t have to, but I can monitor your ankle for the next hour if you’re here. It’s up to you.”
Stay and flirt with the pretty physio or sit on the bench instead of practicing?
Jamie positions himself better on the table. “What’s your book about?”
Jamie wishes that he were just making an excuse to come see you, but if that were the case he’d have made sure to be showered. Instead, he’s fresh off the pitch after a long day of practice and he needs his joints like, replaced or some shit. 
He stumbles into the treatment room and practically flops facedown on the table. You’re up in an instant, combing his hair away from his face with your fingers. 
“Where does it hurt?” you ask, voice filled with concern. 
“Everywhere,” Jamie groans. 
“Okay, so full-massage with the extra-large ice pack at the end, then,” you say. 
Jamie just grunts in response and tries not to think about the fact that this is the most unromantic way he’s ever tried to date a girl. He tells himself that you’re a physio, that you’ve seen grosser, and that you’re not even interested in him anyway. It still doesn’t stop him from asking about your day and cracking stupid jokes the entire time you’re popping his muscles. His voice squeaks every time you forcibly release tension, but you just laugh and tell him, “You should hear Isaac.” So yeah, the worst training of his life has now turned out to be a goddamned blessing in disguise because you’re joking back and forth for a solid twenty minutes. 
“Come back any time,” you tell him with a wink as he heads out the door. “You don’t have to be injured to say hey.”
Jamie smiles at that, and goes to tell Sam and Dani that they’re shitheads but he loves them very much. 
It’s been a long week and an especially long match, but thank fuck it’s over. There’s a bit of an ache in his legs but he doesn’t give a flying shit. They’ve won, for once, so as a reward to himself he’s going to invite you out with the lads. Proper, like, probably with the words, “Hey I think you’re fit,” except he’s thinking he should probably swap “fit,” for beautiful, or stunning, or the most wonderful, funny, amazing woman he’s ever met and no, it’s not just because of the magical healing powers you seem to possess. 
Jamie showers, changes, then heads purposefully down the hall. He knows you’re still here, you never leave after matches until everyone who might possibly need physio is gone. 
He bangs open the door, ready to regale you with the shit Ted’s up to post-match when he catches sight of your face. Or rather, the fact that it’s in your hands as your shoulders shake. 
He rushes over to the desk and turns your chair so you’re facing him. 
His hands are on your knees as he urgently whispers, “Where does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t,” you gasp, wiping your eyes. “I’m fine, I don’t know what came over me, I’m good, I promise. What’s up?”
You move to get up but Jamie presses lightly where his hands were resting. “You don’t look fine, love,” he says, then internally winces. Not a good thing to say to a girl, no matter how true it is. 
“I’m good, swear down,” you choke. You move to wipe away another tear but Jamie beats you to it, swiping it with his thumb. You shudder involuntarily, trying not to notice the rough feel of his skin on yours. 
“I’m not hurt,” he says tentatively. “Came to see if you wanted to go out with me ‘n the lads.”
“Oh!” you exclaim, still trying your absolute best to pull yourself together and failing miserably. “Right. I um, I’m going to be here a while so you should just go, yeah? Tell Dani I’m proud of him.”
Jamie shakes his head. “Ain’t leaving you here all by yourself.” He realizes your hands have found their way into his, and he has no idea who put them there. He lifts one to his lips and brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “Just tell me where it hurts, yeah?”
Another shiver wracks your body. “You can’t- I can’t- you have to go, okay Jamie? I need you to go.”
Jamie will, he’ll do anything you ask, but first he has to know- 
“Why?” he asks, so softly. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”
“Don’t-” you half-choke. “Not- I’m gross right now.”
Jamie can’t stifle his laugh in time, so he does his best to save it. “Love, you’ve seen me at my fuckin’ worst. We’ll call it even.”
You’re breathing a little easier now, but just barely. You don’t seem too eager to get rid of him so Jamie pushes his luck and stays kneeling on the floor. 
“Tell me,” he urges again, but you just shake your head. 
“You really should go,” you say, breath catching in your throat. “You don’t want to keep Maia waiting. Heard actresses are notoriously particular about being on time.”
That’s confusing. Maia- do you mean Maia Stanwood? You must, that’s the only Maia he knows. But how did you know her, Jamie had run into her at dinner the other day and there’d been a brief article in the papers, but nothing that connects to what’s happening here. 
Unless-
No. 
Except- it’s the only thing that makes sense. 
But you don’t like him like that. At least, he’s pretty sure. And anyway, isn’t it prickish to assume everyone’s in love with him?
But you’re not everyone, you’re the team physio with nice hands and a sweet smile and an affinity to fix people, to mend what’s broken in the best way you know how. 
“I love you,” he says instead of everything else he had planned.
You’re silent, and he’s not sure you’ve heard him so he says it again. 
“Yeah, alright, I love you too,” you sniff with a half-smile, except it’s the way you’d say to a brother, the way you’d say it to Dani or Sam. 
“No,” Jamie says more insistently, “I love you. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you, wanted to take you out proper. Impress you with my dancing and chat you up at the bar. Make the lads jealous that I’ve got a beautiful girl on my arm, then sneak out early to kiss you like I’ve been fucking thinking about since that fucking paper cut. Had a right crush on you like an idiot since you got hired.”
You’re staring at him open-mouthed, unable to believe what he’s saying, and Jamie doesn’t know much all the time but he knows that you’re gripping his hands like it’s a lifeline. He knows your eyes are wide open and that he was on the mark about you thinking he was with someone else. So he does what anyone in his position would do. 
He captures your lips in his, letting go of your hands only so he can slip one hand around your waist and another in your hair. 
God, you feel like you’re melting. 
Jamie Tartt is kissing you like there’s no tomorrow and the floor is tipping out from under you, but apart from that vague feeling all you’re aware of is his hands on you and the fact that he tastes like spearmint. 
His lips are soft against yours, mouth warm and inviting. 
It’s like taking a breath of air for the first time in months. 
“I love you,” you say as soon as you break apart. You’re breathing heavily as if you’re the one who just played a 90-minute match. Jamie’s lips are swollen and your hair is mussed, but you both share the same look.
“All better?” he asks, and you nod. 
“Good. You want to get dinner? I know a few places we can go, don’t have to worry about paps.”
“The team-” you begin, but Jamie waves that away. 
“They’ll understand,” he says. “Been flirting with you for ages, getting injured all the time. Think Ted’s starting to get fucking worried.”
You run your thumb down his jawline. “I always wondered about that,” you murmur. “Thought it was in my head how much you were down here. Didn’t want to be unprofessional.”
Jamie reaches up to hold your wrist and you just sit there, on the floor of the treatment room, looking at each other in the dim light. You’ll get up, eventually, but for now you’re going to savor this moment you have together. 
494 notes · View notes
taexual · 4 months
Text
sleepwalking ● 12 | jjk
Tumblr media
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers
warnings: explicit language, some angst, DESCRIPTIVE SMUT with maybe 1 pet name and 2 jokes, a bunch of reminiscing and relentless flirting (bc jungkook is dowwnnnn badddd), praise kink if you squint?, minors please don't interact
words: 7.6k
read from the beginning ○ masterlist
Tumblr media
chapter 12 ► fall into your eyes like a grave, bury me to the sound of your name
Tumblr media
You and Jungkook were silent for a solid fifteen minutes after you let him into your hotel room. You were both sitting on the bed, but with so much distance between you that it felt like you were on two different floors.
After your phone on the bedside table lit up for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jungkook finally spoke up.
“Your phone keeps buzzing,” he pointed out helpfully.
“Yeah.” You sighed. Being silent with Jungkook oddly felt less draining than dealing with whatever was happening on your phone. “It’s Kai.”
Jungkook nodded, remembering your brother’s misadventures the last time you two talked. He was almost happy to use that as an excuse to dance around the elephant in the room a little longer.
“How is he?” he asked. “With his broken…”
“Leg, yeah,” you finished, leaning your head against the headboard. “He’s home. Mum’s grounded him. She’s turned off the router and taken his Xbox, so he’s texting me because he’s got nothing else to do.”
Remembering how angry you were when your brother got himself into trouble and upset your mum, Jungkook asked with a small smirk on his lips, “and you had nothing to do with the Xbox?”
You shook your head. “I don’t believe it’s an appropriate punishment to withhold things from your children. I think it makes them withdraw from their parents, especially when they’re seventeen like Kai. And it makes them annoy their siblings instead,” you paused. Then shrugged. “But I’m not a parent, so easy for me to say.”
Dignified, Jungkook cleared his throat.
“You’ve contributed greatly to raising your brother,” he said in a voice full of contempt for your family’s general tendency to use the nine-year age difference between you and your brother as an excuse to have you babysit for free.
Although your heartbeat increased at the sound of his confidence—and his almost reflexive habit of defending you from yourself—your outward appearance remained composed. It was easy to appear collected when you weren’t looking at him and he felt so far away.
“And look at him now,” you said, an ironic smile on your face. “A mess.”
Jungkook snickered. “He’s really not that bad.”
Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair and felt your fingers get caught in the last strand, only adding to your frustration with your brother.
“Sure. He’s a good kid,” you said, looking up at Jungkook. “But he tries too hard.”
Jungkook saw the parallel, he felt it. You might as well have said that about him.
At last, it seemed like the time had come to address the real reason he’d come to your room. He knew that this casual chit-chat was only temporary anyway. But if he wasn’t careful, it would be the last time the two of you spoke to each other with such ease, such familiarity.
He cleared his throat and said, “this might be the hardest conversation we have.”
He didn’t need to elaborate, you understood. And still, you thought about his words for a moment and decided to disagree.
“Or the easiest,” you said. “I mean, everything important that we could have said, we’ve pretty much said already.”
He blinked, surprised at first. Then dizzy.
There were several things he wanted to say to you, but he expected to listen to you first. He knew you wouldn’t initiate a conversation about your feelings, but he’d hoped this was different, especially considering all that you’d said to each other on the street.
It wasn’t different. You sat across from him on the bed and you looked a little uncomfortable, but not particularly confounded.
He’d expected to find you grappling with questions, armoured with rightful accusations, but you appeared settled.
Maybe it’s because it’s been four years, he realised suddenly. He hadn’t been there to watch you build your defences. He hadn’t seen your walls grow.
He worried, suddenly, that nothing he’d say would mean anything to you. He worried that the only reason you let him into your room was to deliver the finishing blow—to tell him that you were done one more time.
He switched the arm he was leaning against the bed with; his right arm was slowly going numb. Actually, so was his left, and, if he was completely honest, his whole body felt a bit like it was floating away from him, but he tried to focus on the moment.
“Uh, w-we haven’t said everything,” he said.
You looked at him. “What else is there?”
“Two things.”
Inhaling sharply, you turned away. You did not really want to continue the discussion you’d had by the canal. In fact, you didn’t think there was anything to continue at all.
You’d walked away as soon as you realised that you’d come face-to-face with your break-up. And this was it. You’ve found the reason why this could never work. Why you and him together could never work. And it was truly simple: it’s because it hadn’t worked before. You already knew it, but you enjoyed the leisure of pretending that you didn’t.
All that you two had to do now, in your opinion, was reach a formal agreement that this would be it. You’ve explored each other’s boundaries enough during this tour. The time has come to stop. To go back to your normal lives, your regular jobs and duties.
However, now that he was here, there was hesitation behind your closed eyes. You had learned that the two of you had different ideas about why you broke up. And you’d spent four years boiling in them, convincing yourselves you’ve moved on from them, then facing them head-on when you really looked at each other again.
Perhaps there were a few more things you had to talk about, after all, before you could truly put this behind you.
Finally, you nodded your head once and told him, “okay. What’s the first thing?”
“The first thing,” he started, “is that I'm sorry.”
It was well known that “sorry” wasn’t always a heavy word. People threw it around like a pebble and watched it bounce off the surface of the water, rarely ever intending for it to sink, to reach the depths not visible to the naked eye. Jungkook had been one of those people many times in his life.
But the word he used here felt different.
It carried a weight that forced him to lower his head as he said it. As if all his thoughts had been poured into this sentence – this fateful “I’m sorry” – and the heaviness of it was difficult to bear. As if he’d assigned different meanings to each “sorry” in his head, and all these little pieces suddenly added up to one big word that took up the whole room.
“For not realising what I was doing back then,” he said, dissecting the apology, “and what it meant for our relationship.”
He figured there wasn’t much that you could say that would make it easier for him to breathe – the conversation by the canal, the bet, the apology, all of it was too significant to leave much room for oxygen in his lungs.
But you said, “I forgive you.”
And it felt a lot like you were performing emergency resuscitation and successfully maintaining his brain function.
He wasn’t certain if you’d said that because it was the right thing to say, or because you’d meant it. If it was the former, Jungkook would have rather suffocated.
“You do?” he asked, unsure if he was prepared for your explanation.
“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t know that you weren’t—that you didn’t realise why—why we broke up the way we did. And it sucks that you didn’t, but…”
You faltered here and Jungkook was keenly aware how you’d said it sucks, but you’d really meant it hurt me. It hurt that he’d been dismissive, negligent, and heedless – and had the audacity not to realise it.
He closed his eyes while you finished, “it sucks more to know that, all this time, you thought I’d just walked away for no good reason.”
An apology was on the tip of your tongue, he could sense it. Although you had many reasons to be angry with him for being so impossibly stupid, you also felt guilty because all this time, he had thought you woke up one morning and suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Like it was your fault that he didn’t realise he’d been taking you for granted every day for months before you broke up.
You should have been angry with him. Instead, you thought you were responsible for not explaining your reasoning properly before you left.
He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest. He wanted you so much, but more and more he realised that he didn’t deserve you.
“I didn’t try to stop you,” he said before you could say anything else, because this was another element of his initial apology. One more thing he had to be sorry for.
You shrugged with one shoulder. Over the years, you’d come up with several reasons why he never fought for your relationship, not even considering that he might have assumed you had fallen out of love with him. At the end of every day, you simply thought he didn’t care anymore.
“I thought you were okay with it,” you said. “When I told you we were over, you just stood there. You didn’t ask why and I didn’t... answer.”
“I wasn’t okay with it,” he replied. “But I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”
With a thoughtful nod, you agreed, “there probably wasn’t.”
“Yeah, but I felt that way because I assumed that you—you didn’t want to be with me. That you didn’t care about me anymore. And you, uh,” he stopped here and waited for a long minute. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “You thought the opposite.”
You probably should have shouted at each other as you discussed this, you thought abruptly. That would have been appropriate. Maybe even healthy, all things considered.
But then, perhaps the realisation that you both had different views on why you broke up was precisely the thing that softened the impact. His hurt because you’d left him without an explanation, and your anger because he made you do it—they both took up outstanding amounts of space in your chests. They weighed you down. And they almost balanced each other out.
Perhaps you weren’t ready to shout just yet. Or not anymore.
Perhaps you’d left most of the shouting in the past four years ago. Now you were finally on the verge of closure.
That was the point, after all: the two of you boasted—really, there was no other word for it, you were both proud of it—that you’d never spoken to anyone about the details of your relationship.
That could have been admirable, of course, this utter devotion to each other and no one else. Except that, you didn’t talk about your relationship with each other, either.
“Do you think this is our own fault?” you asked. “We were good at talking about everything except… well, us.”
“I know,” Jungkook was quick to agree. You had both been like this from the very beginning—that’s likely why he was never fully aware of his behaviour. You’d always argued, but never about the things that really mattered. “I nearly threw up before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”
You did a double take, your mind racing to supply you with a memory that matched his words, but coming up short.
You squinted at him. “Did you actually ask?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but let it hang there, no words coming out for a good minute.
“You don't remember?!” he accused, his voice so high-pitched that it could almost shatter glass.
“I remember going on at least five dates before someone called you,” you explained, “and I heard you say into your phone, ‘sorry, I’m with my girlfriend.’ And that’s when I assumed that, huh. I guess I’m your girlfriend then.”
Jungkook could remember this exact moment. It was Sid who had called him because the two of them were working for Sid’s grandfather fixing his Camaro at the time. Jungkook had needed the money, while Sid simply enjoyed the ‘69 classic car.
The memory sent a shiver down his spine because he recalled turning Sid down. He had prioritised you over everything back then. What had happened to him later?
Regardless – in Jungkook’s mind, the timeline of your relationship was different.
“I vividly remember asking you on our second date,” he said.
You furrowed your eyebrows as you attempted to remember the very beginning of your relationship.
Your first date was the traditional movie and dinner—although it turned into a movie and the rain when you got stuck in the park. You recalled the whole day with near-perfect clarity.
Your second date was a week later, at the carnival in town. It took you three hours to get back to your dorms, because the event was held across the forest that separated the university campus from a small town nearby. Jungkook had insisted that you could walk home, he had claimed to know the way. And then he proceeded to get you lost within a few seconds of entering the forest.
All you could remember him asking you back then, was, ‘I know where I’m going, so trust me, okay?’ and that certainly did not include any terms that specified your relationship status.
Confused if you were remembering this wrong, you asked, “when we got lost on our way home from the carnival?”
“Before that!” he was even louder now, both of his hands in the air as he frantically explained, “on the Ferris wheel! I can’t believe you don’t remember!”
“On the Ferris—Jungkook, you had motion sickness the whole time we were on it,” you reminded him.
“I wasn’t sick,” he argued. “I was nervous.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “All you said to me during that entire ride was ‘please’ when we were at the very top.”
“That was me asking!”
“That was—” You laughed in surprise before you could finish the sentence. “Okay, well, you can see why I wouldn’t remember that, considering you didn’t use a lot of words to explain what you meant. I thought you were asking me to end the ride. Not that I could have ended it, but—”
“You said yes, though.”
You didn’t think you heard him right, his tone noticeably lower compared to the agitated screaming before. “Hm?”
“When I said, ‘please?’,” he spoke, “you said, ‘yes.’”
You watched him, considering it.
“I think I was asking,” you said and demonstrated, “yes?”
“No. You made a statement,” he disagreed, showing you, “yes.”
You pursed your lips, choosing to quit before this escalated into an argument.
“Alright, fine,” you said. “Maybe I read your mind, then.”
He scoffed, turning away. “And forgot about it…”
Nevermind taking the high road.
“Well, I didn't think it meant anything,” you argued, “you were—”
“I had a different plan. I was going to fully embrace The Notebook and dangle from someone else’s seat to ask you,” Jungkook said, “but for that to work, you would’ve had to go on the ride with someone else. And at that point, I couldn’t let you sit in that cabin with someone who wasn’t me.”
You could feel your cheeks stretching as an involuntary smile spread across your lips.
“That’s a little crazy,” you said gently.
“Please,” he replied, lowering himself on your bed until he was lying on his back. “It’s just crazy. I went on a binge-watching session of romantic films before our first few dates. I did my research.”
You knew him too well not to point out, “was it really only for research?”
“Alright, after the first few, I started to really enjoy them,” he admitted, earning a knowing nod from you. He smiled in response and continued, “but then I got to know you better, and I figured that if I serenaded you like Heath Ledger did in 10 Things I Hate About You, you’d break up with me immediately.”
Your laughter sounded so sincere and calming that Jungkook felt his smile widen as he turned his head to look at you from where he was lying on your bed.
“So I became a singer instead,” he said, encouraged by the lightness in your laugh. “You can’t break up with me if singing for you is my job.”
Your stomach performed an intricate Loop-the-Loop and then dropped, seemingly down ten floors, all the way to the lobby of the hotel.
Desperate, you tried, “you’re not—it’s not—”
Noticing you were about to downplay his words—either because you didn’t think he meant it, or because you didn’t feel comfortable knowing that he did—Jungkook changed the topic instead.
“Were you angry at me?” he asked. “For not chasing you after you left that time?”
Struggling to collect the remains of your thoughts, you spoke very slowly, “I... I was angry that you didn’t put in any effort while we were still together. After that, I thought you didn’t care anymore.”
“I did,” he said. Then, realising, he corrected himself, “I do. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again today.”
Hesitantly, you asked, “how do you mean? Because I left today?”
He nodded. “I'm not going to wait another four years before we talk about us.”
“Jungkook...” you said, but the sound of his name on your lips caused your thoughts to jumble once more. Your words stuck to your throat as your heart threw itself against the walls of your chest. You hoped to divert the topic, “y-you said there were two things. What—what’s the second thing?”
“The second thing is that I love you,” he said in one quick breath. “I took everything we had for granted, and I’m sorry. But the truth is that even then I was—I-I’d never stopped loving you.”
A sense of déjà vu clouded your mind, while the rest of your body reacted as if this was the first time you’d heard him say this. As if the four years you hadn’t been together were long enough to start a new lifetime, and now you’ve met again, reincarnated into different people – Jungkook, the vocalist of a rock band, and you, the manager.
But, buried deep in your subconscious, locked away in a box that your brain dared not touch even in a dreaming state, was the memory of the first time he’d said these words to you.
It was spring. You’d been together for about five or six months at that point, and you’d skipped class together to go to the same park where you’d had your first date. You’d spent the whole day walking around hand-in-hand, reminiscing about the past, dreaming of the future, taking pictures of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and picking up the pale pink leaves from the grass to throw them at each other.
During the car ride back home, you were so exhausted that you could hardly keep your eyes open. The two of you had been running around so much—his energy was infectious, you’d both acted like Golden Retrievers set loose—that your legs felt wobbly and unsteady.
After a few more minutes, you had lost the battle against yourself and settled more comfortably into the passenger seat, closing your eyes. Your mind was already beginning to fill with the bliss of sleep when Jungkook stopped the car at a red light.
He glanced at you, seemingly asleep on the seat beside him, and leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed a pale cherry blossom in your hair and a soft smile on your lips.
It was nothing more than a whisper—“I love you so much”—that slipped from his lips because he thought you were asleep. Nothing more than an overwhelmed confession as his heart drowned in his feelings.
But, to this day, nothing has ever come close to making your heart beat nearly as fast as it had in that car when the light turned green and he drove back to your dorm, still thinking you were asleep. That first confession of love remained a secret between you, him, and the stray cherry blossom nestled in your hair.
Slowly, you opened your eyes as the memory tugged at each and every cell of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You looked around the hotel room before you dared to look at him again.
Contrary to what Jungkook believed, you didn’t appear collected because you were done. Or because you didn’t want to fight with yourself about wanting him anymore.
It was because you were tired of still wanting him so much in spite of everything.
You were tired of forcing yourself to let go. To move on. To be rational and responsible.
Tired of feeling happy about things that were probably inappropriate.
Tired of finding those things inappropriate.
But rationally, you knew that you had to leave this behind and return to your normal lives after this, regardless of what you wanted.
It’d be much harder—to an infinite extent—because this wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going.
Quietly, you broke the silence, “I’m sorry, too.”
“Why?” he asked, sitting up on the bed.
“We can’t...” the words trailed off before you could catch up. You tried again, “I can’t—we can't do this.”
He observed the battle behind your eyes and then spoke, very softly, almost inaudibly, “we’re not doing anything wrong.”
“We’re—"
“We’re the ones who put meaning to things,” he continued. Not to contradict you, but to reassure you. “If we say it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't.”
You shook your head with a sad smile, the situation vaguely familiar.
“It’s never that simple,” you said. “There’s so much more than just you and me to consider.”
“It is simple,” he insisted. Then, just like back in your bunk on the tour bus, he asked, “do you want me to leave?”
Just like back then, you answered without hesitation, “no.”
“Then this can have as much or as little meaning as you want it to. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “I’m yours. You are all I’m considering. And I’m staying.”
In less than a second, the determination in his voice made you realise that rational didn’t always mean reasonable.
Rationally, you knew you should have drawn the line. You should have left or told him to leave. Should have distanced yourself from him for the sake of your heart. Your job. For the sake of the atmosphere backstage.
You were aware of all the damage this could do. You were aware of the risk. Of the questions. Of the pain.
You were aware that you were having the very conversation that you’d stopped him from pursuing a few hours ago on the street. But your response to him was vastly different now.
Really, the situation felt different, too.
The second thing is that I love you.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—
You couldn’t imagine yourself leaving.
There was no place in the whole world that you would have rather been in right now. And no one else you would have wanted to share that place with.
It felt reasonable to stay. And wish for him to stay, too.
Jungkook had to scoot closer on the bed to reduce the distance between you two, and as soon as he did, he leaned in right away. He’d hesitated before, got scared, panicked and changed his mind. Tonight, he would do nothing of the sort.
His lips touched yours before you could formulate a single doubt and his kiss effectively silenced all the noises and echoes in your head.
Truthfully, he knew that there was a third thing he didn’t tell you, but when you kissed him back, less tentatively than the first time on the bus, he couldn’t imagine ever saying anything to you again. Speaking seemed like an immeasurable waste of time.
Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips locked on yours as one of his hands held the side of your face. His gentle fingertips contrasted with the coldness of his lip ring against your lips as he touched the skin of your cheek like he wasn’t sure, not even now, that it was really you he was holding. His other hand found its way around your waist and settled there—the gesture so intimate, so familiar.
He kissed you and it felt inevitable. Like everything you’d been doing up to this point was meant to lead you here – even the break-up four years ago.
As Jungkook felt your hands on his chest, careful and barely there, he mentally cursed himself for wearing this white shirt yet again—the fabric was too thick for him to properly feel you.
Still, he recognised the ghost of your touch as though he’d never been apart from you. As though you’d always stayed like this, locked in a desperate embrace in the tenth-floor room of a hotel in Amsterdam.
There were endless somethings bursting persistently in his chest as he tasted you, deepening the kiss by bringing his tongue over yours. Fireworks and flames and entire conflagrations all wreaked havoc on his heart.
This time, there were no promises of five minutes, and no curtains to separate you from everyone else. When you whimpered quietly, in response to him pulling you up until one of your legs was thrown over his and you were seated firmly on his thigh, he was the only one who heard it. The only one who felt your heavy breathing on his lips as he kissed you.
And if, by a lucky chance, there was any oxygen left in the room, neither of you needed it as your holds on each other grew tighter, hands grasping whatever materials they could reach and pulling—until he took your shirt off, until you took off his.
Every single one of your nerve endings was focused solely on him—his taste, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the roughness of his dark jeans underneath you, the softness of the skin on his chest. Your body instinctively drew closer, prompting him to clench his thigh as he wrapped his arms around you even more tightly.
His lips gently trailed kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, and it was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. He remembered your body—how could he forget when it haunted his dreams almost every night?—but he yearned to create new memories, to trace the lines of your figure that he’d memorised and bring them to life in a new and different way.
You helped his eager hands find the edge of your sports bra and had to briefly pull away from him to slide it over your head. He pulled you back to him as soon as you did, needing to get lost in your touch, to feel your skin against his.
Your hotel room was filled with so much electricity, the two of you could have lit all of Amsterdam up.
“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I have to say,” he breathed against your lips while his hands caressed your exposed sides, tracing the familiar maps on your skin.
You pulled him closer by gripping the back of his neck and exhaled, “show me instead.”
The meaningfulness, or rather, meaninglessness, of the moment seemed secondary. You wouldn’t analyse what this symbolised or where you stood.
Instead, you’d analyse how kissing him—touching him, feeling his skin, hearing his breathing—felt good. How it felt right. Like you’d been lying to yourself by doing everything else but this.
Sitting on his lap as he held you firmly in his arms—essentially trapping you in his grip, in his scent, in him—you could feel the rest of the world fade away into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t consider important at this given point.
Focusing on the feeling of his tongue against yours and the firmness underneath you, you allowed the scorching heat of the moment to take control of your movements as you instinctively moved your hips against his and forced him to suck in a shaky breath.
You undid the buckle of his belt and he had to pull back just a little, breaking the kiss. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by your closeness and the rapid beating of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you had been this close, but it had been so long, and he’d wanted this so much, that it felt like he’d never done this before.
Noticing your trembling hands, he helped you with his belt by loosening his grip on your waist. As soon as your fingers reached the zipper of his pants, he grabbed your forearms—successfully halting your progress in ridding him of his jeans—and swiftly flipped you over onto your back on the bed.
Your eyes met for a split second as he hovered over you, silently exchanging a conversation that neither of you dared to voice.
He leaned in to kiss you again and allowed you to get back to the previous task. Kissing him back, you finally managed to lower his jeans to his knees, and the simple feeling of your touch on the back of his thighs nearly made him see stars. Leaning his forehead against yours, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to regain his composure.
He briefly sat up to kick off his jeans—as quickly as he could, because the room temperature fell a hundred degrees when he wasn’t touching you—and you took a moment to trace the patterns of ink on his arm with your eyes.
You were with him when he got his first tattoo.
He acted tough in the tattoo parlour, but once the artist took you both down to the basement, all of his bravery faded. It was rather chilly down there—Jungkook was pouting when he took his jacket off, revealing his shivering skin—and he’d chosen his knuckles as a place for his first tattoo. It was going to hurt.
He knew that, in theory. But the way he squeezed your hand and bit his lip when the needle pierced his skin for the first time still surprised you both. You weren’t sure who was in more pain by the end of the session—him, from the fresh ink on his hand, or you, from how hard he’d been squeezing your hand.
Now, he had a full sleeve. And you felt a pang of pain in your chest, because there were so many tattoos that you hadn’t seen him get.
You hadn’t been there when the needle pierced his skin again and again. You hadn’t seen the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and placed a hand on your knee—for support, for reassurance, for all-consuming love.
You hadn’t helped him apply lotion on the fresh ink, hadn’t teased him for being a baby, hadn’t been shut up with a kiss. You hadn’t traced the intricate lines on his skin with the tips of your fingers—careful, gentle, loving.
You hadn’t been there for four years.
But you were here now.
Just as your gaze reached his shoulder, your eyes locked on the patterns you’d never touched, Jungkook turned to you and caught you staring. The dazed look in your eyes before he had even done anything affected him in more ways than he could count.
With a wide, shameless grin and a raised eyebrow, he leaned into you again. You noticed right away that he was about to say something that would surely ruin the moment, but you pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before he could.
“Don’t,” you warned. There was humour and light and excitement in your eyes.
Chuckling as if you’d read his mind, he pressed a kiss to your lips and mumbled, “wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Liar,” you exhaled against his mouth as he quickly slid your biker shorts and panties down your hips, your back barely leaving the bed.
“Honest,” he countered in a soft whisper, his lips hovering over your neck as his hands returned to your waist and he aligned your hips with his. “I have better things on my mind.”
It was hard to determine which one of you was to blame for ending this unnecessary bickering by inhaling too sharply – you, who reached the edge of his boxers and pulled them down, removing the last layer of clothing between you; or him, who gently caressed your thighs, drawing deliberately slow, teasing circles that inched closer to your core.
He managed to kick off his boxers without letting go of you—which was a talent that was difficult to advertise, but a talent nonetheless—and kissed you deeply. One of his fingers slid over your thighs and traced over your folds, causing your body to twitch in anticipation as you gripped his forearms for support.
His touch felt foreign and familiar at the same time – he knew how to find every single one of your nerve endings, but your body seemed to have forgotten that he knew.
It was almost frightening how he sensed exactly how to touch you to elicit a response—the pillows of his fingers effortlessly reached the bundle of nerves on your clit at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed involuntarily, seeking more friction. Your breathing grew louder every time he applied more pressure to his touch.
It really didn’t feel fair at all—the way he appeared to know your body better than you did, even after all these years.
A frustrated whimper escaped your lips when he added another finger, picking up the pace. He alternated between gentle rubs and teasing caresses, and his touch made your head spin, but you wanted more of him. All of him.
He only inserted a finger for a fraction of a second before lightly brushing it over your folds—the motion so sweet and then suddenly not enough. Your nails were about to draw blood from how tight you were gripping his arms.
“Don’t tease,” you exhaled, more a plea than a command. “Not now.”
There was a hint of promise here, and Jungkook smiled before nodding. He kissed your lips, but instead of pulling away, he increased his pace—toying with your clit with just enough pressure and at just the right angle that you could have cried out if you hadn’t been biting your lip so hard.
“Fuck,” was all you could respond with as your eyes rolled back from the intense sensation. “Jungkook—”
This time his name was encouraging. It was begging. It made him groan as he leaned in, already almost painfully hard as he rubbed your clit, spreading your wetness with his fingers.
“Hmm.” He touched your neck with his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful.”
“Fuck,” you repeated, the relentless ministrations of his fingers rendering you incapable of a more coherent sentence. “Fuck.”
And just when you felt the pressure in your stomach building, he pulled away abruptly.
The loss of contact made you exhale with enough agitation for it to resemble a whine. This earned you a smirk from him as he pulled back slightly, convinced he was just doing what you’d asked because he did indeed stop teasing.
To be fair, it was for his benefit, too. Your body, your warmth, your heavy breaths—he knew it all teased him more than he could ever tease you.
Struggling to maintain his composure, he bit his lip and reached for his length, giving it a few languid strokes.
The first glimpses of concern started to creep in when he realised he had no protection, but he saw you nod at the pile of suitcases by your bed. Confused initially, he rolled off of you and approached what appeared to be a welcome basket on top of the pile.
“Don’t tell me…” he mumbled in disbelief as he picked up the wicker basket—decorated with an appropriate white bow.
“Yeah,” you confirmed his thoughts and sure enough, among complimentary bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, he found a box of condoms.
Under different circumstances, he would have embraced his inner teenager and dropped everything to giggle at this, but he tried to stay composed. That is, until he looked at you and saw that you were biting your lip in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.
“Well, this is quite convenient,” he remarked, encouraged by your amusement, as he climbed back on the bed. “Almost meant to be, no?”
“Don’t spoil the moment,” you warned, pressing your lips together to conceal your smile. “Just hurry.”
“Say that again for me?” he teased. “I love it when you beg.”
Undeterred by the punch on his shoulder that he received in response, Jungkook laughed and ripped the bag open. He unrolled the condom onto his length with relative ease despite the slight shake in his hands.
You reached out to help him, and he realised he might actually pass out when he felt you touch him. The tips of your fingers were on the tip of his length as he brought it closer to your entrance.
He shook his head and warned breathlessly, all of his previous confidence gone, “I’m not—not going to last long.”
He could tell as much even before he entered you, but after you nodded—giving him voiceless permission—and, slowly, almost agonisingly, he slid inside, he realised he may have miscalculated.
He might not last at all.
Lowering his head as he paused, not even halfway in, he bit his lip in concentration and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get himself together when you looked like that under him—almost too lost in the feeling of him, in the pleasant stretch, in the way you couldn’t help but clench around him as your walls anticipated fitting all of him in.
“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily as you tightened around him. He really needed to get a grip. More sternly, he repeated, “fuck,” and, with a more forceful thrust of his hips, he fully bottomed out.
You threw your head back at the sudden motion, needing a second to adjust to the stretch. This was helped greatly by one of his hands as he caressed your hips, your waist, your breasts while he gave you as much time as you needed. Hė toyed with your nipple between his fingers and the gentle touch and the utmost admiration in his dark eyes sent sparks straight to your core.
After you quietly urged him to move, it still took him a whole minute before he felt confident enough to pull almost all the way out and then push back in, testing both of your limits. He looked at you—because he couldn’t not look at you underneath him, not even if it meant he’d lose himself right away—and the expression on your face was so dreamy that he didn’t even realise he shuddered in exhilaration.
Your head was still thrown back as you held your lower lip in a tight grip between your teeth. When you slowly opened your eyes, your gaze met his right away. And there was barely anything—fuck it, there was nothing—that he could have done to prepare for it.
He thought he may as well have died then and there because nothing in his life would ever compare to the colour of your eyes when you looked at him.
Swallowing the groan in the back of his throat, he leaned in to press his lips to yours as he began to move. It was slow at first, then his hips gradually gained more speed as he felt your warm walls pulling him in. Your fingers found their way to his hair, getting tangled in the dark strands as his hips pressed into yours harder—not just faster, but with more force, too, each brush of his length igniting a new fire inside of you.
He made it impossible for you to catch your breath as he kissed you with as much fervour as before, not once slowing down the pace of his hips. Everything he did was in response to you—the way you arched your back, your whimpers in between the messy, open-mouthed kisses, the way you pulled his hair, the way you held onto his shoulders.
He knew that if he lost concentration, he’d unravel immediately. It’s been so long, too long. He’s wasted far too many nights in foreign beds, chasing highs that had always felt forced and artificial. He wasn’t prepared for the real thing. He wasn’t prepared for you.
“Fuck. I’d missed you, my love,” he whispered hazily between kisses, each word accompanied by a thrust of his hips, “so fucking much.”
You felt shivers run down your spine again. If you could have formed a sentence—let alone voiced it—you would have reciprocated.
You would have told him that you missed him too. And you would have told him how much it scared you, the way this feeling was so intense that you seemed to disregard everything else.
But you couldn’t focus.
His length stroked your walls with an exemplary balance of force and tenderness. His tongue was in your mouth, the kiss hot, heavy, messy. His hands were all over your skin, warm, eager, relentless.
He filled your head with stars.
You could not speak, you could not say anything that wasn’t a breathless whisper of his name every time he pulled away to give you both a chance to inhale.
He understood you without words, however. And the response you had to him was about to tip him over the edge. His movements became too fast to be precise, his thrusts grew sloppy, his breathing got heavier, his groans louder.
The knot in your stomach formed much faster than you would have liked. You wanted this to last longer, but all of it felt reckless—dangerous and outrageous—and so good—too­ good—that you broke the kiss, a strangled cry of his name passing your lips as a warning that you were close.
“Yeah?” he whispered, kissing your jaw as he pressed his thumb on your clit. The rubbing motion matched the speed of his hips and the intensified pleasure caught you so unexpectedly that you could no longer control how loud you were.
Your heavy breaths mixed with curses and broken fragments of his name—he knew these sounds would echo around his mind for every waking moment—as your back arched off the bed and into him.
And when he heard you cry out, when he felt your grip on his arms tighten as your body jerked forwards, your hips meeting his, then lowering again in uncontrollable muscle spasms, when he felt your walls clench around him so much that they nearly stopped his movements, he almost whined, sensing his own high, brought on by the feeling of yours.
There were curses spilling from your lips as you came and you held onto him so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises on his arms tomorrow morning. Already, he couldn’t wait to look at them. He couldn’t wait to do this again.
His hips drove into yours—sloppily, accompanied by loud sounds of skin slapping on skin—until he fell over the edge, groaning loudly as he spilled himself into the condom. His body twitched as he pushed into you—one final stroke of your soft, sensitive walls—then he stilled completely.
His face was inches from yours, and you were the one who reached out to connect your lips, turning his groan into a dangerous whimper. Your kiss burned through him like electricity and, impossibly, seemed to prolong his climax.
He kissed you back like it was the first time, still powerless from his high, still feeling like he was floating, unable to come down, to pull out, to stop kissing you.
Breathless, you whined against his mouth and felt him stir inside of you, sparking a sudden new fire in your stomach before the previous one could fully go out.
He wanted you, needed you still—maybe he’d never stop. But it was the way you responded to him, the way he felt you need him as much as he needed you, that made him growl into the kiss as his hands reached for the parts of you that he'd touched hundreds of times tonight already.
It was almost desperate, the way you were still clinging to one another—like you’d never touched each other before and never would again.
Finally, you pulled away to inhale. And to, hopefully, recover.
“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, summarising all that you were about to say.
You both chuckled, giddy, excited, almost euphoric.
He rested his forehead against yours and pressed another soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, and stepping back to discard the condom.
In no more than three seconds, he was back on the bed next to you, pulling you to his side and kissing you once more.
It was three seconds then, he decided, that he could survive away from you.
For a good minute after that, the two of you just watched each other, your chests rising and falling as your bodies tried to fathom something that your minds failed to grasp.
Suddenly, you shook your head.
“What?” he asked. His lips were stretched into what felt like a permanent smile.
“Nothing, I just… it would be very difficult to explain where we were if someone noticed us missing,” you said—your words humorous, but the meaning behind them serious.
Even though you smiled as you spoke, Jungkook swallowed and nodded, solemn all of a sudden.
“I know,” he said. “And I don’t care if anyone knows. I only care that we do.”
You ran your tongue over your swollen lips, preparing to say something that he knew he wouldn’t like. But he was paralysed as he watched you. He swore your lips were the colour of his dreams, and he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t lean over and kiss you again.
He forced himself to roll onto his back and spoke up before you could, making sure his voice was as nonchalant as possible, given the hurricane inside his chest, “can we—can we not talk about that right now? Can I just stay here instead?”
You looked at him—which was incredibly easy when he wasn’t looking back at you—and forgot, for a moment, that you had to reply.
He looked almost ethereal like this, with his head resting on the pillows next to you, his hair tousled, stray curls sticking to the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his lips pursed slightly as he stared ahead. A part of you wished to take a picture, to hold onto this moment forever. But a different part of you didn’t want anyone else to witness him like this, not even the lens of your phone camera.
He suddenly turned his head to look at you and you blinked, averting your eyes as you remembered that you hadn’t spoken.
“Hmm. Yes,” you said, the word scratchy as it caught in your dry throat. You cleared it and tried again, “okay.”
Jungkook hummed somehow ambiguously and looked away.
“What?” you asked, confused by the look on his face.
“I thought you’d still tell me to leave,” he admitted.
You sighed. “You should. But I want you to stay. I’m fine with doing what I want tonight, however stupid that might turn out to be.”
He ignored the doubt in your voice—he was getting good at that—and looked at you again. He knew you probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of fire your words ignited inside of him, and just how far the sparks travelled on his skin.
“Then I hope you know,” he said, “that I’m fine with only getting ten minutes of sleep tonight.”
Quietly, you replied, “I think I’m fine, too.”
“Yeah?” he asked, briskly turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow with renewed excitement.
His abrupt jump made you chuckle despite your best attempts to remain serious, and his grin widened as he brought his hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you once more. Then, twice more. Then three more times—in perpetuity, he hoped.
He knew that he was blessed to have experienced a lot of happiness in his life. But nothing came close to the feeling of your lips on his as the two of you played around in your hotel bed in Amsterdam, two nights before his band’s inaugural performance in The Netherlands during their first European tour.
This was a dream, it had to be.
And he was determined to do everything to make sure he never woke up from it.
Tumblr media
chapter title credits: sleep token, “like that”
Tumblr media
prev ○ next
404 notes · View notes
jpnriikicore · 8 months
Text
── jolene, jolene
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
paring colby brock x fem!musican!reader, word count 574, genre angst, ( masterlist )
Tumblr media
your coming back from the dance studio after hours of choreographing a new choreography for the bands comeback. as you walks into the trap house sam and corey gave you a weird look. that’s odd. you knew prank wars was going on between the members of the house. so, you didn’t think too much into it. maybe one of them locked you out of colby’s room. hell, maybe they pranked colby.
once getting close enough to colby’s room you hears a female voice inside. you puts your ear on the door to listen better. the females voice is was very familiar, but you couldn’t understand what they was saying the voices were muffled. most likely he was just talking to one of his friends on speaker phone. you opened colby’s bedroom door to only see a fucking nightmare. the familiar redheaded was jolene meadows one of five members who is in the girl band your apart of. she is extremely too close to her boyfriend for your liking. his shirt and her yellow sundress tousled on the floor. both their hair is disheveled. flustered. both of them are flustered. your eyes dart back and forth between the two. your heart fucking drops in realization.
"i’ll be moved out by today." you spoke cold heartedly, shutting the door behind you.
you had to be in a nightmare. a very realistic nightmare. really, jolene? you should have saw it coming. they make a good couple really. you just wished he had the manners to tell you he doesn’t love you anymore and wanted to see other people. just spare you and not waste your time any longer. wasted years for absolutely nothing. jolene acted like a friend for years. who knows how long this has been on? was you mad? no. was you disappointed? yes, because you wasted so much on him. the person you believe you was going to end up with. you spent countless of nights talking about marriage and kids with him. apparently, words mean nothing.
you hope that it was worth it. you wished them the best of luck even if they wasn’t dating you hope that they continue to live their best lives.
you continued to walk out of the trap house. you heard them yelling, but you ignored them. your mind racing more than it ever has. tears slowly started to form, but you refused to let your feelings get the best of you. you unlock and start to open your car door, but he was quicker. he shut the door and blocked your way to get into the car.
"it’s a prank."
you roll your eyes and scoff in disbelief. how stupid did he think you was? "yeah, sure." you glance over at jolene, who was now fully dressed and holding a camera.
"y/n, it’s a prank." you look into his eyes. his eyes don’t lie. well, not to you anyways. you’ve spent way to many hours learning how to read him like a book. his blue eyes were sucking you back in.
"no bullshit?"
"no bullshit."
you bend down with a hand on your heart. "holy shit, i thought i was losing the love of my life and one of my bests friends all at once."
"I’m sorry, I’m sorry." he apologized, as he engulfed you in a hug. he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.
"you better be." you mumbled into his chest.
© JPNRIIKICORE, 2023
771 notes · View notes
Text
Pretty Girl
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
Tumblr media
author’s note: I finally caves and joined the Ghost pit. This is my first real attempt at writing full smut so be gentle lmao. Reader’s callsign is “Necro” 
warnings: smut, talk of body issues, mention of injury. 
word count: 2k
-----
     Soap enjoyed needling the masked soldier more than any of you did of course, but maybe that's just because he could get away with it more. 
     You said it’s because Ghost had a soft spot for him. 
     “Bet you live a real double life Lt.”
      “How so?” 
     He sits across from you, long legs stretched out under the rickety table covered in turned over cards from the others that turned in earlier. You're hardly playing anymore, but the way his boot knocks against yours every other minute keeps you from getting up. 
     “You’re a right fucking terror but I’d bet money on you being some secret softie.” It’s a poor attempt at getting him to lose focus. So he doesn’t see Soap’s knee bouncing like a blinking beacon he got dealt a shit hand. 
     Ghost doesn’t budge.
     “You see me as the picket-fence type, Johnny?” 
     “Wife and kids too, I’d bet.” He plucks a card from the deck and grins. “Probably the coach of the football team and everything.” 
     While the idea of your Lieutenant coaching some junior soccer league - and no doubt getting entirely too angry at a bunch of six year olds taking the ball in the wrong direction - was arguably fucking hilarious- 
     You noticed a shift the moment Soap spoke to him. 
     Ghost draws up, like a string inside him had pulled taught. Something flashes in his eyes then disappears just as quickly. 
     Soap looks to you before dropping his eyes to the cards in his hand. 
     An exposed nerve neither one of you were aware even existed has just been pulled open in the middle of a poker game and nobody knew how to tend to it’s bleeding. 
     “I call bullshit on that.” 
     You could certainly try though.
     “Guy like you?” Ghost turns and suddenly that silent tremor of anger is being shot your way instead of Mctavish’s. He seems grateful for it. At least you assume he is, since you're putting your ass on the line for him now.“Would definitely be a shit husband.” 
     It’s nothing. A light jab at the kevlar covered core of the man across from you who could arguably very well be somebody’s husband -none of you truly know much about him aside from the origin of his accent and his own horrid humor he terrorizes you all with. But it’s enough. His shoulders slump and the tension in the room ebbs away as he leans forward on his knee, cards completely neglected in his hand. 
     “What makes you so sure?” 
     You toss your own hand on the table. Cards splay out in front of them both and you hear Soap mumble a barely legible ‘fucking cheat’ as you stand. 
     “Call it a woman’s intuition.” You nod towards Ghost, who watches you through narrowed eyes as you leave.
     “I’m turning in. Have fun with the full house.” 
     You count ten minutes into their next game before the door opens. You don’t bother turning over from your spot on the creaking couch you’ve played yourself out. It’s only a matter of seconds from when Ghost enters the room that he’s tugging the blanket off of your body. 
     “Your lack of subtly is becoming appalling lieutenant-” 
     A sudden pull at your hips leaves you falling face first into a dusty pillow until your ass is in the air and he’s tugging your pants down at a frantic pace. Teeth graze the inside of your thigh and you groan. 
     “Don’t give a fuck about subtly tonight.” 
     Clearly. 
     “Had more pressing matters to attend to.” 
     “You let Soap win?”
     Two fingers slip beneath the band of your panties and slide through the slick of your cunt. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as presses himself against your ass, cock straining against his fatigues. 
      Sex with Ghost is always powerful. Rough hands pushing and pulling you into place on disciplined muscle in between debriefings. His mask lifted up just high enough that you see a flash of his mouth before he sinks it into the scarred skin of your chest until it blooms with his own bruises. 
     But it’s different tonight. 
     Fingers breach the give of your cunt and you dig your fingers into the cushion beneath you. 
      “That’s it.” His hips rock against yours as you hear the sound of him undoing his belt with his free hand. “Fucking soaked for me, Necro.” 
     He’s rushing.
     The stretch of his cock against your walls tips over the cliff bordering on pain but then he leans down, covering your body with his own and tucking his face into the crook of your neck. Your lieutenant isn’t small by any stretch of the word. The first time you took his cock in full was prefaced by slow orgasms pulled from your body with his tongue and fingers until you were trembling for him. Even then he slowly sank into you inch by inch until you were grabbing at his shoulders to make him move. But now there is no warm up or gentle touches. Nothing but stars behind your eyelids and mumbles of “That’s it, darling. Take it.” that rumble from his chest as he begins to drag his cock from the grip of your pussy before sinking it back in at a cruel pace. 
     You hear the scraping of a chair across the floor in the other room. Most likely Soap turning in for the night. It strikes you with the awareness that neither of you are being particularly quiet. 
     “Oh, Jesus.” 
     “Nah. Just me this time.” 
     What begins as a laugh melts into a shuddering cry you muffle with your own hand until he grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head. 
     “Don’t do that, Necro. Let me hear you, yeah?” His breath fans out over the back of your neck. “Let me know how good I make you feel.” 
     “The others-” 
     “Won’t do a fucking thing about it.”  He rasps. “They all know I’d bash their heads in if they even thought of taking me away from you.” 
     The double meaning makes your head spin but you push it away. It isn’t something you can afford to think about when your slick has begun to drip down your thigh and the room has become nothing but a choir of your voice mixing with his in the most carnal way possible. 
     The hard surface of his mask bumps the back of your head as his teeth drag against the small of your neck. 
     He knows you so well it’s angering. Every curve and crook of your body responding to his touch while you’ve yet to see his face.
     The civilian part of your brain whispers in your ear and tugs on the thread. That a man who fucked like this while calling you names had surely been swiped up by somebody years prior. 
     “You know, maybe Soap was right.” You look over your shoulder and grin at him. His mask has slipped ever so slickly that you can see a scar poking out under his eye. 
     "I've bet you got a pretty girl waiting for you back at home." 
     "Why would I want a pretty girl when I have you?" 
     It's said so plainly. So flat and blunt you can’t help but bark out a laugh that has you squeezing his cock as he drills into you. 
     "You calling me ugly, lieutenant?" 
     A trained hand wraps around your throat and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel coarse hair rub against your bare back as his hips snap against yours. ‘He took his shirt off.’ you realize. ‘When did he have time to take his shirt off?’
     Sneaky bastard. 
     “I’m calling you mine, Necro.” 
     He pulls out of your pussy and you barely have enough time to register the empty feeling of your own orgasm dwindling away before he’s flipping you onto your back and slamming back into you. 
     “You hear me?” Ghost grips your thighs so hard you're sure there will be bruises come morning but you just nod. “Those sweet tits and that wet little cunt are all mine, aren’t they?” 
     Even as he fucks into you at a brutal pace you can tell something is different. He’s possessive and needy in a way you’ve never seen but welcome nonetheless. Maybe your comment really got to him. 
     Maybe he does have some lonely little housewife back at home. 
     “Say it.” 
     You hope not. 
     “Say youre all mine.”
     Adultery didn't need to join the laundry list of reasons you were going to hell. 
     His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and you're shocked back into the moment. “Necro-” he rasps. He noses at your cheek, mouthing at your skin like he’s committing you to memory. “C’mon, let me hear it. Say youre all mine.”
     He’s begging. Fucking Ghost of Task Force team 141 is begging for you and its giving you a high you'll never be able to kick. 
     He slides his hand down your stomach and the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit and you cry out. 
     "Say it." 
     "I'm yours, Ghost." 
     Ghost groans against your cheek, teeth and tongue flicking out in a mess of a kiss to your salty skin. 
     “Goddamn right you are. My Necro, my pretty girl. That’s you, isn’t it?” 
     "Say it." His mouth drags against the shell of your ear as he orders you. "Say 'I'm your pretty girl, Simon'." 
     For a moment you freeze and he wonders if he's crossed a boundary. 
     No, fuck that. He knows he's crossed a boundary. 
     Before this it had only been Ghost or Lieutenant and the occasional "you fucking perv". 
     But Simon was personal. Simon was raw. It was one inch closer to the man beneath the mask than he had ever let anybody else get to and he’s blurting it out mid stroke like some pussy-drunk highschooler on prom night. 
     You're looking at him like he just fucking proposed and for a sliver of a second he wonders what that’d be like before ripping the thought to pieces with his incisors. 
     He wonders if he’s struck a nerve.  
     The lieutenant had once said something of the ilk before. After an infiltration that left you all walking away exhausted and half of you needing medical attention, he found you in the safe house bathroom, blood dripping from your nose and staining the front of your shirt. 
     "It looks worse than it is." You defend when he crosses his shoulders and overtakes the space around you. "It's not even broken." 
     "Yeah." He shifts from one foot to another. "It looks like it's been broken before, though." 
     The concern coating your face in fear of angering your superior was wiped away at his statement and replaced with a flat expression.
     "Well if you want to pay for the nose job-" you turn on your heel to face the dingy bathroom mirror once more and continue cleaning the blood from your face. "-be my fucking guest, sir." 
     He made it up to you, of course. That same night you had spent three hours finding ecstasy again and again with your legs wrapped around his head, the crooked ridge of his own nose lighting you ablaze with the way it rubbed and dragged against your clit. 
     You were all broad shoulders and hardened muscles. Hands calloused like his own and he savored the way they felt against his biceps when all you could do was hold onto him and muffle your moans by biting into his shoulder. 
     Simon was nice like that.
     But it didn’t change what you knew. You weren’t pretty. Not in the classic definition. 
     Some days you were indiscernible from the men on the team. With hair cropped close to your scalp and covered in just as much blood and scars as the others, there was nothing small or lithe about you that stood out in contrast to them all.
     Perhaps it was an old insecurity he unearthed on accident. One you thought had been buried away but was slowly uncovered by every poke and prod about your femininity or lack thereof by your teammates. Until years of poorly hidden remarks and self image came barrelling forward from a teammate who was doing his own poorly made attempt of saying something romantic while the two of you screwed in a safe house. 
     Simon wonders if this is the last time you’ll let him fuck you. 
     There’s a moment he’s convinced it is. You’re watching him with wide eyes, completely frozen underneath him and he’s about to apologize, something the liutenant doesn’t fucking do and doesn’t know how to do when he’s already balls deep inside of you but then your hands settle on the back of his neck. You take a shaking breath before nodding. “Yeah.” your hands pull him down to you as you speak in a trembling voice that has him drowning. 
     “I’m your pretty girl, Simon.” 
3K notes · View notes
mathanlin · 8 months
Text
Hero AU where school counselor!Phil has to deal with… interesting students.
Namely, the three boys he sees constantly bickering in the hallways.
And slamming cars into each other on the news.
Ridiculously, none of them know who the others are.
But Phil notices the *moment* new young vigilantes start popping up. The trio’s dropping grades, spotty attendance, and injuries only confirm it.
Or, y’know. Tommy mumbling, “What would you do if you were a hero?”
Phil helps in the least obvious ways he can.
Modifying their grades to be a bit less suspicious, leaving out ice packs by his office door (easy to steal), writing late passes without a bit of resistance.
But he can only be so subtle.
“So, Red.”
Tommy’s head jerks up. 
Phil almost laughs. “You’ve heard of him, huh? I figure he’s your favorite.”
Tommy shifts awkwardly in his chair — readjusting the wound Phil knows lies beneath his sweater. “Better than the fuckin’ Blade.”
Techno. Honors student. Flawless GPA. Volunteer. And vigilante.
Far closer to a villain.
“If only I could give the Blade a lecture,” Phil says, unable to stop a chuckle, and barely managing to not say, *You two have to stop beating the shit out of each other.*
Eventually, Phil gives up on subtlety & calls them all down to his office.
“So. I heard you’ve been getting into fights.”
Wilbur, drama kid — or Siren, smooth-tongued — is the first to act, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Then Techno. “Mr. Watson, I would *never.*”
“Then what’s that?”
Phil nods to the bruise beneath Techno’s turtleneck — from a hit Siren landed. Then, to Wilbur’s knuckles, ever so slightly battered.
And neither seem to notice a thing. 
Phil pinches his brow, sighing.
“Alright. Then Tommy. Care to explain the state of your shoes?” (Burnt, melted from running through rubble the Blade had created.)
*There* it is. Techno frowns, leaning back to peek — and Tommy quickly tucks his feet beneath the chair.
“Nothing.”
“Where were you all last night?”
Every single kid tenses. 
And starts rambling out excuses.
“I was— studying, of course—”
“Well, *I* was trying to get ice cream, and that bitch the Blade showed up—”
“Bitch?” Techno cries before catching himself. “I think you mean *Red* and *Siren*—”
“What the fuck?” Wilbur splutters. “Siren was trying to calm those two fuckers down—”
“Boys,” Phil says. “Look. All three of those heroes would be better *together,* right? Not fighting, not hurting each other?”
“Maybe,” Tommy finally mumbles, toeing at the floor, “but… why are we talking about heroes?”
Phil tips back in his chair, face in hands.
“Come on. Someone figure it out.”
Silence. 
Phil groans. “Wilbur, you quit band two months ago. Techno, Tommy, who showed up two months ago?”
More silence.
“Uhh… I don’t know.”
“Techno,” Phil says, almost desperate. “You tutor Tommy, right? What happens after he disappears from your lessons?”
“I… go home,” Techno lies. 
Phil lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, you go where *he* goes. And where’s that?”
Tommy’s eyes start to narrow.
“You like Greek shit. Like… the Blade,” he says quietly, staring at Techno. Then, at Wilbur. “And *you’re* a pretentious bastard. Like *Siren.*”
Phil raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile.
“And you’re a little shit,” Wilbur snaps, then— pales. “Like… Red?”
“*There* we go,” Phil says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now, I have a plan. If you three work together, I truly believe that—”
It’s a shame Phil’s office is so tiny.
There’s no room for three vigilantes to sufficiently beat the shit out of each other.
.
.
.
Just the idea of the three of them curled up at Phil’s, working on homework before heading off to fight crime (together, for once). 
Phil being their “man in the chair” (even if he directs them to safer areas, too worried for anything more).
And of course, the best (worst?) part of being a school counselor — the actual *counseling.*
Except it’s not about what classes to take, or bullies to avoid.
It’s holding Wilbur as he sobs after killing his first villain to protect his brothers. (Because that’s what they are, now). 
It’s comforting Techno as he fails his first class, too busy with heroics to focus or study. 
It’s reassuring Tommy when his brothers get hurt, always ready to defend their youngest.
And it’s crying like a father when they graduate.
It’s *loving* them like a father, his home always open to them, filled with medical supplies and bedrooms for each kid, newpaper clippings pinned proudly on the fridge.
There’s a reason the city’s strongest trio of vigilantes always protect one specific man.
631 notes · View notes
avatar-anna · 1 year
Text
Love on Tour: The Documentary
we all know harry is working on a documentary, so this is my take on how young dad!harry would approach it!
Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe
and now a little key:
bold and italics: camera directions, or what you would be seeing as a viewer of the documentary in person
just italics: interviewer questions, or people who are speaking off camera
Part 2 Part 3
Tumblr media
Harry jogs off stage, his mask wrapped securely around his ears as he leaves the sounds of thousands of screams behind. Even so, his squinted eyes make it obvious that he’s smiling. He walks into his dressing room and shuts the door with a soft click and immediately starts to change out of his concert outfit. After shimmying into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Harry grabs his phone and sits down on the couch.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Hi, baby. How was the show?”
"Amazing. I feel like we get better with each performance."
"Aw, H. I'm so happy for you!"
Harry grins at his phone while resting his chin on his hand. "Missed seeing you. Missed seeing all of you."
"We're so proud of you, baby. No matter how far away we are," the voice on the other side of Harry's phone says. "In other news, the bub has been quite active today."
"Yeah?" Harry says, and his demeanor immediately visibly brightens. "Hope she's not giving you too much trouble."
"We don't know if it's a she, H."
"I do. I have a sixth sense for these types of things."
Cut to Harry sitting in an empty room for his interview.
“So, why did you decide to talk about all of this now?”
Harry rubs his chin as he ponders the question. “I think…I think it’s hard not to. When I think back on my career, I think about how old Simone was or how Jules had just begun walking or sneaking to a courthouse to get married. My family is a part of my life and has been a part of most of my career. My kids, my wife...they mean everything to me, and I—I know it sounds kind of crazy, but I can’t imagine my life, my career any differently. I wouldn’t want to do this without my family.”
The camera cuts to a series of home videos—Y/n and Harry sharing a kiss in a courthouse, members of One Direction celebrating around them, a toddler in Harry’s lap as he plays the piano, Y/n on a tour bus with a small bundle in her arms, Harry catching a little girl as she jumps into a pool, a little girl with dark curls playing with all members of One Direction backstage at a concert venue, Harry asleep on a hotel bed with his face covered in play makeup, a three year old sleeping next to him.
“Should we start with when you met Y/n?”
His grin is immediate. “I was seventeen years old.”
Harry’s voice becomes a voice over as clips of him and the members of One Direction film their music video for What Makes You Beautiful. 
“It sounds cheesy, but I’ve always thought it was fate that we met. Her friend was an extra in the video, and she happened to tag along. I was immediately taken with her. We got along really well and talked long after I left LA.”
The camera cuts back to Harry.
“Just talked?”
Harry blushes. “Obviously not, but I’m a gentleman. All I’ll say is, kids, understand the importance of practicing protected sex.”
A cut to a similar room where Y/n sits.
“He said that? My husband, everybody.”
Everyone behind the studio laughs with her.
“So you got pregnant.”
Y/n nods. “Oh yeah.”
“Was there ever a moment where you didn’t want to tell Harry?”
“It definitely crossed my mind. We were so young and we didn’t see each other very often in the grand scheme of things. No one ever expects something like this to happen to them, but it happened to us.”
Back to Harry.
“I was terrified. Mostly terrified to tell my mum, but it…it changed everything. Here I was thinking my life had already changed drastically with the band, and then Y/n is pregnant.”
The camera cuts to Anne’s interview.
“I mean, I think the possibility is in the back of parent’s mind,” she says, shaking her head a little. “But you raise your children to be smart and responsible and hope for the best.”
“How did that conversation go when Harry told you?”
“He was practically crying over the phone, which made me…less angry, which isn’t even the right word, I don’t think. Poor Harry was so scared, and all I kept thinking was, ‘I send my son to Hollywood and a few months later he gets some girl pregnant.’ I didn’t even know he was dating Y/n.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, so that made the whole thing even more surprising. But he kept saying, ‘Mum, she’s not just some girl. She’s really special.’ Things like that. But I won’t lie, it was a lot to digest.”
Back to Y/n.
“What was it like meeting Anne for the first time?”
“Oh God,” Y/n says. “Mortifying. I was already showing when we met, which made the whole thing that much worse. We couldn’t even pretend we were meeting under normal ‘meet your boyfriend’s mom for the first time’ circumstances. But she was really nice. She asked how I was feeling and helped me get set up with the right doctors. She made me feel welcome, which I appreciated.”
Back to Harry.
“Her parents weren’t as supportive as mine, and she was feeling kind of isolated and overwhelmed, so I convinced my mum to let Y/n live with her.”
Back to Y/n.
“You lived with Harry’s mother?”
Y/n nods and smiles at the camera. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time, and I stand by it. Things were really tense at home, and I just thought it would be a little easier going through everything with people who were completely on board.” Y/n shrugs. “I was young and scared and needed a maternal figure. I tried to think of it as going off to college.”
“But no one had a clue about any of this.”
Back to Harry.
Harry shakes his head. “My management at the time wanted to make this go away as quickly as possible. They tried to pay Y/n off so she wouldn’t contact me again or say anything about it.”
“Really?”
Back to Y/n.
“Yeah, but I told them to shove their offer up their asses. It wasn’t nearly as much as I would’ve gotten from child support, first of all.”
“Did you ever consider taking the offer?”
“Of course I did. I had to consider all my options.” Y/n is quiet for a moment and doesn’t look at the camera. “I eventually decided to stay with Harry and have the baby, but, you know, I had my whole life ahead of me. Both of us did.”
Back to Harry.
“Did you know about that?”
“The payoff? Yeah, she told me shortly after. As for the other stuff…I knew. And I would’ve respected whatever decision she made. But when she decided to keep the baby and keep me in her life, I told management they would have to figure something else out, and keeping her and the pregnancy was their solution.”
“What was it like to be in One Direction while having a baby at home?”
“Strange,” Harry says. “Like, some of the best moments of my life were in the band, but then I would get a text from Y/n and it would be a picture of Simone in the bathtub covered in bubbles, and I would want to be there all of a sudden.”
A series of videos and photographs of Harry and Y/n in 2012 appear. In hotel rooms, backstage at One Direction concerts, homes. With each image, Y/n’s baby bump grows.
(Voiceover) “It was this weird mix of having so much fun and feeling bad when I realized Y/n was at home by herself with a newborn. She’s never blamed me or never asked me to stop what I was doing, but this tiny seed of guilt was always in the back of my mind.
A video of a young Harry and Y/n appears. They seem to be in a dressing room. Y/n lays against Harry while his hand rests on her baby bump. Y/n looks up at Harry and smiles, and he smiles back before he looks up and realizes they’re being filmed. “Oi! Get out of here, Louis!” Louis laughs from behind the camera and says, “You’ll thank me later!”
“We were faced with a lot of decisions, none of them easy. And sneaking around had its drawbacks, especially when my management team wanted me to start doing all the fake dating and stuff.”
Harry stops talking, as if recalling a memory, but he doesn’t share it. “But one thing was easy at least. When we first met, we bonded over our love for Nina Simone. When Y/n suggested it, it just sounded right.”
Back to Harry in his dressing room.
“How is everyone?” he asks Y/n over the phone.
“I have four little monkeys that should be asleep, but they wanted to say goodnight first.”
Harry’s grin widens as a chorus of hellos echoes from his phone. From a different angle over his shoulder, four faces can be seen on his screen. “Hi, hi, hi, hi. Are you all being good for your mumma?”
“Dada!”
“Where are you?”
“How was the show?”
“Hi my loves. The show went really, really great. I miss you all so much,” Harry says.
“When are you coming home, Dada?”
“Soon, Maeve, I promise. Just a couple more nights and I’ll be home.”
“Can we get ice cream when you come home?”
Harry laughs. “Yes, peanut, we can get ice cream. Now go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime.”
There’s lots of protesting from the four children on the phone, but one voice pipes up above the rest. “Can you sing us a song?”
“Of course, JuJu. How could I forget? What would you like?”
Back to Harry’s interview.
“So, how many kids do you have now?”
“I am a proud father of six. Five girls, one boy, one set of twins.”
“Full house then.”
Harry nods and makes a mock-exasperated sigh. “Oh yeah.”
“What’s that like?”
“There’s never a dull moment, that’s for sure. Y/n’s the real marvel, though. I don’t know how she does it.”
Back to Y/n.
“I’m not gonna lie, there are times where I don’t even feel like a person, but Harry works just as hard to give our family the life we have. And he’s an incredible dad. He’ll come home from tour, clearly exhausted, and he’ll still be the first one out of bed to get the kids ready for school and make breakfast and change diapers. I mean, the man doesn’t stop.”
“You’re a team, then.”
Y/n smiles. “Yeah. We’re a team. All eight of us.”
“Did you see yourself ever having six kids?”
“I mean...technically we were supposed to stop at four.”
“So what happened?”
Y/n sighs and shakes her head exasperatedly. “The pandemic happened.”
A home video begins to play in the Styles’ living room. Harry is filming and Y/n is in front of it with her hands behind her back.
“Alright. Tell me why the camera’s out, Mama. Where are the kids?”
“They’re building a pillow fort for us in our room, but first…I  have a surprise for you.”
Y/n leans past the camera to give him a small gift bag. Crinkling is heard as Harry pulls tissue paper out of the bag. “Are you serious?”
Y/n nods, a large grin on her face. “I’m about six weeks along.”
Harry laughs, and the camera wobbles as he rushes over to Y/n to pick her up. Their giggles and cheers of excitement can be heard offscreen.
“We’re having a baby!” Harry says.
Back to Harry.
“Are you gonna go for lucky number seven?”
Harry scratches the back of his head. “Currently up for debate. The missus is apprehensive, but I think I’m wearing her down.
Back to Y/n
Y/n scoffs and shakes her head. “He can keep on dreaming.”
“So you’ve had this discussion before?”
“It’s…been mentioned once or twice. But any time he brings it up I threaten him with no sex for two weeks. Am I allowed to say that?”
Back to Harry.
Harry opens his mouth to speak when a small hand tugs on his shirt. Looking down, he smiles. Harry bends down and picks up a little girl. For privacy reasons, her face is blurred. She wraps her arms around his neck so she’s in his lap and her back is facing the camera.
“I’m hungry,” the little girl says in what can only be described as a “monster voice.”
Matching her tone, Harry asks, “What would you like, GiGi?”
“Grilled cheese.”
Harry shakes his head and kisses GiGi’s temple. He covers the microphone clipped on his shirt so he can talk to his daughter privately. With another kiss, he lets go of the mic. “You got it.” Harry shrugs at the camera with a smile. To the camera, he says, “Can we finish this later? Duty calls.”
2K notes · View notes
steviewashere · 1 month
Text
Dream Come True
Rating: General CW: Minor internalized ableism on Steve's end Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Adopting a Child, Parenthood, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Let Them Live a Quiet Life God Damn It, Mild Hurt/Comfort
For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is about healing each other's wounds."
💕—————💕
They haven’t discussed children since the second month they were together. Was that probably a little too early in their relationship? Probably—Eddie will be brave enough to admit that right now. But, considering where they’re at now: Steve is forty-seven and Eddie’s forty-eight, their wedding bands are simple and gold (something easily spotted amongst the silver ones that Eddie still wears), the house they took a loan out for is painted yellow with white shutters installed (well, they paid Dustin and Will to do it. They were happy to help), they live in Massachusetts away from public eye, and though they don’t have a dog—not yet, the service dog process has been a long and weary one on Steve’s end—they have their little brown tabby cat. They’ve got a well furnished home. And years of love between them.
Nearly twenty-eight years in total. Nineteen years wedded. Six years of that are legally recognized. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is they stopped talking about the prospect of having kids.
Eddie’s initial answer at the beginning was, “Maybe. I think it would be neat. But, I’m gay, Steve. That isn’t really a possibility.” He chuckled a little bit. “I meant like adopting, but in a technical sense—Considering what’s in my pants, the possibility is still out the window.”
Steve’s was changed from what he told Nancy in that Winnebago. “I still want children. Or, just one. I want a quiet life. Even if you make it as some big rock star, I want a quiet private life.”
It was doable. What Steve had whispered on Eddie’s shoulder, that was doable. The question for years though was, When does he want that? And also, When will he leave to pursue that?
The answer was clear. Steve was never going to pursue that. That, sure, they’d have the quiet life. But never have children. And Eddie saw him wilt a little further and further. When they passed by the playground at the park. The daycare up the street from their home. After the seizure diagnosis, Steve stopped looking and thinking about it all together. It hurt Eddie’s heart.
He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.
——— Steve comes home from his Wednesday teaching shift around four in the evening. Eddie’s already on the couch, combing Poncho’s fur, watching the local news. He’s got a very important print out laid neatly on the coffee table. He hears Steve set down his briefcase on the dining table, his footsteps retreating to their kitchen to rinse out his thermos, coming back to the front door and placing his loafers on the shoe rack, and he hangs up his coat. Then, he enters the living room, hands scrambling to undo his tie, body leaning over the arm of the couch to press a kiss against Eddie’s mouth.
But then he pulls away, turning his whole body to watch the news. And that’s when he spots it. The flyer. He shuffles over on his mismatched socked feet, hands falling away from the collar of his dress shirt. He swipes up the paper. Behind his glasses, he squints.
It’s advertisement for the adoption agency some forty minutes out. Eddie hopes, by everything, that this will heal the pain in his own chest, and the emotional line of thinking in Steve’s brain. Hopes with everything that his body can physically give.
“What’s this about?” Steve asks. His voice is neutral. Almost…dare Eddie say, steely. Okay, maybe he made the wrong move. “We haven’t even—“
“I know,” Eddie immediately says. “I know we haven’t talked about it. But, sweetheart, just listen to me, alright?” At Steve’s confused and hesitant nod, Eddie tries to arrange his words. “This is something you’ve been wanting since forever ago. And I know that I haven’t really voiced my wants on it. But I also thought that it would never happen.
“That it would never be something people like me—“ He raises his eyebrows and points to the keyring attached to Steve’s belt loop. The short rainbow garland that sits discreetly among his keys. “—Would ever get the chance to do. But I—Steve, god, I want it so bad. I want to be able to be a dad and chase around a kiddo of our own while you’re busy at work. I want to see one off for school for their first day and cry like I’ll never see them again. Wanna make them a lunch they can bring to school, the same time that I make your lunch for your school. I want to watch them grow up with your goofy dancing skills and our combined love for music. And I—I want to be a better parent that I could’ve ever imagined.
“I want it with you,” Eddie breathes. “I want all of that with you. And I know that you still want it. Your forlorn looks at couples with babies. Every time you see Lucas and Max and their spitfire teenager, your eyes get this brightness to them that I—I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen you happy like that since we got married.” He swallows at some of the implications there. And it’s not meant to be accusatory, but gosh does Eddie notice. The way his sunflower wilts. “This is just something for you to think about, okay? I know my decision on it. But think about it.”
Steve’s grip on the paper trembles. And his eyes are searing Eddie in a way that melts him. Blazing with adoration and love. “You want that?” He shakily asks. “You want to raise a kid with me?”
Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. I really, really, really do.”
“Even though…Even though I have seizures that could scare them shitless? And I get so angry some days that all I can do is hide in our bedroom and cry? And I—You want that with somebody like me?” He hesitates to ask again. Eddie doesn’t answer, but his arms open in comfort and his eyes soften with earnest. Steve doesn’t move from his spot, though. He looks back at the paper. “What’s the—Our first step?”
“We apply. And they determine if we’re worthy and that it’ll be safe,” Eddie answers. “If they see us fit, they’ll look at our house and things like that. We’ll come back to that later on. If that’s something you still want.”
“Okay,” Steve states with fervor. “Let’s do this.”
——— After a tedious process, Eddie realizes how correct he was.
It’s a Saturday. The curtains are open. Dinner is simmering on the stovetop. And Eddie stirs the soup while he listens in on Steve’s activity in the living room.
“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve is cooing. “Good job, Carmen. Look at you.” He’s been supervising her tummy time everyday he’s able to. Loves being able to lay on his back on the floor, eyes watching their daughter, his fingers combing through her hair as she uses her wide brown eyes to wonder about the world around her.
Eddie bites back a smile.
“That’s Poncho,” Steve is saying. He’s introducing them like they’re all acquaintances around a water cooler. Eddie, maybe, snickers a little bit behind his hand. “He’s gonna be your buddy. He likes the space between his shoulder blades scratched. Just like you, huh?” And hears the moment that Steve dully traces his fingernails on Carmen’s back. She gurgles a little excited babbling. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve murmurs. “Daddy likes that, too.” He’s talking about himself. Because he practically fought tooth and nail for that title. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.
From the kitchen archway, Eddie surveys the display on the living room floor. And Steve’s on his back in his pajamas. Glasses smooshed awkwardly up his face as his cheek is pressed against the carpet, eyes gone soft and glistening while Carmen is on her belly. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, squeezing at the soft toys they had gotten. He’s brushing his fingers through her short, curly wisps of brown hair. Then, his hand travels back down to massage and scratch at her back again. She’s wearing a pink striped onesie and a pair of white socks on her little feet.
He clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up at him, softly smiling. “I reckon things are going good in here?” Steve only nods, too enamored with petting at Carmen’s back. Eddie finally smiles at him. “Good,” he whispers. He leans his weight on the doorway. A dish rag thrown over his shoulder, arms crossed low over his belly, hair thrown up in a loose bun on his head. Domestic life has really begun to suit him, if he’s honest. He finds himself at ease about it now.
As he turns back to the kitchen, to serve up their bowls of soup, Steve calls his name. He immediately turns back around. Greeted with his husband’s soft face, his deepened smile lines, his messy hair spread on the carpet. He’s more youthful than ever, fatherhood has changed him for the better, at least Eddie thinks so. He hums to see what Steve needs, because by god, he’ll do anything for him.
“Thank you,” Steve whispers.
“For what?”
“Making my hurt go away,” Steve says. But Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. And Steve clarifies, “Allowing me to accomplish my final dream. I’m really happy that it’s with you.”
Eddie crosses into the living room, crouching down to kiss Steve’s forehead, pecking Carmen’s soft head, too. He combs his own fingers through Steve’s hair. Smiling at the way he keens. “You made me believe that I could be a good dad,” he admits. “I can’t wait to do this right.”
Steve brings a hand to Eddie’s cheek. His index finger softly tracing down the side of his face. “Love you,” he murmurs.
Turning his face, Eddie kisses the tip of Steve’s finger. “Love you, too,” Eddie easily says in return.
Sure, he got to be a rockstar, but he thinks that this life—Steve soft and middle aged and smiling at him, petting down their daughter’s back, cooing soft as if he’s not almost fifty—is much better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed. Maybe filling the hole in Steve’s soul, the remedy that their daughter brings—Maybe that heals something for Eddie, too.
💕—————💕
180 notes · View notes
1d1195 · 8 months
Text
Faking It
Sometimes while I'm listening to music, things just pop into my head about Harry and I have to write it out real fast before I forget. This is just a little random blurb that I’m posting for no reason.
best friend/roommate!reader x famous!Harry
Warnings: sexual tension, sexual wording
Not proofread (written in my drafts on my phone)
Harry is watching her dance her little heart out to whatever is playing in her ears while she aggressively folds the sheets and towels out of the dryer. He can hear the music playing from where he's standing in the kitchen getting a glass of water. They've been best friends for years and since Harry is often on tour, it's nice to have someone keep an eye on his place, water the flowers, and just...be there when he gets home or shoots home during one of his quick breaks.
She's funny and lovely. One of his favorite people. She doesn't mind acting silly around him and doesn't care if he never cleans up when he's home. "I just like when my best friend is here," she says.
"What are y'even listening to?" She turns down the music so she can hear him.
"It's called Little White Lies, it's by this great band. M'sure you've heard of them: One Direction?" She has the most impish smile on her lips.
He stares at her and blinks slowly. He hates when she does this. It's so annoying. But he finds her adorable anyway. It's been a while since he's been home and he likes seeing her in her element. As if he weren't here. He likes that she's comfortable with him. It feels...like home.
But then, since she's his best friend, she has to go and ruin it.
She shrugs. "Y'know, Harry. Bet you would get a nice girlfriend if they knew they didn't have to fake orgasms around you all the time," she winked at him pushing the laundry basket toward the hallway to the bedrooms before she starts in on the second load of clothing.
He doesn't want to know. If he asks, he'll regret it. "What are y'on 'bout?" He tilted his head back. It was one of those conversations he knew he was going to be exhausted by before it even started.
"When she's alone she goes home to a cactus. In a black dress, she's such an actress?" She quoted his own lyrics to him but phrased it as a question. "Such an actress?" She repeated. "Too bad Harry," she tisks. "You even gotta talk about a dildo being a cactus...like one of the rabbit ones,” she giggled.
Harry wonders if he strangles her if they'll question him first. He's a popstar after all. "M'gonna kill you," he says darting toward her around the half kitchen wall to tickle her. She squeals and takes off to the other side of the room, hiding behind the couch.
"Cause you've been telling me, all night with your little white lies."
"Nobody fakes orgasms with me," he grumbled. "Liam and Louis wrote that song."
She smirked. "Sensitive. I don't mean anything by it," she giggles. "Just think it's funny."
"I'll prove it," he says hopping on the couch and reaching over to grab her before she can escape. She squeals at his aggressive hold as he tosses her down (gently) onto the sofa. "Take y'pants off," he orders.
"Harry," she gasps, face blushing. The headphones fall from her ears, her phone drops to the floor.
"Take 'em off," he repeats. "You'll see."
"Harry," she whispers breathlessly. "I was just kidding."
But his eyes are hungry now. He's looking her over if he's just noticing that she's a girl. A beautiful, adorable, pain-in-the-butt, girl. His best friend that he adores with all his heart. "M'not," his voice is low. Her heart hammers erratically against her ribs.
She can't say she hasn't been dreaming of this. She wants this. She doesn't believe she'll have to fake it. But she doesn't want to force him to do it to prove a point. "Harry," she tries again, but her voice is weak. The protest is faint in her voice. "You don't have--"
"Bet y'have t'fake it all the time, hmm?" He's hovering above her. His legs straddling her hips, his arms pinning her shoulders down. She can't move her gaze from his. She's immobile. He drops his mouth to her ear. "Don't you?" He murmurs so lowly it vibrates all through her body. Right to the space between her thighs. “Bet y'dream about me when m'not here. When you're with someone else,” his lips brush the pulse along the side of her neck. He kisses the space at the bottom of her throat. "I dream about you when m’alone,” her brain is spinning to keep up. She was just joking him. He was too brave to admit that. She’s terrified she’s going to mess up. But he’s inhaling her skin like he’s sniffing out a weakness. Her whole body is one weak spot for him. “S'that why y'like it so much?" He mumbles. "S'that why y'like m'song. Because you're an actress for everyone else? You're not gonna be an actress for me, right? You're gonna be a good girl and not tell me any little white lies?" He asks it as a question, but she knows it's a statement.
"Harry," it was her last chance to protest.
“No, love. M’sure,” he promise sensing the question in just the way she uttered his name. Maybe the benefit to being her best friend he knew what she was thinking. Always. “Jus’ say the word, love,” his lips are a breath away. If she inhales too deeply or exhales at all she’ll be kissing Harry Styles. “Do y’want me t’prove it?”
His eyes are so green his skin smells so good. She can’t breathe or move.
“Yes.”
966 notes · View notes
gurugirl · 9 months
Text
A Balancing Act | Ch. 3*
Tumblr media
Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.
Chapter Summary: Y/n has some explaining to do and Harry wants to show her exactly what he likes.
Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom & sub dynamics (with use of implements), angst (light), mentions of death.
Word Count: 12,003
Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)
A Balancing Act Masterlist
“She was married,” Harry started off their session before Pat even had a chance to sit in her usual spot.
“Who? Y/n?”
Harry nodded and sighed, “Yeah. She never told me. She’s not married now. Well, he died actually. Health condition. But I was… I just didn’t expect it. I mean…” he shook his head and crossed a leg over his knee, “I was surprised. Like… it’s a lot. You know? And it’s selfish of me to think this way but how can I be better than someone she loved enough to marry? And now he’s just gone and it’s not because he did anything wrong. She still loves him. It’s been a few years since he passed but she has this big wedding photo framed in her living room. That’s how I found out.”
Pat listened closely as Harry talked about how it made him feel. He’d gotten very good at being able to describe his feelings and was comfortable enough to verbalize them to Pat.
“So when you saw the photo what happened? I’m assuming you were at her home? You said it was in her living room.”
Harry looked up at Pat, “Oh yeah. I uh… went to visit her. We kind of had a rough go. She did find out about the girl I kissed so I flew out to see her. She was on a date and I… well I went to where they were and saw them and then-“
“Harry Styles! You did not!” Pat lambasted.
Harry gulped as he nodded, “I know. It was a questionable move. Quite immature of me, but she knows that it’s us. There’s no one else that she can connect with this way. She wound up leaving with me anyway so-“
“I’m gonna interrupt you again because I’m shocked! That is kind of the opposite of how you should have gone about seeing her again, Harry. Are you two still seeing one another? Talking?”
“Yeah, we are. She wound up telling me she liked me more anyway. It worked out. I know I shouldn’t have done it that way but it’s already done.”
“And here I thought you wanted to talk about how she’d kept a big secret from you. How you were hurt by it and how it made you feel. But having you go and intercept her during a date? She should have told you off, had you go back home. And you’re right. That was very immature. Feels like a step backward from all the work you’ve put in. You’re really good at making things happen and getting what you want,” she emphasized as Harry sighed and shook his head, “but sometimes it’s not healthy. What you did was very coercive. You can’t force your will on everyone, Harry.”
“I know. I told you I’m selfish. I don’t know why I did it. I just feel like she and I are really good for each other. I needed to make a move. Do something dramatic to prove it to her. Especially after she learned about the kiss.”
“And how did she take that news when you told her?”
Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and looked down at his hands.
“You were the one to bring her the information, correct?”
He shook his head, “She saw it in some gossip article.”
“And she still welcomed you and even left her date for you? Maybe you should have her come see me too. Sounds like you both could use some emotional support and therapy.”
Harry grinned and gave Pat his sweet puppy dog eyes, “Maybe. Perhaps I can convince her to move in with me and you can see us both.”
“Okay. I think you’re moving too fast here.”
“I don’t. I’ve never felt this way before, Pat! I know it’s insane but I’m not kidding you when I tell you that she’s really good for me. I’m good for her too. Like… I’d marry her tomorrow if I could. I’m so down to just be with her.”
The therapist nodded, “So, you’re not actually bothered by the fact that she has a dead husband?”
Harry put his leg down and leaned back into his chair, “No. I am upset. Not at her because I understand why she didn’t tell me. It doesn’t make me not want to be with her. It’s just something to contend with is all. It was a shock.”
“I bet. So you really feel very deeply for her then? And she feels the same?”
“I think she does. Asked her to be my girlfriend before I left Chicago too. I know it’s fast but she’s incredible.”
“Girlfriend, huh? That’s kind of a big step.”
“I know. I’m just… I think I love her. I can’t get enough of her. I’ve never felt like this.”
“I feel like you’ve fed me those same lines before.”
Harry shook his head and looked up at Pat, “No. I swear. This time is different. I know I can’t convince you of that but it is. I love to fall in love but with Y/n it’s like life. A gift.”
Pat sighed and put her notebook down. She could see that Harry was very excited about Y/n. That he did what he thought he needed to. And while she was used to his occasional antics of forcing his hand to get his way and the way he fell in love too fast; she could see that this was indeed a little different. Even with months apart he still went after her. He still seemed to be just as excited about her.
“I see that. I’m happy for you, Harry. So what are your plans with her for when you leave for Europe in two weeks? You’ll be gone for nearly two months again. How do you intend to maintain the relationship when you’re going to be apart for so long?”
.        .        .
One week earlier
Her heart dropped when she realized what he was looking at. She hadn’t planned on telling him this way. She had planned on telling him at some point. But it was always a strange thing to bring up to people who didn’t already know about her past.
Robert was a great guy. She met him in college when she was dating around. They had a few dates but then broke up and they both dated other people but remained friends for a couple of years. Until one day he told her he didn’t like her seeing other people. That it made him jealous. She hadn’t realized.
And she hadn’t really been jealous when he was going on dates with other women. But the notion that there was a man, who was her friend, that was jealous of her going on dates, wanted her, felt this way about her… well it was quite flattering and unexpected. And the rest is history.
They got married and bought the house she currently lived in. He was a high school teacher. A genuinely nice man. A bit of a homebody at times, but she loved him with all of her heart. After they’d been married for a year he was diagnosed with having Wilson’s Disease. He was born with it (which no one knew) but only ever started showing symptoms at age 25. And by then it was too late. He was already having some major health issues. His liver was failing.
Y/N knew something was wrong when he was slurring his speech badly one evening and they had only been drinking water. And then the following day he was still slurring and he called off work because he was too tired to get out of bed. So she booked a doctor’s appointment for him and after nearly a month of running tests, one doctor suggested a urine sample, and the labs came back the following day with high levels of copper. Which indicated cirrhosis of the liver, which then pointed to Wilson’s disease.
And only six months after his diagnosis, he was gone.
She and Harry sat on her couch and she told him everything. Harry was stunned. He didn’t even know she’d been married before. But to know her husband had died? And she did admit that she still loved him. But of course, she did. Harry didn’t know how he could compete with such a thing.
“Well… I guess that kind of killed the mood. Didn’t it?” She looked at Harry who had been pretty quiet throughout her confession.
“It’s just sobering,” he looked at her as he spoke, “but, maybe we could order something in to eat? Some wine? Talk some more?”
“Harry, you don’t have to sit here and listen to me talk about my dead husband. If you want to go you can. It’s okay. Really.”
Harry scrunched his brows together and pulled her hands into his, “That’s not… Do you still want me here?”
“Well, yeah. I mean I’ve come to terms with all of this already. I just know when I talk about it to people who don’t already know they always pity me and it changes everything. So, I’m just giving you an out.”
Harry cleared his throat and slowly dragged his thumbs over her knuckles, “I don’t want an out. I want to spend time with you. Maybe we can eat, though. Kind of let this idea settle a bit and then drink some wine and put a movie on. See where the night takes us.”
And so that’s just what they did. Y/n hadn’t eaten anything because she had left the restaurant with Harry before dinner was served. And Harry hadn’t eaten either. So it was actually a perfect idea.
They talked more. Harry was practically glued to her side. Holding her hand, keeping her glass of wine filled, watching her closely, brushing his fingers down her arms. They watched a movie and Harry pulled her into his chest as they lay together on her couch.
But after about thirty minutes of having Harry’s chest pressed into her back, she felt something hard and stiff tucked into her bottom. She hadn’t taken off the dress she wore on her date and Harry wasn’t watching the movie at all. He was looking down over her pretty profile, her hips, her bum…
When she felt his lips graze over the back of her ear she realized he wasn’t actually totally turned off about hearing of her past. In fact, he was very clearly aroused. Closing her eyes she let him gently press kisses down her neck and allowed him to pull her into him tighter, grinding his hips into her plush bottom and she was relieved he still wanted her at all.
At first, she thought that he was just being sweet. Because he was a sweet guy. Maybe he felt bad for her and didn’t want to make her feel bad so he stayed. But now? Well, she was quite excited by his sudden change in demeanor back to what it had been before they’d walked into her house.
Harry’s hand smoothed down her hip to her thigh and stopped at the hem of her dress before he began pushing the material upward, “Is this okay?” He whispered against her skin.
Y/n nodded and put her hand over his, assisting him in pushing her dress up, “Yes.”
That was all he needed to have them both return to the state they’d been in before he saw the framed photo of her on her wedding day.
“Good. Then let’s turn this terrible movie off and get you naked.”
She remembered him telling her he’d brought some things. But what his small suitcase revealed was not expected, a vibrating wand, black bondage tape, 2 sets of cuffs, and various sizes of clamps. And a bottle of lube.
Harry explained everything to her as he kissed her gently and removed her clothes, “We don’t have to use any of this. But I thought it would be fun to try. I think you’ll like some of these. Have you ever been tied up?”
Y/n shook her head as she ran her fingers over the smooth tape, “No. How does this work?”
He plucked the roll from her hand and began to unwind the tape as he spoke, “This won’t stick to your skin, it only sticks to itself. But it’ll work nicely to bind you. It’s not as harsh as rope and it’s easy to come off.”
When he pulled the wand out of the little cloth bag it was in he handed it to her, “Lie flat and put this over yourself. Place it where it feels the best and whatever setting you like the most.”
Harry was slowly getting into his dom mode and Y/n could see it. He started off gently and slowly. Lots of kissing, touching, talking… he had her feeling comfortable and she trusted him. The way he slowly kissed her arms and her tits, lowering his wet lips to the heavy underside of her breasts and squeezing her nipples as he dipped over her tummy and praised her, “Fucking gorgeous. Hard to believe I got so lucky.”
But when he told her to lie flat on the bed something had shifted into a different gear. It was a minute transition but it was noticeable. He unwound the tape as he watched her do as she was told.
She was completely naked while he was still dressed, which made her feel very vulnerable, exposed. She clicked the wand on to its low setting and placed the head in a spot she knew she’d like. It did feel good. She was already a bit wet from the kissing and the gentle touches but it didn’t take long for her to begin seeping and coating the vibrating silicone bulb that was pressed against her.
Harry kneed up to the bed and pushed her thighs further apart so he could see her better, “Because you’re new to this you probably don’t have any kind of safe word in mind yet. So if you don’t like anything, just tell me. Say stop and I will. If you like all this we can think of something to use in lieu of just stop. But for now, we’re not going to get too much into that kind of roleplay so no or stop will work.”
He wanted to show her the things he liked. These were all easy introductions into the way he liked to play and if they were going to be seeing one another more he felt it was good to start her out like this. Give her a slow, soft launch so she could explore the things she liked too. He’d move it up a notch later on. For now, the debut into dom and sub-dynamics would be very delicate because she had never played this way. Eventually, they’d both learn what she liked together, that is if she wanted to stick around.
She nodded and Harry leaned over her and took the wand from her hand, “Arms over your head,” she quickly moved her arms upward as he positioned the wand against her clit and used the bondage tape to secure it in place, wrapping the tape around the handle to the top of her thigh and keeping the vibrating bulb at her pussy to give her just enough stimulation.
He climbed up and pushed her over to her tummy, the wand still working its magic, and pulled her hands behind her back, “I’m going to bind your wrists together like this,” he showed her the position and paused to make sure she didn’t have any objections, “and then,” he pushed her legs up by their shins, her ankles and feet up, thighs down, “use the tape to bind your ankles too. Is this okay with you?”
She nodded, “Yes.”
“Ah ah ah… Yes who?” He chided.
She bit her lip and smiled, “Yes, Daddy.”
Harry gave her a swat to her bottom, “There you go. I’ll give you one pass. If you forget to address me properly again we’ll take a break while I spank your bottom red.”
Her bottom stung from the one swat and she nodded, mostly to herself as he explained the rules. She couldn’t see the work he was doing because he was behind her but she could feel his hands on her skin and smooth tape wrapping around and between her wrists. It was gentle and he was right. The tape wasn’t sticky on her skin so it wasn’t pulling the fine hairs she had on her arms, which she was thankful for.
Then he used the tape on her ankles, securing them together in much the same way he did her wrists, around and in between. Meanwhile, the wand was still vibrating against her pussy and causing her heart to race. She didn’t know what to expect but this was quite exhilarating. Exciting. Harry was exciting.
“So pretty. Goddamn,” he said as he let his hands roam over her thighs and her bottom. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh and then smoothed his hands up to her low back before he moved his warm lips to the small of her back. She felt his hair ghost along her spine as he kissed his way up to her neck.
“How do you feel?” Harry’s voice was strained as he spoke.
“I’m good. Feels really good so far.” And it did. She wasn’t just saying it to appease him either. She loved this more than she could understand. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever delved into before. She hadn’t realized the way it would make her feel. She was a little nervous about her body on display for him in this way. She was chubby and this was quite the compromising position to be in when Harry Styles, with his very fit body, was in the room and inspecting all of her nooks and crannies. But there was something about being exposed to him this way, unable to move from being tied up, totally naked with all her parts available to him to see and touch that sent her adrenaline to spike.
She felt him push her ankles flat to the bed and then pull her up at her hips, causing her knees to dig into the mattress until her body was upright with her back into his chest. He stayed behind her bringing his hands up to her breasts and began palming over each, “How sensitive are your breasts? Do you play with them when you masturbate?”
Her brain was having a hard time focusing with the way he was touching her and speaking but she swallowed and closed her eyes to answer, “Uh… I think they’re pretty sensitive. Sometimes I squeeze them to make my nipples hard, but not all the time.”
Boobs weren’t really much of a part of sex for her. When Robert was alive he enjoyed them a lot. But to her, she could take it but mostly would have preferred to leave it. Because her nipples were quite sensitive and sometimes the stimulation was too much. So she generally would gently brush over her bud and work them up to get hard as she looked in the mirror. If she felt like playing with them. Which she usually didn’t.
“Let’s see what you like. Okay?” He continued squeezing and massaging the flesh, his thumbs focusing on her nipples, his lips on her neck causing her to keen and pitch her head to the side.
“Your nipples need some attention, Y/n. I can tell you’re very tender here,” he lightly pinched each nipple and she gasped, “See? We’ll take it easy. Work you up to something a little more stimulating.”
The sensation of the slow squeezing and soft pinches at her nipples was leveled out by the way he kissed at her neck and sucked her skin into his mouth, nipping very gently. Not to mention the vibrator taped into place and pressed to her pussy. Now, the way it was attached it wasn’t over her clit (thankfully she figured) but it was pulsating an inch below the spot that would have her losing it. The vibrations were strong enough that her whole core was feeling it, though, and she imagined it had been placed purposely in just that spot with the intent that she would slowly lose her mind until she was begging and aching for more.
So, yeah, everything he was doing was feeling really good. Having her nipples toyed with was even nice. The varying sensual touches were unexpected but quite welcomed. His whispered words were sweet and dirty.
“Oh baby, you are gonna be so ready for my cock when I’m done with you. Aren’t you?”
She nodded and her answer came out in a whine, “Yes.”
Harry chuckled and nosed at her ear, “Got the front of my trousers all wet. Would you like a taste of what your pussy is dripping?”
Another first… in bed with a man. She’d tasted herself out of curiosity a couple of times but never in front of anyone. She’d already gotten into it this far, she figured tasting herself would be fine so she nodded.
Harry removed a palm from her right breast and drew his fingers through her slippery cunt, spreading her labia and lathering his fingers in her before grasping her chin with his other hand and tilting her head back so he could watch as he stuffed his drenched fingers into her mouth.
She closed her eyes as his fingers dragged over her tongue and his knuckles rubbed at the roof of her mouth. She was just as she’d tasted before. It wasn’t a surprise but the gesture, the way it was happening, being held and tied and taken care of… it was hot.
“You taste so good, Y/n. Needed to share it with you. Let you taste first. Before I have my turn.”
Harry pulled his fingers from her lips and then brought his hands back down to her breasts and this time his mouth caught hers, keeping her head turned so he could have access, as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. She whimpered into his mouth and couldn’t believe how pathetic she sounded.
Slowly, he released her chin as he pushed her to bend at the waist with her ass in the air, face smushed into her mattress.
Harry groaned as he put his big palms over her round-as-a-plum bottom and squeezed. Her bum was his favorite. He’d never seen one so perfect. Her thick tush and soft thighs were beckoning to him. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her when they first met in fact. And now here he was getting to touch it and smack it.
But before he could get to the piece de resistance he leaned in and licked over her glistening crease. She gasped as she jerked her body, not expecting a tongue to be gliding through her needy slit but that didn’t deter him. It only made him go in harder, lapping at her and moaning as he pressed in harder, the tip of his nose pressing into her anus as the vibrator was set as close to her clit as it could get.
She wanted to grab onto something but was unable to with her hands tied behind her back. Her face was smushed into the mattress as he ate her out from behind. Another thing she’d never been on the receiving end of. Being eaten out from behind with her bum hole exposed and a nose nudging into her. Probably smelling all of her.
“Harry!” She shrieked when he sucked her clit into his mouth and pushed two fingers in as far as they’d reach.
Harry chuckled as he kissed her pussy and moved away to speak, “Do I need to spank you? I really would prefer you to address me properly when we’re playing.”
She panted and squeezed her eyes closed as he continued fingering her, “Fuck… Daddy. Sorry.” It was hard for her to remember all the rules and calling anyone Daddy in this setting was foreign to her.
Harry got back to lapping at her leisurely. He could feel the vibrations from the wand making her labia buzz softly against his lips and his fingers.
He felt his cock digging into the inside of his zipper and it hurt. He needed to let the beast out for relief so he reluctantly backed away and undid his pants, pulling his cock out. He pressed himself to her entrance, letting the underside of his bare cock lather in her wetness.
She felt how warm he was as he let himself slide through her pussylips slowly. The vibrator was putting her on edge fast, “Please! Fuck me, Daddy…” she groaned lowly and Harry hissed when she backed herself toward him, his tip nearly getting swallowed by her drippy pussy.
“Yeah? Need Daddy’s cock? Which hole do you want it in?”
This had her suddenly caught off guard. She assumed something else but when his tip was pressed at her other hole she wasn’t sure how to respond.
Harry noticed her silence but wasn’t deterred, “It’s okay if you don’t want to try. But I think you’ll like it. I can start off using my fingers like last time, fuck your pussy for a bit and then let you decide if you think you want it.”
“Yeah. Okay. Let’s try that first,” her words were mumbled with the way her cheek was smashed into the bed.
He was prepared with a bottle of lube next to him and he squirted a healthy dollop over her bum, pressing the slick liquid into her hole gently with one finger. His thick tip was positioned at her desperate little pussy hole and he sighed at the view. One of his fingers taking up space in her bum and his cock ready to push its way inside, “Shit, baby. I have to grab a condom,” he spoke lowly as he toyed with her opening a little more, tempting fate and allowing the smallest bit of his cock to press into her cunt.
“No! Please, Daddy… just like this. Just fuck me. Please,” she was nearly shaking as she felt his smooth crown dipping into her. She wanted him bare. Wanted to feel him rigid and unsheathed inside of her.
Harry pulled in a deep breath and moaned. It was music to his ears. He hadn’t wanted a condom with her. He was desperate to push inside without any barriers and she was giving him permission.
Plunging in the smallest bit before pulling back out, his tip was coated in her arousal, “Yeah? You want Daddy’s cock raw, baby? Want me to fill you up now? Fuck you like I was meant to?”
She tried to push herself back onto him with the bit of movement she was able to conjure and she moaned when she felt him pushing into her, but this time, he didn’t pull out as he slid his second finger into her ass and plunged his wide cock into her pussy, spreading her apart, he groaned at how absolutely sopping she was already.
Much like the first time he fingered her ass and fucked her, the tension and the tight feeling were the same, but it felt good, the pleasure blossomed and felt heavy, thick, tangible. It was as if something inside of her was becoming unfastened. But unlike last time she had a vibrating wand sending shockwaves over her body leaving goosebumps under Harry’s hand when he touched her skin.
Oh, and she was bound by her wrists and ankle so there was that too.
Harry pressed into her until his balls were flush against her body and the vibrations of the wand were making his insides nearly burst. He didn’t want to come too fast, but he had been on edge for over an hour. An hour of torture. Beginning with their steakhouse restaurant bathroom antics, to the way she licked and sucked him in the car ride and until now. And not having a condom on was going to be something to contend with. The condom helped to decrease the delicious sensations he was currently feeling with her warm, wet walls squeezing around him tightly.
Harry slowly moved out and back in, watching his prick as her pussy gripped him and sucked him in, glazing his cock in her cream, dampening his pubic hair at his base.
Y/n loved the feel of him bare inside of her. He felt harder and thicker, the friction was more intense and the idea that he was fucking her without a condom was a turn-on as well. Her breathing deepened as she felt him dip into her so far it ached. He was going in slowly but every time he bottomed out he jerked himself into her as if to make a point about what they were doing. He was being gentle, but his cock was pressing into her guts and making space for its size.
He could tell her breathing was becoming labored and louder. She was arching her back slightly more and rolling her hips the best she could. She was searching for her orgasm. It was close. The intent was to fuck her slowly until she came and shivered and wept and begged. And then he’d fuck into her until she’d calmed and finger her ass deeper and harder until she was ready for his dick.
He angled his two fingers upward and twisted slowly as he rocked his hips into her. Everything was vibrating. His cock was throbbing and aching to come as he fingered her bottom and watched as she slowly got used to the intrusion.
“You can come, baby. Come on Daddy’s cock. Let’s see it.” He urged her.
She was so close. So so so close. Her body was sweating and buzzing. Her clit was just out of reach of the toy but she knew she could come. Her clit might not have had anything touching it directly but the wand was thrumming just below it and making her button pulse and jolt.
“I wanna come! I wanna come, Daddy…” she groaned as she pinched her eyes closed and felt tears forced from her lashes.
“Then do it, little girl. Fucking come, baby,” Harry continued using his fingers and his cock on her but he had to close his eyes. The sinful scene was too much for any mortal to withstand. Harry was going to come if he kept watching. He gritted his teeth as he felt her shaking and a soft rumble fell from her mouth. Her thighs stiffened and her gentle moans and gasps turned into breathy panting and then shouts of his name as she erupted in bliss on his cock.
Harry coughed out a gasp and continued his slow thrusts as his balls tightened readying for an orgasm. But he sucked in a sharp breath and let his mind wander to another place that gave him a second wind of sorts. Something to keep him from coming prematurely. He wanted to praise her and watch as she spasmed and pulsed around him but for the sake of good sex, he had to hold back. He needed to wait to come. His priority was her. And to be able to get the chance to fuck her ass.
When her shivering thighs slowly melted and her body relaxed Harry pulled out with a gasp. Just in the nick of time. He panted as he gathered himself, his throbbing cock was wet and cooled by the air of her bedroom, “Fuck baby. Almost made me come you felt so good.”
He kept his fingers inside of her, and now she was relaxed around his fingers. With his free hand, he gathered up her arousal on his fingers and smeared it around her hole before pushing a third finger inside of her. She moaned softly and opened her eyes at the feel of the extra finger pressing into her.
Her body was spent but there was still a spark of heat and arousal there. As if she hadn’t yet been fully satisfied, despite the intense orgasm she’d just endured. The vibrating of the wand was still going strong.
Harry poured a little more lube onto her anus as he pushed into her deeply, his fingers fully submerged, fucking into her.
“How does this feel?”
Sucking air into her lungs she felt the dampness of the blanket under her mouth where she’d drooled, “So good. It’s good, Daddy.”
Harry grinned as he began to increase his steady pace to something a little harder, faster. He held onto her low back as he fucked her ass with his fingers. The lube was making it slippery and her tight hole was easing up its grip little by little.
“Want me in here? Want to feel what it’s like to have Daddy’s cock stuffed in this little hole baby?”
She did. Yes, she did. So she nodded and grunted as she tried turning her head the slightest to see him.
Harry had composed himself considerably and he felt that he could last a bit longer, not much, but he could give her a nice preview of what it was like. A good handful of minutes, five he hoped he could last.
With his fingers still inside of her, he poured more lube over her backside, pressing the liquid in and around, and kissed her cheeks softly before finally, slowly, bringing his fingers out.
Harry bent down to continue softly kissing her tush. Making her keen as he neared the sacred little, undefiled hole he planned on desecrating.
When she felt his tongue glide from her core to her ass she shuddered. His lips and tongue on her anus were warm and wet and then she felt cool liquid drip and smear over her bum.
“Keep relaxed like you are, baby. Doing so good for me. Tell me to stop if you need. I will.”
He grasped her hips and tucked his front to her bottom, holding his shaft in his hands he pushed his tip to her hole as he massaged the spot just above her anus. His cock was already covered with her arousal as he began to gently, slowly, tactfully press in.
She immediately tensed and he stopped, “You’re doing good, baby. Just relax for me. Gonna push past this little tight muscle and then it’ll feel like heaven. Okay?”
She panted and nodded. The vibrating wand keeping her aroused and loose.
It was very tight. Harry knew, though, that once he passed the entry and had her spread apart she’d like it. It would feel incredible. Her little opening was slowly relaxing into the intrusion as he nudged his way in, little by little.
It hurt. She could admit that it hurt. But not in an unpleasant, no-go kind of way. In a this’ll only hurt for a second but will be worth it in the end kind of way. She knew that he would take care of her and he was so gentle and soft with his words and his touch that she urged her own body to relax and indulge with him.
The small snap of his tip pressing past her tight ring had her popping her eyes open and groaning. The sting of it made her sinuses burn but then… oh… then it was… oh my! Heavy and achy and divine. Something flipped over from an unpleasant sting to an intense need that wound its way over her backside. Goosebumps erupted over her bottom and she was struck with a full feeling like nothing she’d ever experienced. Her breath caught in her lungs as she felt him slice into her slowly, the pinch disappearing and being replaced with something… something edible, bitable? almost. She couldn’t pinpoint the way to describe how it felt as if she should be biting into something toothsome and mouthwatering. Yummy and textural. But heavily laden with sex and wet and heat.
Harry blew out through his mouth as he slowly entered her. The wand was making everything even feel intense on his cock, “Ooh, you like that don’t you, baby girl? I knew you would. Feels so fucking good.”
Y/n was stuck with her mouth wide open and eyes clamped shut. The saturation of tactile sensation was like a craving being placated. A craving she didn’t know she had until she felt it. She couldn’t move or respond or think. She could only feel. Accept. Surrender.
Harry’s thrusts became tighter as he got into a rhythm, slow and methodical. Not wanting to push her too far, nor himself for that matter. If he could make it last just a few moments longer he would take his time so he could luxuriate in the way she felt on him and the way she looked wrapped tightly around him.
Finally, a gasp from her lips and a moan as her hands balled into fists behind her back. Harry had his fingers digging into the soft flesh on her hips, slowly thudding into her and feeling his heart thunder behind his ribcage.
Her hole began to squeeze around him and her thighs tightened and stiffened as she mouthed unintelligible words and noises into the soft blanket below her face.
Harry blinked his eyes and cooed at her when he realized she was coming. Coming from anal sex. From the wand just barely close enough to stimulate her clit and his cock inside of her.
“Holy fuck… come baby.” Harry wouldn’t come inside of her. Not yet. The sensation might be too much for her on her first time but now he struggled to hold himself back. He didn’t allow himself to look away this time, fully immersing himself in the experience of her coming from his cock reaching as deep as it could possibly go inside of her. Her breathy moans and mumbles of gratification filled the room as the bed gently rocked under his shallow thrusts.
The moment she wobbled and softened as her orgasm began to subside he pulled out as gently as humanly possible before he could come, pumping himself in long strokes, his palm now wetted with his lover’s slick as he pulled his shaft and doused her bottom and low back with his sperm.
Y/n heard him groaning in breathy ecstasy as he poured onto her bum, wet ropes of his come cooled her hot skin when the air hit the wet streaks on her backside as one of his hands clamped onto her hip. She was so close to just collapsing, but Harry’s firm grip kept her hips up.
Harry milked himself as he watched the breathtaking sight of his sweet girl’s puckering hole and drippy pussy coated in his come as it dripped down over her in a sinful font. 
She breathed slowly as she let him finish and then felt his fingers unwrapping the tape from her wrists. When her arms were free she put her palms into the mattress and Harry pulled her down to her side and removed the tape from her ankles and then from her thigh, turning the wand off once and for all. He was still breathing deeply from the exertion of his orgasm. She watched the black tape as he flung it toward the end of the bed and then laid himself behind her body, pressing his chest into her back in silence.
It was nice to be quiet for a moment. The noise of sex and labored breaths, panting, and moans, and metal springs in the bed were now only a lustful memory. But the wetness between her legs and on her back was still very much present. Though she had no mind to get up to clean herself in that moment. To bask in the silence and the soft breaths in Harry’s arms was a treasure.
Harry’s thoughts were all over the place. He’d just had raw sex with her. And anal. And she liked it. And she left her date for him. And she used to be married but her husband was dead. And he was falling for her hard. It was a lot but he welcomed it all.
He ran his fingers through her hair and the nap of her neck was sweaty like his was. She sighed as he felt his heart pounding still. Not from exertion this time but from just being next to her. Having her in his arms. Being with her.
“How do you feel?”
Y/n pried her eyes open and turned to see him from her peripheral, “So relaxed. Really good. But, in truth… it does kind of hurt a little right now. Stings a bit.”
Harry kissed her cheek and smoothed his hand down her hip and was quickly reminded of how messy they were. His come was still on her skin and he’d just smeared it down to her thigh, “Do you have Epsom salt? We can take a warm bath and let you relax a bit. It’ll help.”
Y/n decided that warm baths after sex were her new favorite thing. Well, that could have been because it was with Harry who was attentive and soft and loving. The warm water with Epsom salts did actually soothe her muscles and relaxed her body.
Harry had his head leaned against the wall with his eyes closed and Y/n pressed into his chest, snug between his thighs with the back of her head leaned on his shoulder when Harry finally spoke again, “Be my girlfriend.”
She fluttered her eyes open and pinched her brows together, “Are you asking or are you telling?”
Harry chuckled and pushed his face into her neck, puffs of his breath falling into bursts on her sensitive skin as his chest vibrated against her back, “Asking. Of course. Choice is yours.”
The small peck to the nape of her neck sent goosebumps cascading down her back and sent her heart to wallop around in her chest.
“Are you serious? Why?!”
“Well, geez! You make it seem like you’d never consider it. What’s wrong with being my girlfriend?” Harry jested.
“I just… I’m already trying to wrap my head around the fact that you even want to sleep with me. But… girlfriend?”
“Why would it be hard to believe I want to sleep with you?”
Sighing she sat upward and turned to face the naked tattooed man that sat in her tub, “I’m… well I’m not that attractive. Not on your level of attractive-“
“You’re still on that? Thought I made it clear how gorgeous you are. If anyone should be feeling that way it’s me. I’m lucky you even gave me the time of day.”
The small, surprised smile on her face slowly grew wider. She knew he liked her. She really did. But it still felt so foreign. So unlikely.
Harry’s grin softened as he dragged his gaze down to her tits. He couldn’t help himself. Her body had him boiling hot and the way she was sitting had her breasts peeking out from the water just so. When she pushed at his shoulder with a laugh to bring his attention back up to her face he pulled at her arm and brought her back into his chest, “Be my girlfriend. Please.”
.        .        .
Waking up together was even better than the first time they did it. Because now they were a couple and she was feeling things for Harry she hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. She was also feeling a bit sore. Again. After she nodded and laughed out an ‘Okay, fine!’ when Harry asked her for the second time (or more so told her) to be his girlfriend they had sex again. But it was much softer. There was no bondage tape or vibrating wand, spanking, or pinching.
Harry laid her down on her bed and fucked into her slowly, their damp bodies slipping together, not having had the foresight to dry off before lying on her comforter. But it didn’t matter. Harry’s languid strokes filled her so perfectly and the bed shifted softly under them in rhythm with his thrusts while he brought them both to orgasm as Harry released inside of her for the first time. They stared at one another as they came. Harry had both of her hands in his, fingers slotted together and arms raised above her head, “My girlfriend. Gonna be so good to you, baby.”
Y/n sighed and gasped at the new sensation. His loving movements and the way he was looking at her, kissing her softly, with his cock deep inside, praises, and promises were all making her lose composure. She could fall in love. She definitely could.
And Harry? Well, that was his goal. He wanted her love and he wanted all of her. She was his and he was already hers. His heart was hers.
Just remembering how sensual and gentle Harry was made her heart burst. She turned her head to see Harry fast asleep still. Dark curls strewn about in a wild mess on his head. She lightly pushed his hair off of his forehead to get a better look at the sleeping beauty. Pink lips smushed into the pillow, dark lashes pressed to his skin… a true beauty.
Before even opening his eyes he spoke, “Morning.”
Y/n grinned and ran her fingers further into his hair now that she knew he was awake. She wanted some more of him. Loved what they’d done the night before. Maybe anal sex could be for another day, she would need a little break back there, but the tape on her wrists and the way she had very little control felt exhilarating. It was like deep sea diving for the first time ever and finding your true passion was marine life and the sea.
She trailed her hand down to his clavicle and traced the inked sparrows, “Did this hurt?”
Harry opened his eyes, tired and puffy as he looked at his lover who was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so to speak, “Yeah. They all hurt a bit. But it’s part of the process. Started getting tattoos when I was pretty young.”
Y/n nodded and smoothed her hand down over the butterfly and then grazed his nipples with her fingers, “You look so good with all of them. Would you get more?”
He smiled and stretched his arms overhead and then took her hand in his bringing it up to his lips, “Yes. Always thinking about what’s next. You don’t have any yourself I noticed.”
Shaking her head she spoke, “Never thought to get anything. Figured it would hurt too much.”
The sudden cheeky smirk that appeared on his face was a dead giveaway that he was about to say something that matched his expression, “Not any more than a penis in your little bum hole.”
“Oh my god, Harry!” She snorted as he laughed out through his nose, dimples making him look more innocent than he was.
“How do you feel?”
That was a question he seemed to be asking her a lot. And her answer was always the same, “I feel great.”
Keeping her eyes on his she pulled her hand from his and continued to move her hand downward so she could touch his abdomen, fit and tight with a light scattering of hair down to his happy trail. He was naked and the lower she got, the hairier he was under her fingers.
Harry licked his lips and allowed her to continue her path downward with her hand and then parted his lips, letting out a small puff of breath when her palm met his thickening prick.
“Can we go again? And then I’ll make breakfast?” She raised her brows at him as she slide her hand over him, feeling him plump up quickly under her palm.
Harry snorted a small laugh from his nostrils, “Would never say no to that.”
She was swiftly being pushed down to her back and having her thighs pushed apart as Harry positioned himself between her legs, his face kissing down her thick thighs he looked up at her, his lips moving over her skin as he spoke, “Wish I could bite into you. So perfectly plumpy and juicy,” he ran his tongue downward close to her hip before moving over to her other side, “Soft like a pillow,” he moaned as he lowered his face over her cunt.
When he spit down over her clit she groaned as she watched him begin to lick into her. It was sloppy and wet. Not only because she was already wet, but because Harry was drooling and spitting as he went. Lapping her up and spreading her out with his tongue and his fingers.
“Prettiest little pussy. Giving Daddy something to snack on so early. Such a good girl.”
Y/n rolled her eyes to the back of her head and moaned as she let herself fall back into the pillow and enjoy him. One hand worked his fingers into her while his other held her thigh and squeezed her soft skin, adding more bruises to the canvas of her flesh.
Before she could come, right before, Harry lifted his face up and removed his fingers, slowly sliding his hands up her tummy and to her breasts. Gently rolling her nipples between his fingers she gasped, “You’re so fuckable, Y/n. Your tits are begging for something to pinch at them. Can I pretty girl?”
She didn’t know what he meant exactly. She assumed he was going to pinch down harder over her but when she nodded he got up from the bed and pulled out a small stainless steel chain with tiny rubber-tipped clamps at each end her eyes widened.
She pushed herself up to sit as he sat back down next to her, “These can be adjusted so it only pinches as hard as you like. Want to try this out. Is that okay?”
She inspected the chain and clamps and felt her heart race. The man was quite kinky and who would’ve known? If he brought bondage tape and clamps in his bag she wondered what sort of things he had at home. She knew he was into a bit of BDSM, that he was dominant and enjoyed playing with her that way, but it was still somewhat of a shock because his stage persona was sweet and fun and flirty.
She looked up at him and slowly nodded, “Okay. But maybe just like gentle. At first. I’m still really sensitive.”
Harry grinned and put the clamps in her hands before bringing his large palms over her breasts and slowly massaged, “I know you’re sensitive. Which is why I think this is going to feel really good once you get past the initial bit of pain. Go on, try them on. That little knob can make it as tight or loose as you like.”
He watched as she put them on herself. He would have loved to have done the honors but he wanted her to take her time and get the right tension. When the clamps were tight enough to hold on to her nipples and the small chain was hanging down between her breasts Harry delicately pulled at the chain and brought her forward so he could kiss her.
The feel of the clamps tugging on her nipples sent a shock of ice down her body. Was she crazy to be letting this happen at… she turned her head to see the time on the clock- 8:39 am? Yes. Perhaps she was crazy.
“Don’t look at the time. We’re not punching a clock today, are we? We’re just gonna have a bit of fun and then have some breakfast.”
Y/n laughed but it was quickly cut off by his small yank, her nipples perking under the pull of the clamp.
Harry moved off the bed, his hard cock bobbing as he shifted and pulled Y/n so her bottom was at the edge of the mattress. He pulled her legs up over his thighs and painted his cock through her labia, wet and ready. The sound of him pushing her arousal around was drowned out by her moans when he pulled at the center of the chain at the same time as he entered her.
Harry’s feet were on the floor, one hand at her hip and the other on the chain as he rocked into her. He gently pulled the chain each time he pushed deep into her, her breasts being tugged upward.
“Oh my god!” She panted her words as he began to fuck into her with more muscle, his strong thighs steadying and working himself into her harder.
“Like that? So pretty like this, baby,” Harry cooed at his girlfriend as he manipulated her tits. He didn’t want to yank too hard but he loved how she clenched around each time he pulled at the chain.
“Ffuck!” Y/n did like it. She was surprised. Harry was so good at what he did, only tugging the chain and making her nipples pinch when he dipped into her achingly deep. He knew what he was doing. Trying to help her equate the pain from her nipples being wrenched up by the clamps with the pleasure of his cock gliding through her walls. Pain with pleasure. It worked. She was so wet and so desperate to come in record time that even Harry was surprised. He figured she’d enjoy it but she was fast to respond.
“Ooh! Oh, ffff! M’gonna come, Harry!!”
Harry groaned a laugh, though nothing they were doing was funny. He was only caught off guard by how fast she was being tipped over the edge.
Pulling his cock out quickly she gasped and whined, “What?! Harry?”
“How do you address me?” He raised his brows and swatted her thigh with a pop.
“Fuck!” She groaned. It was going to take some getting used to, calling him Daddy, “Sorry. I keep forgetting,” she panted, “Daddy.”
Harry lifted the chain upward slowly, pulling her tits upward as he cocked his to the side and watched her face twist up, “I think you should tighten this a little. Let’s take the training wheels off shall we?”
Y/n’s eyes widened, already feeling the discomfort of the clamps as he tugged her nipples. But just underneath that discomfort was electrostatic energy bursting in her veins that gave her a rush of arousal. In other words, she was very turned on by it and Harry could see that.
“I’m not sure I can. It’s already so tight,” she spoke in breaths.
“Well then just say you can’t and we won’t,” he countered.
She kept her eyes on his, understanding that she could say no and he’d stop. But did she want to say no? Did she think that maybe having the clamps a little tighter might feel a little more painful and be too much? Or possibly even spark something that turned her on even more?
Harry waited a bit for her to answer, knowing she was trying to determine what she wanted. This was all new to her after all.
“Do you want me to do it for you?”
Harry let go of the chain and reverently kneaded her fleshy breasts as his thumbs swiped just under her clamped nipples.
“Okay. Yes. Please. You do it. Just a little, though. I’m nervous.”
Harry grinned as he brought his gaze over her beautiful tits and started with the left side, twisting the knob to tighten the clamp little by little. He watched her face when she let out a huff of a gasp, “Okay?”
She nodded her head and looked at him, “Yeah. You can do a little more.”
Y/n was surprised that she could have the clamps any tighter than they had been, but the pinch was welcome.
Mostly.
“Okay! That’s enough!”
Harry chuckled as he released the knob and stopped twisting, “Want more on this side?”
Y/n was panting as she nodded, “Yes, just slowly- oh god…”
He began twisting the clamp to tighten slowly, her nipples being compressed under the rubber tips.
“Yes. Okay, that’s good.”
“Good girl. Now. What can I do to help you to remember the proper way to address me? Hmm?”
She was still lying flat on the mattress as Harry stood with his feet planted on the floor, his hard cock just above her, where he was inside of her only moments earlier. She swallowed and pushed herself up a bit, “Is this not enough?” She gestured over the clamps.
Harry grinned and shook his head, “I mean, I think you like it. That’s not really punishment at all is it?”
Her mouth dropped open and she looked to the corner of the room before turning her gaze back up to the naked man above her, “I don’t know.” Her voice was small suddenly.
“Well, then I’ve got an idea,” Harry spoke casually as he backed away from the bed, “You are so good at giving head and I really need to come so I’m gonna fuck your mouth while I pull at that chain. You had enough orgasms last night I think. Perhaps today you don’t get to come at all. You’re just gonna be Daddy’s little fuck toy today instead. How’s that sound?”
Sitting up fully, pressing her palms into the mattress she scrunched her brows together. No orgasm? She guessed this was part of the way he played. The way he liked to do things sometimes. And if she was going to do this with him then she figured she’d go along with it. Even though she really really wanted to come.
“Like orgasm denial?”
Harry gave her a mocking smile, “Yes. Like orgasm denial. So you learn your lesson and remember to call me Daddy.”
She nodded and stayed put in her spot, “Okay. Whatever you want, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Lie back on the bed but have your head right here at the edge so I can put your mouth to good use.” And so he could pull at the chain connected to the clamps secured to her nipples and give her a bit of pleasure. A bit of pain.
She did as she was told, scooting her body around until her head was at the edge of the bed and she could see Harry standing over her upside down.
Harry gently stroked over her neck, “I’m fuck this pretty throat until I come,” he pulled at the chain, “and tug at this while I do so.”
She groaned at the feel of her heavy breasts being lifted up by her nipples.
“If you need me to stop just pinch my thigh or something. But I expect you to be a good girl and to take your punishment nicely. Then later on if I’m feeling generous maybe I’ll let you come.”
He instructed her to open her mouth up and stick her tongue out. Harry dipped himself in past her plump lips and pulled out before thrusting in again slightly deeper, only to pull out as he watched strings of spit from her mouth stick to his cock. Holding himself at the base he tapped her lips with the crown of his prick and she tasted herself all over him. His entire shaft tasted of her, his balls and the pubic hair, coated in her arousal still.
Finally, he plunged in and pushed himself down her throat and watched it bulge with his long dick. At first, he started off slowly. Letting her get used to the sensation, pulling out a little to let her catch her breath and delicately pulling at the chain, causing her to moan around his cock in a delicious torment.
She had never had her throat fucked before. And it wasn’t what she’d call pleasant. Nor was getting her tits tugged at by the metal implement clamped to them. But his groans and choked words made her heart pound. He was enjoying the way she felt. He was using her body to get off and somehow, in some sick and twisted part of her brain, that was hot. It was so enticing to be a thing for Harry Styles to get off on. To use and to fuck and to come inside of.
The harder he went in and the more she gagged around him the more she enjoyed the feeling of the discomfort his cock caused her. The drool that dripped down her face into her ears cooled her skin and her tongue was beginning to ache from the rigid position she was holding it.
But it was the way he was tugging her nipples that sent that familiar electrostatic burst through her veins and it felt… like she could burst. She tried squeezing her thighs together and rolled her hips upward as she clamped her eyes closed and moaned around his cock. She was given a moment to take in a breath before he thrust back into her throat and he moaned, “Fucking, gorgeous, baby. Hottest woman I’ve ever seen.”
The praise had her head spinning and the arousal that was slowly building continued to flow through her core. She was unable to control the way her body responded to her nipples being painfully wrangled under the clamps.
Harry could see her clenching her thighs and swaying her hips as she moaned and gurgled. God, he’d found the perfect woman. She didn’t even know she liked any of this before him. It’s a good thing they met, he thought to himself with a smirk.
“Holy… fuck, fuck…” Harry coughed his words as his hips stuttered. He tugged the chain and watched as he manipulated her beautiful tits to his liking as his balls began to tighten. He knew he’d come fast like this. He’d already been on the verge earlier when he fucked her pussy.
He pulled himself out as he kept the chain in his hand with her breasts lifted upward. He needed a moment. He wanted to come but wanted to make it dramatic.
Releasing the chain he bent down to put his lips over hers and cooed, “So good. My little come vessel? You ready for Daddy’s load? Gonna take it like a good girl?”
Y/n groaned and raised her hips, needing something, anything. God, she was on edge but she knew her punishment was that she couldn’t come. Not yet anyway. She’d be sure to be very good and very sweet so maybe he’d let her come later. She realized she liked this a lot.
“Yes, Daddy. I’m ready.” Her words came out in a rasp.
“Open up that mouth wide,” he spoke, his face still hovering over hers as he tapped her cheeks.
She reopened her mouth and stuck her tongue out then suddenly felt his saliva slide down her tongue and into her throat, catching her off guard the slightest bit. But just as quickly as she realized that he’d spit into her mouth he was repositioning himself over her and stuffing his cock down her throat.
Harry’s gasps and moans were like music to her ears. She loved his singing voice, and the way he sounded when he was fucking her was quite the same she determined. He had a pretty voice whether he was talking, singing, or fucking.
This time, his thrusts were rough as he yanked at her nipples. Her eyes went wide at the sudden sharp pain but then the spark drove down her ribcage into her tummy and shocked her cunt with a dose of arousal she had not expected. She’d heard of women being able to come from nipple play alone and now she got it. She understood it now as her throat was being railed and air was being blocked from getting into her lungs. She moaned and rolled her hips as Harry pressed in balls deep and gritted his teeth.
She tasted the first bit of his come as he gasped and then pulled out. She gulped air into her lungs and then felt his come pour out onto her lips, her chin, and eyes, then over her neck and down to her tits that were being tugged at harshly. It hurt and it felt like heaven.
Her mouth was wide open as she sucked in oxygen and arched her back toward the pull of the clamps as Harry drained himself on her, his own loud moans overtaking any noise she might be making.
Suddenly he pressed his cock back into her throat and released the last bit of his come down her esophagus and into her belly before pulling back out and stroking his cock over her face, milking the last bit of his release over her cheeks and nose.
Her chest was heaving just as hard as his. She groaned when he let go of the chain. She thought for a moment, the smallest moment, that she would come if he continued pulling at her nipples the way he was. Her buds were sore and pulsing but the radiating pain was coupled with that pleasure that she always got when she was turned on and slippery wet.
Harry stood back and looked over Y/n’s body, “See? I’m an artist too? I can sing and I can paint,” he laughed lowly as he helped her sit up and smirked, “My canvass is beautiful, though, so it was easy to make pretty.”
She laughed and shook her head, “Wow. A real comedian.”
“I am known to crack a few good ones. My fans love my jokes.”
She gestured toward her face, “Uh, can I… ?”
Harry helped her into the bathroom to clean up. She was quite the mess. While he handed her a damp towel to wipe off he loosened the clamps slowly and pulled each one off.
She hissed once the implement was removed from her final nipple and Harry groped at her tits and licked over each nipple, giving a proper kiss over them before standing upright and clapping his hands together, “Time for breakfast!”
.        .        .
Most of the weekend was spent at her house. Harry fucked her, tied her up, clamped her nipples again (which she requested), and spanked her as she came around his cock while he had her lying flat on her tummy.
It was… fun. She had fun with him.
On Sunday afternoon they went out to the little pizzeria in town and sat in the dining room to eat the Neapolitan-style pizza they ordered.
“So, I guess now that you’re my girlfriend I should warn you, and I’m sure you know this, about what to kind of expect.”
This had her attention. She knew they needed to discuss some of the details.
“You and I will be photographed together occasionally. Sometimes it’ll be fans that catch us, sometimes the paparazzi will know where I’m at. They already know my schedule, my usual hotels, the gym I go to, things like that. And they’ll probably start to learn yours as well. You may see them yards away and not even realize it at first.”
Y/n sipped her coffee as Harry explained what she might experience with the paparazzi and his fans.
“But it will be more invasive than just that. People will find out everything they can about you. They’ll make up lies about you and me. Some straight-up wild conspiracies. They’ll be mean. Some might even reach out to you directly and threaten you.”
“Has that happened before? An ex was threatened?” She raised her brows in surprise.
Harry nodded, “Yes. Some years ago an ex was at my concert and she was cornered and we had to get security involved. So, after that, I learned that anyone I date has to have security nearby if they’re at my concert. Also, direct messages on Instagram or Twitter too. But that’s not as scary. You can limit who comments on your posts or just make your accounts private.”
Harry reached across the table and took her hand in his, “But I need you to keep trusting me. To ignore what you read and probably just don’t read it at all. It’s best to not even open up the comments section when you see photos of yourself or us anywhere.”
Just then, as if by some kind of karmic summoning, a light flashed and the sound of a cellphone's camera rang out, two, then three times. Harry put his hand up, “That’s enough. Would be polite if you asked first next time.”
The two young girls, who were actually closer to your age than anything, squeaked out a sorry! before scurrying off.
Harry pointed toward where the girls were headed, “That’s a good example right there. Taking our photos and videos without our permission while we’re at dinner. They might not share it with anyone but chances are at some point those photos will be seen. I just want you to be prepared.”
Y/n nodded and realized that now, people were looking. They hadn’t noticed before but suddenly they were aware that Harry Styles was sitting only feet away in a small pizzeria in suburbia Illinois with a woman. The girls with their forced impromptu photo op had alerted the other patrons         of his presence. She sighed.
“So, can you do that? Keep trusting me?”
She nodded again, “Yeah. I think so. I guess we’ll see how it goes but I like you a lot. I want to see where this goes.”
Harry squeezed her hand, “Good. I hope you feel I’m worth it. It’s going to get a bit bumpy but if you can ignore that sort of nonsense and noise then we’re gonna be great.”
The pizza was delicious. Y/n knew it would be. She’d eaten at the pizzeria many times and she knew she had to bring Harry before he left. They’d been doing nothing but eating delivery, having sex, taking baths, and sleeping the whole time. It was necessary to get out of her house and comb her hair once and for all and it felt good. But she did feel the grating presence of eyes on them as they ate and even when they left the restaurant together.
Back at her house, she pouted as Harry started to pack some of his things away. She wasn’t ready for their little weekend to end.
“Hey, no pouting,” Harry said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead, “I’ve got an idea.”
Tilting her head back to look up at him she raised a brow in question.
“Come back with me. To LA. We can ship all your stuff to my house and then you can come with me to Europe. I don’t want to be away from you.”
Blinking her eyes and shaking her brain of the puzzlement she continuously seemed to feel with him she smiled with her eyes wide, “Really? You want me to come with you?”
Harry shrugged with a dimpled grin, “Course I do. I need you to. Will you?”
“I mean… I can’t fly out with you tomorrow. I’ve got to get a few things to get in order but it’ll take only a few days. When do you leave for Europe?”
“Week and a half.”
“Um… Well, how about I fly out to LA a few days before you leave and… if you really want then I can come with you- but are you sure? Is that not too much?”
“I can do what I want, Y/n. This is my gig. I want you there. I need you there.”
Swallowing down her doubts and looking at his mouth and then to his eyes she felt nothing but excitement in her bones as she nodded, “Okay. I’ll go with you to Europe.”
Chapter 4
Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist
Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕
Tags: @michellekstyles @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff@gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @daphnesutton @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @harrys-jumper @ameerakane20 @harryssky1 @thatgirljas13 @tobesolovelysstuff @jerseygirlinca @harrys-flower @onlyangellucifer @cherryluvhobi
*usernames in orange cannot be tagged
615 notes · View notes
piratefishmama · 9 months
Text
Fake It 'till You Make It | Part 1
The phone was ringing. It was eight in the morning, on a Sunday, and the phone was ringing. Eddie rolled over, pushing his face into his pillow in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’d suffocate in the sweet embrace of his misshapen, well-loved pillow before whoever dared to call at such an ungodly hour, decided to give up.
No dice. However his uncle did seem to be answering it for him, bless that man, bless each and every one of his gray hairs.
“Eddie, up an at em, son! S’fer you!” Damn him. Damn him and all his gray hairs.
“Nggghhhh!!!!” Was his very coherent response
“It’s one of those kids’a yours!” Kids? He had kids? Oh shit he had kids, right. kids who should know better than to call at EIGHT. AM. AM. THE MORNING.
ON A SUNDAY.
Just inconsiderate really. He’d spent the majority of the previous night convincing the Gillespie’s that maybe their daughter didn’t actually need to get onto the endless carousel that was the dating scene.
Convincing them that maybe the dating pool was so batshit insane that it was for the best that she remain perfectly single for a little while longer. That maybe being single wasn’t nearly as bad as being with whatever the fuck Eddie Munson was.
Eddie had spent the entire evening referring to her father by his first name as it visibly pissed him off, called his daughter ‘sweet cheeks’ and slapped her ass as she left the room one too many times (any time more than zero times was too many times), offered her mother a joint to chill the fuck out, talked about his band incessantly, he’d gone all out on the ‘disrespectful sack of shit’ angle until he’d been forbidden to date their daughter.
Then listened with glee outside the door while they declared she was forbidden from dating for as long as it took to shake her from her ‘bad boy’ phase. A job well done, she’d slipped him the fifty bucks she owed for the night through the back window, and he was on his way. Fifty bucks better off!
Megan wasn’t having a bad boy phase. Megan was a lesbian waiting for the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out of Hawkins. She just… couldn’t handle her parents constantly asking about her dating life. Or her lack of a dating life.
She was beautiful, the picture of stereotypical femininity, they had no idea why their daughter wasn’t snagging one of the rich Loch Nora guys like a Harrington, or a Johnson, or even one of the B grade rich guys like Hagan, or Peters.
She was too busy with a Holloway.
Then the following hours before he’d eventually passed out, he’d been slowly working through memorizing the chorus tabs of an Iron Maiden song he’d been meaning to learn for one of the covers used to bulk up Corroded Coffin’s sets. Jeff already had his parts down, Eddie had been lagging.
“M’not here!”
“Says it’s important!”
“Tell em I’m dead!”
There was a pause, and then his bedroom door was opening, and a cushion was thrown at his head, forcing him upright to shout his indignation to the world while his uncle stood there stern and unimpressed “Boy get your backside up an talk to y’damn friends.”
“Nghhh, fine.” He was up anyway. The phone ringing had woken him up. It’d take a miracle to fall back into a full snooze now. He shoved his blankets aside, trudged past his uncle, and snagged the phone from where Wayne had left it on the little table by the window. “Whomever this may be, I’m nuking your stats next session for the unholy crime of waking me up before noon.”
“But I’m calling about a job”
“Ahh, Henderson. Might as well just tear up the sheet for that little gnome now, kid.”
“He’s a dwarf and— ngh whatever, I needed to roll a new character anyway. Listen! I have a job for you, if you want it, one of your weird little rent a guy gigs” not something he was proud to have let slip around the kids. It could get weird if they made assumptions!
But if it got him an extra buck or two without having to do much other than be an over the top version of himself, then what was the harm? It wasn’t like he was selling his body or anything, just his funhouse personality.
“…Go on.”
“Okay so… don’t freak out, but… it’s a guy. He’s cool though!! Like, really cool, super chill, no danger to you what so ever.” That was fine, his ‘dates’ were usually fake but that didn’t erase the very real danger of being perceived by two of an older less cool generation that talked. “He knows it’s all fake so it’s just acting—"
“And this guy’s parents? How cool are they?” It wasn’t just faking a date, it was faking it in front of parents. Parents who usually weren’t about to approve of him when it was a heterosexual relationship. A Homosexual one? He really didn’t want to have to go through the real risks of hate crimes with a teenager, but Dustin clearly wasn’t getting the danger aspect there.
“I don’t know, I don’t really know them, but he says he can explain everything if you give him a chance, he’s free today, he even said he’d buy you breakfast if you meet him early!”
“…And he knows I’m a him, not a her, right?”
“Yeah, I said he was cool! The gay thing isn’t a big deal to him.”
“I’m not—” it was instinctual, Dustin didn’t know what he was, maybe he’d heard rumours, but he didn’t outright know that his dungeon master was a queer. Probably for the best, as lovely as Claudia Henderson was, she was very susceptible to accepting the crowdsourced opinion on things. She didn’t have her sons need to question everything.
She’d probably pull him from every Hellfire meet ever if Dustin let it slip that the guy in charge was queer.
“I know you’re not, but it’s fake right? it’s not like you guys have to do anything other than claim to be dating, right?” True… he never actually did anything with his ‘dates’. Usually just telling the parents they were dating was enough of a shock to the system to hide the lack of proof. The most he’d ever done was slap an ass here and there, maybe wrap an arm around a waist or two.
That was enough for the ‘traditional’ close minded Parents of Hawkins.
“…Fine, I’ll hear the guy out, but I’m only hearing him out alright! I’ll decide on whether or not I wanna take this job only after he explains, got it?”
“Got it!!”
“Alright, tell him to meet me at Benny’s in twenty.” Another quick confirmation and Eddie was hanging up the phone. so much for going back to sleep but at least he’d get a lovely breakfast out of it.
Part 3 
1K notes · View notes