#did i just spend my only free day after three weeks of twelve hours days making a buddie edit

[eddiemunsonswhxre]

little bean / eddie munson (you're the reason pt. 3)

masterlist

you're the reason mini series (part three)

part one , part two

cw: female reader, fluff, some angst, lots of cursing, pregnancy, mentions but not descriptions of birth, supportive best friends, so much cuteness, probably one of my fav things i've ever written, also over 10k words, not the last part

you and eddie handle your pregnancy

notes: this takes place in an alternate universe where the upside down doesn't exist, the byers never moved, el doesn't have powers, etc. i did a little research on how pregnancy/doctors appointments went in the 80s because it's much different than today but i also know some things are going to be wrong. but i do know for certain ultrasounds weren't a thing yet, and if they were it was extremely rare. i'm also fairly certain i messed up the timeline somewhere but it confused me too much to figure it out so...

--

12 weeks

eddie ran his hand through his hair as he left his fourth therapy appointment. it’d been a month since you had your talk, and as he said he would, the next day he scheduled appointments to see a therapist once a week. he actually felt as though they were benefitting and he was proud to tell you that. he’d also gotten a factory job to start making money for the baby. it wasn’t hard work, he had good hours, and it paid well. he felt like things were really going to work out.

you had just hit your twelve week mark and were starting to really feel some pregnancy symptoms. regardless, you picked up a part time job at the local pharmacy and did some knitting in your free time to sell. the only people who knew so far were the two of you, your employer, your grandma, and wayne. that was partially because you were scared of how your friends would react. you also had your first appointment today. you were more than ecstatic to hear your baby’s heartbeat for the first time. you and eddie hadn’t been together too much, only meeting up to talk about updates and otherwise talking on the phone. 

but, you wouldn’t have him miss this appointment for the world. he was the father, and you loved him. you already knew based on his success so far that you would take him back, you just wanted to be extra sure. he was on his way to pick you up right now and you were struggling to find clothes to wear. everything wasn’t fitting anymore and you couldn’t rationalize spending money on maternity clothes until absolutely nothing fit. you huffed in annoyance and finally decided on a long black skirt that just managed to hide your bump. you paired it with a pink blouse and slipped on some flats. you looked less like yourself, but you didn’t want the doctor to think you were some dumb teenager who had no idea what she was doing (even though you were…).

you heard your grandma open the door and eddie greet her. after convincing your grandma he was genuine about changing, she welcomed him back into the family with open arms. eddie knocked on your open door, smiling as he watched you brush on some make up. “hey, mama,” he snickered, crossing his arms. 

you rolled your eyes but smiled at him. “i am not calling you daddy,” you mumble, applying mascara to your lashes. 

“oh, you wound me,” he playfully scoffs, pushing off the door and walking to you. “turn around, lemme see my little bean,” he says, making grabby hands. you chuckle, putting down the tube of mascara and turning. you smooth your skirt down to showcase your bump causing eddie to gasp and his smile to widen. “baby’s getting so big,” he coos, sinking to his knees and putting his hands on your stomach. 

your lip quivers as you watch eddie place a kiss to your stomach. “hi, little one,” he says, caressing your stomach as he talks to the baby. “i hope you’re being good for mommy and stop making her all sick,” he murmurs, talking as if you’re not even there. “mommy and daddy are going to listen to your little heartbeat for the first time today, gonna get to hear how strong you are,” he continues, littering kisses over your stomach. you sniffle causing eddie to look up at you as you wipe away some tears. he stands up immediately and grabs ahold of your waist with one hand and your cheek with the other. “what? what’s wrong?” he asks, eyes searching yours frantically. 

you let out a small laugh and wave him off before taking a deep breath and wrapping your arms around him. “that was just so cute,” you mumble, holding him tightly.

eddie relaxes at your words and a soft smile covers his face. he wraps his arms around you, holding you gently and placing his lips to the top of your head. “hormones really getting to ya, huh?” he asks, stroking your back. you nod, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. “well, i got a couple parenting and pregnancy books from the thrift store and they say that talking to your baby before they’re born can help strengthen your bond with them. and i don’t know… i’m kind of scared that i won’t be a good dad so i figured i’d get a head start,” eddie admits and you let out another cry, causing him to pull you away from his chest and look at you in mild alarm. 

“you bought pregnancy books?” you ask, your heart swelling. he wipes your tears off your cheeks to try and avoid ruining your makeup and nods. you pout. “that’s adorable,” you mumble, wanting to cry more. god damn you hormones. after another moment your eyebrows furrow. “wait, eddie, you’re gonna be a great dad. you’re already proving that,” you say, sniffling as your tears finally stop. 

eddie shrugs and looks away from you. “just don’t wanna turn out like-”

“you’re not your father, don’t even go there,” you reassure softly, kissing his cheek. eddie closes his eyes as he tries to let it soak in. “come on, let’s go listen to our baby’s heart beat,” you say and eddie nods. you take his hand and squeeze it before leading him out of your room. 

your appointment went well, and let’s just say the both of you had multiple tears when you heard the heartbeat for the first time. you also found out your due date was february 10th, and having that day made it seem so much more real. 

15 weeks

it was currently 9:03pm and you were suffering. your stomach was killing you due to your muscles stretching to make room for the baby and you were having a killer headache. you grumbled, grabbing the phone off your wall and dialing eddie’s phone number. it rang five times before he picked up. “hello?” he spoke. you could hear some type of movie blaring in the background. 

“hey, it’s me,” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut. a particularly painful stab shots through your muscles that sends tears to your eyes. 

you hear the tv turn down in the background. “what’s up? something wrong?” he asks, hiding his worry as to not cause you to further panic if you were having a problem. 

a few tears fall from your eyes as you rub the side of your stomach. “are you busy?” you ask, swallowing down the lump that was forming in your throat. 

“no, why?” eddie answers, knowing you weren’t calling just to talk. 

you let out a small whimper that has eddie’s heart rate picking up. “i’m sorry to even bother you, but do you think you could bring me some tylenol? i-i ran out yesterday and i’m in so much pain,” you ask, pushing on your stomach to get some type of relief. 

eddie frowns as he can hear the pain in your voice. “yeah, no problem, babe. i’ll go pick some up, lay down okay? i’ll be fast,” he answers, leaning over to grab his wallet from the counter. 

you nod, biting your lip as a piercing pain goes through your temple. “you don’t need to rush, thank you so much,” you say, not wanting to inconvenience him too much. 

“oh hush, i’ll be there in a few. bye babe,” he says. you whisper a goodbye back and then he hangs up. you don’t comment on the fact he called you babe, to be honest you had missed it. you huff, walking back over to your bed and laying on your back. tears fall from your eyes as you close them and hold the sides of your stomach to try and relieve some pain. 

it takes eddie approximately eleven minutes to run to the gas station and get to your house. he slips inside with the key you had given him, not wanting to make you get out of bed since your grandma was already in her room watching some crime show. he makes his way down the hall and to your room. he knocks before pushing it open slowly, peaking in to make sure you were okay with him coming in. the sight in front of him makes his heart hurt. “oh, y/n,” he mumbles, closing your door behind him and speed walking over to you. you give him a small smile and push yourself into a sitting position. 

“thank you, eddie,” you murmur, hand resting on your growing stomach. 

eddie sits next to you on the bed and begins grabbing things from the bag. “here’s your tylenol,” he starts, handing you the box. “then i got you some strawberry milk since you like it so much, oh and some chocolate and a bag of chips,” he said, laying it all out between you. 

you smile and lean over to give him a hug. “thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head on his shoulder. 

he wraps one arm around you, rubbing your upper arm and placing a kiss to your temple. “no problem,” he whispers back, looking down at you with eyes full of love. 

you pull away so you can take some tylenol and eddie watches. you look at the chocolate bars and chips he had brought you as you tried to decide. finally, you chose on the hershey bar. “my wallet is on my vanity, take however much this was,” you say, pointing to your vanity haphazardly. 

eddie shakes his head, pursing his lips. “nah, i got it, don’t worry,” he says, rubbing his thighs with his palms. you frown but he just gives you a warning look. “do you wanna lay back down or what? what’s gonna help you feel the best?” he asks, turning to face you more. 

you take another bite of chocolate as you think. “can i ask something that might cross a line?” you ask shyly. eddie furrows his brows but nods anyway. “can we cuddle?” you whisper, avoiding eye contact.

eddie chuckles and starts to kick his shoes off. “yeah, y/n, we can cuddle,” he laughs at you, pulling his leather jacket off as well before crawling up towards your headboard. “how do you want me?” he asks, looking back at you.

“can i lay between your legs?” you mumble, cheeks hot. eddie laughs at you lightly and sits against the headboard. 

he moves his legs apart and pats his chest. “come here,” he says with a smile. you comply, slowly making your way up to him. you groan in pain as you twist yourself to sit down. you lean your back against eddie’s chest, head resting just below his shoulder. your knees are propped up as eddie wraps his arms around to rest on your stomach. you break off a piece of chocolate and hold it behind you, looking up to watch him eye it. “you’re sure?” he asks with a smirk. you roll your eyes fondly before nodding and he eats it from your fingers. 

“she’s killing me already,” you sigh, eating another piece of chocolate.

eddie raises his brows and looks down at you. “she? you think we’re having a girl?” he asks, lightly rubbing his hands over your stomach. 

you shrug, realizing you hadn’t yet told him this theory. “i don’t know. i’ll be happy with either of course, but something is just telling me it’s a little girl,” you say, rubbing your stomach lovingly. “you think it’s gonna be a boy?” you ask, leaning your head back to look at him. 

“uh, i don’t know. i think i want a girl though,” he says, looking into your eyes. 

you smile, that was sweet. “why? if you don’t mind me asking,” you shrug once more. you throw the empty chocolate bar wrapper into the trash can next to your bed. 

eddie, sighs as he thinks. “just want a little girl to spoil, i guess. a little princess,” he speaks dreamily. “of course i’d love a boy too,” he adds, looking back to you. “what do you want?” he asks.

you hum, looking down at your bump. “i don’t even care, just want them to be healthy,” you respond. eddie nods and gives you a smile. 

“yeah, especially that,” he agrees.

the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes until you decide to just ask him. “eddie?” you question. he hums in response, telling you to continue. “do you think… we could get back together now?” you hesitate. eddie freezes for a moment in shock.

you feel him tense, and frown. maybe you should’ve waited a bit more. “well, i guess that’s really up to you. i’m gonna love you no matter how soon or how long you wait to take me back,” eddie finally answers and you feel your heart swell. 

“i’ve really been thinking about it for the past week. i knew i wanted to wait until i felt like you’d gotten a good grasp of things and i didn’t know if it was just my hormones making me want to do it now or if it’s truly what i wanted. i’ve realized that it isn’t just my hormones, and if you can tell me you think you’ve gotten a handle on your anger and what not then yeah, i wanna be back together with you,” you explain, playing with his fingers. 

eddie smiles, feeling his heart warm with joy. “i’m not gonna lie, sometimes i do get really mad still. my therapist says i always will. but i haven’t blown up on anyone and i feel like i do honestly know how to control it now or handle it in a healthy way,” eddie responds and you smile. 

you look back to meet his eyes and twist slightly. “then i’m glad to have you back,” you say and waste no time pressing your lips against his. 

16-19 weeks (spreading the news)

over the next couple weeks, you and eddie had decided to finally start telling others about your pregnancy. you’d been keeping to yourself mostly so it wasn’t hard to hide but they definitely knew something was up. they knew about your fight and that you were taking a break, but had no clue about the pregnancy. 

right now, you were on your way to eddie’s practice with his band to tell them. he figured they should be one of the firsts, because him being a dad was going to affect them too. “you nervous?” eddie asked, pulling into gareth’s driveway. you nod, looking into the garage at the three guys setting up their instruments. eddie grabs your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips and pressing a kiss to them. “it’ll be fine, i’m sure they’ll be excited,” he comforts, trying to will away the nerves in your eyes. 

you take a deep breath nodding and giving him a tight lipped smile before getting out. eddie decided to let you do this however you wanted to. and he would admit, your idea was pretty cute. you stretched your back as eddie grabbed his guitar from the back, waving to the guys as he came up to you. “showtime,” eddie muttered, kissing your head before grabbing your hand and leading you towards the guys. 

“y/n, what’s up? long time no see,” gareth smiled, walking over and pulling you into a half hug. 

you smile, hugging him back with one arm as jeff approaches you. “life’s been a little crazy lately. luckily, i think me and eddie got things under control,” you joke, giving eddie a genuine smile as jeff pulls you into his side as well. ricky waved from afar, never being the type for physical contact.  

“mm, we can only hope,” eddie mumbles, squeezing your hand before walking over to set up his guitar. 

gareth goes to get you a chair from the top of his garage as jeff walks with you towards ricky. “here to listen to us practice?” ricky asks, tuning his guitar as he gave you a small smile, his yellow teeth a bit too on display. 

you looked to eddie for reassurance and he nodded, biting his lip to hide his excited smile. “yeah, eddie and i thought it would be best to get the little one started early,” you explain, stepping back and turning to the side. you smooth down your shirt, which was really one of eddie's (even though it was way too big to fit him normally), to reveal your bump. 

there’s a loud noise as gareth drops the chair he was getting for you, it messily clattering to the ground. “woah, you’re pregnant?” jeff asks, stepping to the side to further inspect your bump. you laugh, pulling up eddie’s shirt to rest on top of your bump so they could get a better look. 

“holy fuck. shit, wow, oh my god, munson you’re gonna be a dad?” gareth mumbles, rushing over and squatting down to look at your swollen stomach. he throws confused glances towards eddie who was chuckling while also looking at your bump in fascination. 

eddie walks over, placing a hand on your back and smiling proudly. “yep, best daddy out there,” he said slyly, nodding at the guys. 

ricky’s face scrunches up in disgust, “never call yourself daddy again.” all of you laugh as gareth asks if he can touch your stomach.

you let him of course and watching his face is like watching a small child on christmas. “there’s a little baby on the other side of my hands right now, woah,” he says with a smile. jeff shoves him out of the way to get his turn. you watch the guys fondly talk about the baby, agreeing that he or she would automatically be the biggest fan of their band and talking about everything they’d do together. 

the next people you wanted to tell were steve and robin. you had made the guys promise not to tell anyone else about the pregnancy since you guys wanted to do it all yourselves. after leaving his rehearsal that day, you gushed to eddie about how excited you were to tell everyone else. so, you went right home and called robin and steve to set up a hang out the next day. 

eddie and you were sitting in a booth at the diner, waiting for robin and steve to arrive and get lunch. eddie was nervously tapping his rings against the table while you scanned the menu, trying to decide which of the delicious foods you were going to actually get. “hun, why are you so nervous?” you ask, glancing up from the menu.

he bites his lip, looking over to you. he shrugs, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “i just feel like your friends don’t like me that much, i’m just scared of what they’ll think,” he explains, moving his hand down to rest on your thigh.

you shake your head and place a kiss to his cheek. “i promise you that you’re worrying too much. robin and steve do like you, steve’s just weird,” you say and pat his cheek, causing him to laugh. the bell rings, signaling someone had entered the diner and you both look up to see exactly who you were waiting for. you smiled as robin’s eyes met yours and you began to wave her over. she dragged steve along, them sliding into the booth across from you. 

despite eddie’s worries, the four of you fell into easy conversation until it was time for you to order. steve ordered a double cheese burger, robin ordered chicken tenders (because of course she would), and eddie had gotten a bacon cheeseburger. normally, you were the type to get a salad or chicken tenders because you didn’t have the biggest appetite. so you could expect steve and robin’s reaction when you started listing off your order. “can i get a double cheeseburger with bacon, oh, can i do that? awesome. um and then can i actually get cheese fries instead of normal fries. and uh, eds do you think onion rings would be okay? yeah, i’ll take those too. oh! and can i please get a strawberry milkshake, thank you so much,” you rattle off, smiling as you hand the waitress your menu. she smiles, giving you a knowing look and walks away. 

steve and robin eye you, robin being a lot more subtle as eddie tries to hold back his laugh. steve’s jaw is literally dropped as you sip on your sprite. “y/n, are you sure you can eat that much food? like… not trying to be mean but you never eat like that,” steve wonders. he groans in pain when robin slaps him upside the head and gives him a warning look. 

eddie smiles, wrapping his arm around you as you two make eye contact. you nod, giving him the go ahead. “hey, she’s eating for two, cut her some slack,” he jokes with raised brows, watching robin and steve’s eyes widen. 

they look at each other before their eyes flip between the both of you. “two?” robin stutters, looking at you in disbelief. 

you let out a giggle and lean into eddie’s side. “wait, wait, wait, wait… you’re eating for… no…” steve gasps, his eyes falling to your hand as you place it on your stomach that he could now see was prominent. 

robin squeals, throwing her hands up and then flinging them across the table to grab yours. “oh my gosh, you’re pregnant?” she gasps, tears filling her eyes. you pout, tears filling your own as you see her reaction. 

steve smiles at you, his own eyes watering, before giving eddie a look. eddie purses his lips until steve holds out his hand, gesturing for eddie to shake it. he smiles, doing just that before looking back to you and robin. “we’re gonna have a baby in february,” you confirm, tears falling from your eyes as you look at eddie lovingly. 

“steve, we need to start picking up more shifts so we can buy stuff,” robin says pointedly and steve rolls his eyes. 

he looks at you with a smile on his face, one of the most genuine ones you’d ever seen him carry. “you guys ready for this? if you need any help we gotcha. i know i say i hate babysitting, but i will be all over this kid,” he laughs and you wipe tears from your eyes at his words.

“this kid is gonna have the best uncle robin and aunt steve,” eddie coos jokingly, causing steve’s eyebrows to furrow. 

“i think you got that mix-”

“ah! i said what i said, harrington,” eddie says, pointing a finger at him. the three of you laugh as steve rolls his eyes, not finding it in him to actually be annoyed. 

robin and steve had promised not to tell anyone until you gave them the go ahead. so, a week later eddie was trying to come up with what he thought would be the hardest one. dustin. 

“i don’t see why you can’t just tell him straight out,” you say, huffing as you try to clasp your bra behind your back. eddie shakes his head, coming up behind you and taking the band from your hands. 

you let your hands fall to your sides as you look in the mirror. you had a shift today at the pharmacy that you were getting ready for while eddie was entering the panic stage. you were standing in just your underwear and your bra, watching eddie’s concentrated face over your shoulder as he hooked the bra together. he wrapped his arms around you when he finally got it, resting his head on your shoulder while running his hands over your belly. “it’s dustin, it’s harder than that,” he hums, the feeling of you against him calming him down. 

you sigh, resting your hands on top of eddie’s. “what about mike, lucas, and will? you’re not so nervous about telling them,” you wonder, looking into his eyes through the mirror. 

eddie closes his eyes and then buries his face into the crook of your neck. “dustin is more… attached to me i guess, i don’t know,” he murmurs into your neck. 

“yeah, well he’s also attached to steve, i think it’s his lack of father figur-” you start.

“he definitely likes me more than steve,” he interrupts and you roll your eyes. 

you reach your hand back and place it on the back of his head, massaging his scalp. “you said you were going to go look at a couple different stores around for crib prices and other stuff. why don’t you take him with you? then you won’t have to think of a way to bring up the topic, he’ll ask,” you suggest. eddie lifts his head and looks at you in slight amazement. 

he turns you around, grabbing your face and pressing your lips to his. “you’re brilliant,” he mutters, causing you to giggle. 

you kiss him back before pushing him away. “go call him while i finish getting ready,” you say, eddie nodding.

and that’s how eddie found himself walking into kohls with dustin talking his ear off about his little girlfriend. dustin followed him blindly as eddie tried to navigate his way to the baby section. “found it,” eddie said with a smile as an assortment of cribs, highchairs, and changing tables came into view.

dustin stopped, looking after eddie with confusion covering his face as eddie began walking through the isle of cribs. he was scanning them with such consideration that had dustin feeling like he was in a different dimension. “eddie?” dustin questioned, jogging slightly to catch up with him. eddie raised his eyebrows in response, trying to hide his nerves. “why are you looking at baby stuff?” he asked, looking at the brown and white cribs that were set up next to them. 

eddie sends dustin a small smile before picking up a price tag on one of the simpler cribs. his eyes widen slightly at the price and immediately drops it. absolutely not. “because henderson, i’m having a kid,” he says nonchalantly as if he didn’t just drop a total bombshell

dustin looks at him in shock, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips. “you’re kidding, right?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

“nope, y/n’s due in february. so i kind of need to get a move on with looking for stuff,” eddie shrugs, moving over to the clothes section instead. 

dustin is quiet, taking a few minutes to process. “you’re serious?” he asks, still unbelieving. 

a scoff leaves eddie’s lips as he picks up a small onesie, a pout forming on his lips at how cute the little thing is. “dead serious, when y/n gets off you can see for yourself,” eddie informs him, nervously glancing while trying to gauge his reaction. 

he’s silent for a few more minutes until he gasps. “oh my god, gross,” he gags, turning away from eddie. 

eddie looks at him in confusion and picks up a small baby blanket. “what?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over the soft fabric. 

“she’s pregnant! that means you had to, ugk, you had to have, oh god,” dustin holds his hand up to his mouth as he gags.

eddie bursts out laughing as he realizes what dustin was trying to say. “what? did you not think i had sex with my girlfriend?” he laughs, watching dustin squeeze his eyes shut. 

“stop! literally stop it’s like seeing your parents- oh i’m gonna throw up,” dustin goes on, covering his face with his hands.

eddie chuckles and slings his arm over dustin. “it’s life, kid. now, do you think this blanket or this blanket is cuter?” he asks, holding one up before pointing to the other one. 

dustin gathers himself before opening his eyes and looking between the two. “uh, this one,” dustin says, pointing to the one in his hand. 

a smile covers eddie’s face as he nods. “yeah, i think so too. c’mon, i wanna get it,” he says and pats dustin on the back. 

after dustin freaking out for a while, you and eddie decided to just tell the others all at once. will was definitely the most excited, max being a close second. 

week 20

eddie was sat at your dining room, sipping a beer and going over a campaign he was trying to set up. he wanted to get in one last longer one before the baby came and he wanted it to be perfect. it was currently the first week of october and most of hellfire was spending their time in school, but they simply couldn’t go on without eddie as their leader. you were cooking some pasta because you’d been thinking about it for the past few days along with some greens your doctor told you you should be eating. 

a random radio station was playing as your grandma walked out of the kitchen and back to her place in the living room. you hummed along, enjoying the peaceful evening when you felt a small nudge against the inside of your stomach. 

you gasped, hand flying to your stomach as you waited to see if it would happen again. your doctor had also told you that you should feel kicking within the next couple weeks and you wanted to make sure you weren’t imagining it. but then, right where your hand was placed, another slightly stronger nudge caused your tummy to poke out a bit. “eddie,” you gasped, tears filling your eyes as you cradled your bump. 

eddie’s eyes darted up to you as he put down his beer and scrambled out of his seat. “what? are you okay?” he asked as he quickly walked to you. you turned around, a tear falling down your cheek as eddie grabbed your face, his own full of fear. 

you pouted before laughing through your tears and giving him a smile. “little bean is kicking,” you say quietly and eddie’s eyes widen in excitement. 

“actually?” he asks as a smile covers his features. he drops down to the ground and places his hands on your stomach. you nod, grabbing his wrist to place it where you had felt the last kick. you waited in silence for a moment, eddie biting his lip. “hey, little bean, it’s daddy. can you kick for me please? just like you did for mommy?” he coos, stroking your stomach lovingly as he waits. 

then, another kick, and eddie has tears falling. he kisses your stomach over and over again, murmuring to the baby as you stroke his hair. “i need to go show grandma,” you say and wipe your eyes. eddie smiles, wiping his own eyes as he stands and places a kiss to your head.

he stirs the pasta for you as he hears you and your grandma talk excitedly about it and thinks. you had reached the halfway point, and there was so much more you needed to figure out. the only things you had gotten for the baby were a couple blankets, a few onesies, and some toys they wouldn’t even need yet. eddie didn’t want to tell you it was stressing him out, but you didn’t even have a living situation figured out. 

when you came back into the kitchen you noticed eddie’s expression. he was in deep thought over something, and it was definitely bothering him. you grabbed his bicep gently, leaning your head on his shoulder. “what’s up, love?” you ask quietly. eddie shakes his head, snapping out of it and giving you a fake smile. 

“nothing, babe,” he mumbles, continuing to stir the pot.

you roll your eyes at him. “don’t lie, i know somethings up,” you say causing him to sigh. of course you would see through him. 

he leans his head against yours as he tries to gather his thoughts together. “i think i’m just stressed out,” he admits and you nod. 

“i know, love. i am too, but we’ll be fine. i know it,” you reassure him and he closes his eyes. 

he lets out a breath before deciding to tell you what he was most worried about. “babe, i just wanna know what we’re gonna do for a living situation. we have less than five months and just, if we want to find a house to rent we’re gonna need to start now,” he says, the stress evident in his voice. 

you pull away from him to have him turn and face you. “i was actually gonna ask you to move in, just didn’t know the right moment,” you say, holding his hand and swinging it. 

his eyes narrow in confusion. “move in here? we wanna live here?” he asks, attempting to clarify. 

you shrug, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look down shyly. “i dunno, i thought it would be easier. we wouldn’t have to buy new furniture, the office can be turned into a nursery, and lord knows my room needs updated so we could make it our room… but if you don’t want to-” you ramble and eddie cuts you off by placing his lips to yours.

“nah, i think that’s perfect,” he assures you when you pull away. you smile and lean into his chest. things were starting to fall into place. 

week 24

“i look ridiculous,” you whine, stomping your foot like a kid. eddie walks over from where he was buttoning his shirt and looks you over. he smirks instead at your outfit, reaching out to flick one of your udders.

yes. udders.

you let eddie pick your guy’s halloween costume this year and instead of picking a vampire and a mummy (because come on, that would’ve been perfect), he dressed you as a cow and he a farmer. shocking, i know. “i think you look adorable,” he said, reaching up and adjusting the cow ear headband you were wearing.

  you scanned yourself, harshly picking at everything you hated about yourself in this and your eyes began to water. “i look fat!” you exclaim, eddie looking back down to tuck his shirt into his blue jeans.

  he snorts and tears fall from your eyes. he thought you were fat. “well, baby, cows aren’t exactly skinny so you just fit the costume extra well,” he tries to tease, not thinking about how it could come off.

  you burst into tears and let out a sob. “i look like a cow,” you cry, pulling at the extra fat on your thighs.

  eddie’s face drops at your cries. he twists your body to face him and pulls your arms from your thighs. “baby, baby no. hey, it’s okay. you’re beautiful, hunny,” he says, wiping tears from your cheeks and pulling you into his chest.

  “you just said i look fat,” you cry into his chest and eddie frowns, replaying his words. 

  “oh, god, baby. i didn’t mean it like that i swear that. you’re not fat you just got a pregnancy belly. you’re making a baby and you’re healthy for it, you’re exactly where you should be. you’re not fat, shh,” he coos, holding your head.

  you fist his flannel shirt, crying harder. “i’m gross,” you sob, and eddie feels panicked. he didn’t know what to do. he knew this was just your hormones making you overly emotional but he still felt like shit for making you feel this way.

  he kisses your head and holds you tighter. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel bad. you’re not gross, baby. i promise you look beautiful. please don’t cry,” he begs. why the hell did he chose this for your costume? he was never taking ideas from a magazine again.

  “i don’t wanna go to the party. they’ll all think im fat,” you say into his chest, sniffling.

  he frowns harder, knowing you were super excited for this. “hunny, no they won’t. come on you’ve been talking about this party all week,” he says, pulling you away from his chest to look at your eyes.

  you shake your head no, wiping away your tears and makeup. “m’too ugly,” you cry and eddie’s heart fills with pain.

  he gives you a stern look and grabs your face with one hand to get your attention. “you are not ugly. don’t you ever say that again. you’re beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, and everything else. never say you’re ugly, i never want to hear that come out of your mouth again,” he says, trying to reassure you.

  but his words were very harsh and scolding which caused you to whine and cry harder. you clamped your eyes shut and sobbed as eddie’s stomach dropped. “i'm sorry, eddie,” you cry, feeling like you’d disappointed him.

  “fucking shit,” he groans to himself, getting pissed off at himself for not thinking before talking. “no, baby, no. don’t be sorry. i'm not mad at you, i swear it. i just want you to know you’re stunning,” he tries, pushing some of your hair back. “baby, please calm down,” he whispered, biting on his lip.

  you fell back into his chest and he stroked your hair until you finally stopped crying. “im sorry,” you muttered, throat sore.

  eddie shook his head, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “stop, you don’t need to be,” he whispers, holding you tight. god damn you hated pregnancy hormones.

week 27

  eddie bit his lip as he nervously tapped his fingers against the counter, waiting for a worker to show up. the store wasn’t even that big, where the hell could they be? just then he saw joyce byers coming up from the back. “oh no, how long have you been waiting?” she asks, feeling bad for taking yet another smoke break.

  “not long, um, i called about the pregnancy pillow?” he said quietly, looking down at the counter.

  joyce beamed, grabbing the box behind the counter. “oh it’s for y/n? how is she?” joyce asked excitedly, punching the price into the till.

  eddie smiles, relaxing a bit. “pretty good, the pains are really starting to hit her though,” he explains, motioning towards the pillow. 

  “i hope they ease up, when i was pregnant with will it was like i was almost always in pain,” she says thoughtfully.

  eddie nods, handing her the money for the pillow. “i hope so too,” he says.

  joyce behind counting his change before speaking back up. “do you guys have anything for the baby yet? i’ve still got some stuff from when jonathan and will were babies if you wanna come look through it?” she offered, handing his change back.

  “that’d be awesome, actually. i’ll have y/n call you,” he says, grabbing the box. he brings it home, walking straight to your now shared bedroom. you’d taken out your old floral pink wallpaper and opted for a darker grey instead. most of the other stuff was the same except for new sheets and another dresser. it’s not like you could focus your money on redoing your room at the moment.

  you were sat reading a pregnancy book while eating chips on your bed when you felt eddie drop something heavy by your feet. “what’s that?” you ask, lowering your book.

  eddie smiles and leans down to give you a kiss before pulling out his pocket knife. “it’s one of those pregnancy pillows, supposed to make things more comfortable so you can sleep,” he explains, cutting open the box.

  you sit up, watching him pull the very squished large pillow from the box and set it on the floor so it could expand. “you didn’t need to do that,” you pout, pushing yourself to stand.

  eddie shrugs and wraps his arms around you. “want you to be comfy,” he says, resting his head against yours.

  you feel the tears well up in your eyes again, and it makes you roll your eyes. “thank you, babe. i love it,” you say and kiss his lips.

  “oh! and joyce told me we can go through some of her old baby stuff and have whatever,” he adds once you pull away. you smile again, loving how excited he was over things.

week 28

  “okay but what are you naming the baby?” steve asks, sitting on your couch with his feet propped up. robin points at you with raised eyebrows, also wanting to know. 

  you place your hands on your stomach and look down. “we haven't really talked about it,” you shrugged as eddie walked into the room. he handed you your juice and you thanked him quietly.

  he sits in the chair across from you and throws his feet on the coffee table as well. “what haven’t we talked about?” he asks, popping the cap off his beer. 

  max jumps in the conversation from the floor. “we wanna know what you’re naming your baby, but y/n said you haven’t talked about it,” she says, looking at him expectantly.

  eddie looks around at everyone’s eyes on him before looking to you. “we haven’t, i mean i assumed it was something we’d think about once they were born,” he says cautiously, hoping not to upset you.

  “they’re just kidding, obviously they’re naming the kid after me,” dustin says, holding his hands up.

  you look at him in disbelief along with the rest. “dustin, i love you like family, but i am not calling my child dusty. i am not doing to my baby what claudia did to you,” you say seriously, causing everyone to crack up.

  “well do you guys have any ideas?” mike asks, finally showing interest in your pregnancy. you look to eddie, also wanting to know if he’d been thinking about it.

  eddie snorts, taking another drink of his beer. “obviously, but they’re staying private. you guys can find out when she’s born,” eddie says, enjoying making everyone mad.

  “she? how do you know?” will asks, seemingly the only one who picked up on it.

  everyone gasps, falling into excited little side comments. eddie rolls his eyes at their antics. “we don’t know, y/n just has a strong feeling it’s a girl,” he explains.

  everyone lets out ‘ohs’ of realization. “wait, y/n, do you have name ideas?” lucas asks, realizing you hadn’t answered.

  “of course i do, but like eddie i’m not spilling,” you tease causing everyone to groan in annoyance.

  “we are talking about them once everyone leaves, right?” eddie asks, pointing to you.

  you laugh slightly at him and nod. “yes, you don’t count dingus,” you reply, causing him to playfully flip you off with a smile.

week 31

you huffed, frustrated tears falling from your eyes as you fell back against the wall. you were trying to put together the changing table you and eddie found at a thrift store and now that you wanted to get up you couldn’t. you looked around at the practically empty nursery and it made you cry harder. you felt like a failure and you hated it. 

you sat, crying continuously on the floor for thirty minutes until eddie got home from work. he heard your cries, sending him into a panic as he rushed from the kitchen towards your cries. “babe?” he called frantically, bursting in the doorway. “are you hurt? what’s wrong?” he asked, crouching in front of you and pulling your hands from your face.

“not hurt,” you cry, wiping your tears and shaking your head. “i can’t get up, i’m too big and i can’t get my fat ass off the floor. please help me,” you cry, holding your hands out to him.

eddie frowns, grabbing ahold of your forearms. “oh, sweetheart,” he says softly, shuffling back to help you stand. you finally get up with his help and a huff. “what were you doing on the floor?” eddie asks, holding each side of your face.

you gesture to the mostly built changing table (which was quite well done to be honest) and sigh. “i just wanted to get this changing table made,” you mumble. 

“babe, you know you’re not supposed to be doing stuff like that. you’re not supposed to put yourself in strenuous or stressful situations, that’s what i’m for,” he says, serious but adding a joke. 

your lip quivers as you feel anger and sadness flood your body. “i’m not stupid, i’m not gonna kill our baby,” you say flatly, grasping your bump. 

eddie lets go of your face to instead grab your arms. “hey, i never said that. i don’t think that,” he reassures you, trying to get your attention. “but really, y/n, you gotta let me do this type of stuff,” he pleads.

“but you were at work,” you mutter.

eddie nods, scanning your face as his brows furrow. “yeah, i gotta be at work, baby. i could’ve done it when i got home,” he tries explaining. 

you shake him off, crossing your arms. “you’re always working,” you grumble, referencing the multitude of doubles, over time, and long hours he’d been picking up. 

eddie glares softly at you. “yeah, i’m trying to make money for us, so our baby can have nice things,” he states, the slightest bit of venom entering his tone. 

“but you’re never home, and-and it’s hard-” you start and eddie scoffs. 

he crosses his own arms, looking at you in slight disbelief. “what? you want me to drop hours so i can lay around with you and wait on you constantly? you wanna be poor and not be able to afford our baby?” he asks with raised brows. 

your hormones make you angry faster and his words punched a whole lot deeper. “i just want you around more, is that a damn crime?” you sneer.

“when i’m around all you do is complain and make me do shit. i’m tired too, you know,” he spits.

“you’re not pregnant! i am, which is your fault by the way!” you say, poking him in the chest. 

he glares at your finger, his jaw clenching. “it takes two,” he says in a deadly low voice.

your eyes flash with the tiniest bit of fear but eddie catches it. he was losing his cool. “i wish it didn’t,” you say with venom. eddie’s eyes show a flash of hurt and then rage. 

“you’re really gonna say that shit just because i work too much? that’s low as fuck y/n. like shit, what the hell is wrong with you? why are you being such a cunt? damn, is the baby even mine-” he starts, his voice raising with his words. 

your face drops at his words. no way he was bringing up the idea of you cheating, again. eddie notices your change in expression and his therapist’s words start flooding his mind. he closes his eyes as yours spill more tears and he takes a deep breath. “i didn’t mean that,” he whispers. you shove him with a sob, causing him to stumble and his eyes to fly open. he wants to yell at you, his fists are shaking, but he makes himself realize it’s you. it’s you and you’re scared. “y/n, i’m going to leave. i need to go cool down,” he says as calmly as he can. 

a sob leaves your lips. “you’re leaving?” you ask in fear, afraid your stupid hormones drove him away. 

eddie pushes past you in order to get out of the house. “just-just for a bit, i’ll be back when i’m calm,” he says, ignoring eye contact and leaving quickly. 

the whole hour he’s gone you spend worrying. you called every member of hellfire, sputtering about him leaving angry but none of them knew where he was. dustin offered to go out looking for him, but the idea of dustin riding around in the dark by himself made you cry harder so you didn’t let him. you had hyperventilated at one point, and now you were just sitting on your shared bed, hugging his pillow as you cried. 

your door creaked open slowly and your head shot up. “eddie,” you cried, pushing yourself up quickly and launching at him. he took in your state and felt his stomach drop. you collapsed into him and held him tighter than you ever have. “i’m sorry, eddie. i love you, i-i know you work so much for us and i appreciate it. i di-didn’t mean what i said, i wouldn’t want anyone else to be this baby’s dad. please, forgive me,” you sob into his chest. 

eddie grasps you tightly, burying his face in your hair. “no, don’t apologize baby, please,” he began. “i know your hormones make everything out of whack and i should’ve thought about that. i know you want me around more and i’m sorry that i’m not. you’re not a cunt, there’s nothing wrong with you, and i know damn well this baby is mine. i was just mad and saying things i don’t mean. i love you so so so much, baby. i’m sorry,” he says, gripping a fist full of your hair as he prayed you wouldn’t hold this against him. the two of you stood in each others arm for a while, trying to get ahold of your emotions

you pull away, shaking your head once you calmed down. “we both said things we don’t mean, but it’s okay. i think… i think you handled it,” you say, trying to show you recognized his efforts. he gave you a heartbroken smile with tears in his eyes. “but,” you say and his face falls again. “for the love of god, next time, tell me where you’re going,” you say, letting out a breath.

“sorry, i will,” eddie says, pulling you back to him. 

you laugh, snuggling into his chest. “had me calling everybody trying to find you,” you sigh into his chest. 

eddie frowns, kissing your head. “i’m sorry,” he whispers and you just shake your head, enjoying his hug. 

week 34

“merry christmas, sweetie,” you heard eddie say before a kiss was placed to your stomach. you smiled, opening your eyes to see eddie talking to your tummy. he looks up to you, smiling and climbing up to hover over you. “and merry christmas to you too,” he smiles cheesily, placing a kiss to your lips. 

“merry christmas, handsome,” you say as he pulls back.

he chuckles and sits next to you. “you know, you can’t try flattering me on christmas morning for better gifts. they’re already bought,” he jokes and you roll your eyes. 

you huff, snuggling back into your pregnancy pillow. “my goal with the flattery is actually to get you to help grandma start cooking so i can shower first,” you say pointedly and eddie groans. 

“fine,” he says dramatically before getting up to put on a shirt. you guys had a lot of preparing to do before the whole crew showed up for christmas around six o’clock tonight. by the crew, you meant eddie’s bandmates, robin, nancy, jonathan, steve, and the kids. was your house big enough for that? definitely not. but you were very persistent on hosting. 

you were hunched over the counter, adding the final touches to your casserole when a sharp pain shot through your back. “oh, shit, ow,” you curse, putting you hands on your lower back and pushing. 

eddie comes over to you and rests his hand on your shoulder. “what is it?” he asks, mildly concerned. 

you pout, looking at him before rubbing one hand over your now huge stomach. “your kid is trying to snap my back with how heavy they are,” you say and eddie frowns. 

“let me help then,” he says, turning you back to your casserole.

you furrow your brows and look back at him. “what are you-” you start, but eddie’s hands grab the bottom of your stomach and lift it upwards, holding the weight for you. “ohhh, my god,” you moan, head falling on his shoulder. eddie snorts at your reaction and kisses your cheek. 

“keep making your damn casserole,” he jokes, and you stick your tongue out at him before doing just that. 

that night was one of the happiest you’ve ever had. everyone was sat around, eating tons of food and sweets and swapping gifts and you couldn’t help but start crying. “you alright?” gareth asks, sipping some hot chocolate next to you.

you wipe your tears and nod, looking at lucas and will fighting over who got the better comics. “i’m just so happy that this baby will have such a big, loving family. like, i know you’re all not blood but… family isn’t just blood,” you say, watching eddie mess up dustin’s hair. 

“that is the cheesiest shit i have ever heard,” gareth laughs but wraps his arm around your shoulder anyway. “but yeah, this kid has an army,” he observes and you feel your heart soar.

week 36

you sat in the rocking chair in the middle of the community room at the library surrounded by tons of gifts. “guys, this is all too much,” you say, pressing your hands to your cheeks as jonathan takes pictures for you.

eddie shrugs from behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “i think it’s pretty cool,” he comments, making some of the guests laugh. 

“okay, okay shut up. y/n open my present first!” dustin calls over everyone. you roll your eyes fondly but agree. he claps and runs up, grabbing a big bag and bringing it up to you. “you’re gonna love it,” he says with a big smile. 

eddie flicks his hat causing him to glare. “let her open it, henderson,” he laughs about his eagerness. you pulled the tissue paper out and grabbed the first box out, gasping at the picture. 

“a sling!” you cooed, showing it off. 

“the fuck is that for?” eddie asked, leaning down to look closer at it. 

you swat him and put the box on the floor next to you. “you can strap the baby to your chest so you don’t have to hold them as you walk or do the dishes or something,” you explain, reaching back in the bag. next you pulled out a box of little essentials such as tweezers, a baby thermometer and so on, dustin explaining his mom picked that out. the last thing you pulled out was a very shit-ily, homemade book of coupons for babysitting. “awe, dustin,” you coo, tears coming to your eyes. 

you hold out your arms and dustin gives you a hug, smiling and feeling proud of himself. “yeah, i’m not letting dustin watch the baby,” eddie comments, flipping through the coupons of dustin’s bad handwriting. 

“oh yes we will, once the baby’s a bit older though,” you say, giving dustin a reassuring smile. 

el walks up to the two of you next, shyly picking out her gift. as usual, she was quiet, and she was the one out of them all that you were the least close to. her gift consisted of a few packs of bibs, some binkies, and burping cloths. “thank you, sweetie,” you said, putting them back in the bag and giving her a hug. 

gareth, jeff, and ricky put their money together to buy a really nice baby bouncer and a couple outfits. mike and nancy got you a play mat and some more clothes, and karen bought lots of diapers and that made you cry. lucas got a nightlight, some baby books, and a winnie the pooh onesie.

“alright, unwrap mine,” steve says, shoving the box towards you. you laugh at him and begin tearing off the paper and feel tears leak from your eyes immediately. 

eddie helps your tear the rest of the wrapping paper off and places his hand on your thigh. “steve,” you say with a pout, crying at how sweet it was. 

steve chuckles and pulls you into a hug. “please, why do you think i was pressuring you into waiting until after the birth to buy the stroller? i picked the best one, duh,” he says and you sniffle. 

eddie stands up, pulling him into a bro hug and holding it for a bit longer than normal. “thanks, man,” he says, giving him a genuine smile. robin practically throws steve out of the way and places a bag in your lap.

you laugh at her eagerness but start opening the gift anyway. she had gotten the two of you some toys to connect to the stroller, along with a couple knitted hats and booties and a pack of bottles. “these are the cutest, robin, thank you so much,” you say, admiring the bottles with little elephants on them. 

max stands, bringing her gift to you. you smiled at the cute bath set she had gotten and eddie gives her a big hug, rubbing his knuckles into the top of her head until she starts cussing him. 

wayne wasn't able to make it sadly, but he had already gotten you guys a lot. most importantly he paid for the crib and got you the rocking chair you were currently sitting on.

you didn’t even know where to start with the byers. joyce specifically gave you a nice diaper bag, new crib sheets, and diapers. from will and jonathan, you got a multitude of outfits, some toys, and a some swaddles. your heart was full of love once again because of this group, and you couldn’t wait for them to meet your little one. 

week 37

you pulled the frozen pizza from the oven and sighed, ready to eat your lunch and take a nap. you’d just finished your last day of work and your feet hurt. you put the oven mit down and grabbed the pizza cutter from your drawer and began cutting the pizza. 

all of a sudden, a gush of liquid seeps out of you. you gasp, looking down to see the clear puddle on the ground. at first you thought you just peed yourself, but this was not pee. “grandma!” you yelled, shaking as you look at the puddle. your grandma walks in, seeing it and gasping. 

“your baby’s coming,” she says happily, coming over and taking the pizza cutter from you. “go put on some clean clothes, i’ll call eddie at work, okay?” your grandma says, rubbing your arms.

tears fill your eyes as you shake your head no. “it’s too early, i still have three weeks!” you panic and your grandma shushes you. 

“hey, hey, don’t panic okay? it’s not too early your baby will be just fine, you know you were three weeks early too right? so was your momma,” she comforts you and you try taking deep breaths. “go change, make sure your bag is ready,” she says and you nod, turning and waddling away as she goes to call eddie’s work. 

eddie is flying in the house fifteen minutes later, eyes blown wide in panic. “the baby’s coming?” he asks, stumbling into your shared room. 

“my water broke,” you confirm, sniffling since you were still panicking. 

eddie looks at you for another moment before walking over to see what you were shoving in your bag. “but its-”

“three weeks too early, i know,” you say, wiping your eyes. 

eddie runs his hands down his face. “fuck, okay, woah, shit, this is happening. okay, you got everything, what do i need to do?” eddie rambles. he feels like he’s shaking with nerves and he can tell by your body language that you’re freaking out on the inside. 

“um, i think we can go, i haven’t had a contraction yet so we don’t need to speed. please. don't speed,” you say, grabbing your bag. 

eddie gulps, grabbing the bag from you and kissing your forehead. “let’s go have a baby,” he tries to smile at you and you nod, giving him a shaky smile and grabbing his hand. 

after being in labor for twenty-five hours you were finally able to push. you hated that eddie couldn’t be there with you while you brought your baby into the world, but that was just how it worked in the 80s. thanking every god in the sky, your baby cried immediately. “it’s a girl, momma,” the doctor said with a smile, causing you to cry tears of joy instead of pain. “get her cleaned up and bring daddy in,” the doctor says to her team around her and they nod. 

eddie rushes in the room and to your side, gripping your hand tightly. “you did it, holy fuck, baby, you did it,” he says, tears leaking from his eyes as he presses his forehead to yours. you were laying back flat, still in pain but you didn’t care. you heard the sounds of your baby crying getting louder and eddie’s eyes snapped up as a nurse leaned down to place the little bundle in your arms.

“here’s your daughter,” the nurse says sweetly, and eddie gasps. 

you sob, holding the tiny pink swaddle in your arm. “hi, baby,” you coo, bringing your finger up to stroke her tiny nose as her cries immediately begin to cease while in your hold.

“we have a baby girl,” eddie croaks, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, hunching over to place his hand on the swaddle. 

the doctor stops at the foot of your hospital bed to catch your attention. “she’s a little on the smaller side, but nothing that worries me. we’re gonna take her in a couple minutes for testing, just to be sure,” she smiles at you and the two of you nod. 

you sniffle, watching her little mouth open in a small yawn. “oh my god, you’re so tiny,” you cry and eddie covers his mouth with his hand. 

eddie reaches down, touching her soft cheek with the pad of his pointer finger. “so sweet,” he mutters, immediately in love with the small baby. 

“here, babe, you hold her,” you choke out with a smile, raising your arms. 

eddie bites his lip, terrified to hold her but reaches down anyways. you carefully transfer the baby to his arms and eddie lets out a sob at how light she is. it was all so real now. “oh my ozzy,” he mumbles, tucking your baby into the crook over his elbow. 

they take your daughter for some testing a few moments later, leaving just you and eddie in the room. “so, do we know her name?” eddie asks after he stops crying. he’s holding your hand, stroking your knuckles as he laid next to you. 

you smile up at him and nod. “i think we do,” you say and push yourself up to kiss him. 

melody belle munson

born: january 18th, 1987

weight: 6lbs 10oz

height: 18.9 inches

okay, yep. i'm in love. as you may have noticed, this is no longer a multi-part one shot. it's now a mini series :) i'll start the next part soon and it'll be everyone meeting melody, if you have any ideas for that (or any interactions between any of them and the baby) please let me know.

oh, and just because they're all happy and sweet now... doesn't mean they always will be...

those who wanted tagged/requested this part:

@marvelously-flawed @ayyeitssarahh @llmae @faithsreades @eddie-swhore @its-nowheregirl @moony-03 @fujiihime @asimpwriter @littletittygothgirl @teenyvee @todoroki-slut @whore-for-eddie @andrewgarfieldsspidey @rainazinha @lupitabarber @ladymoxley @aphr0d1teh @kaitioo @eddiemunson-1971 @picklepenis @cherriebat @alexandraoonaghives

#stranger things eddie #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things s4 #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #stranger things netflix #stranger things vol 1 #eddie munson dad #eddie munson pregnancy #pregnancy #pregnant #pregnant reader #female reader #reader insert

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting to bother my best friend after getting stranded in his state?

I (19NB) recently took a birthday vacation with my mom to visit my online best friend and platonic partner (20NB) IRL for the first time. I had a lot of fun and made a lot of fun memories, and he was really accommodating of all of my physical disabilities. We'd been best friends for around two years before this, and neither of us had any real IRL friends so doing stuff together in-person was really fun.

I was going to stay a few nights at my friend's place, go to my mom's hotel room the night before our flight back home, and take an Uber to the airport. That was our plan.

The day before I was to depart, my flight back home had been cancelled. No problem, I would just reschedule to come back home a couple days later and my mom agreed to it.

Now, I didn't agree with my friend to spend any more time with him than we had already planned. He has two working parents and he has college to attend as well. I was going to spend the rest of my time on vacation with my mom unless he wanted to spend extra time with me when he was free to.

While on vacation, the airline cancelled my flight home again and there were no more flights back. This came out of nowhere, and I had to update my mom and my friend that I was staying longer in his state than expected. We scheduled another flight from a different airline, but now our vacation has been extended by, like, two-three days extra. So I spent the extra days with my mom at her hotel room.

My mom argued that my friend and his parents were being unfair to me by not letting me stay at their house during the extra days we were stuck here since they only lived twelve minutes away.

I argued that it would be rude of me to interrupt someone's schedule just to keep me entertained, especially since we didn't agree to spend this extra time together. He and his family were busy and it wasn't their responsibility to spend time with me even if it was my birthday vacation.

My mom got upset and demanded that I call my friend and ask to stay at his house since it was 'the least they could do for us while we were stuck here'. He was busy that day, and I felt very embarrassed for asking, even if it was just to make my mom calm down.

The next day, my mom once again got angry that, according to her, 'we were wasting our vacation' by not spending time with him, and essentially forced me to ask again. This time, he agreed. It was still fun, obviously, but I apologized the whole time and it felt a bit awkward since I didn't really plan on spending extra time with him.

My mom still thinks that I should've asked to hang out more than I did, but this is someone I already spend several hours a week calling on Discord with. It felt very unfair to me to spend time with someone out of obligation rather than genuinely wanting to. Luckily we did end up enjoying that extra time together, but both of us were initially reluctant about it.

I understand where my mom's frustrations came from, given that the point of the vacation was to spend time with him. My mom paid for the vacation as a birthday present for me, which is why I'm unsure if I'm the asshole or not.

So, was I the asshole for not fighting to spend extra time with my platonic partner/best friend?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[trollprincess]

Okay, so some of you might not know this because I did this before I returned to Tumblr from the bird site, BUT. Last year I dictated almost two entire books to my phone.

Let me explain. One of my jobs is a twelve-hour weekend night shift. Six PM to six AM Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so thirty-six hours with the other four hours paid just as long as we do the entire weekend. I first took it so I could have the rest of the week off, and then proceeded to go back to work at dog camp those days. For the most part, over the last five years, I have only have Mondays completely off solely because that’s when my therapy sessions are.

Anyway, my weekend job is full-time, dog camp is part-time. The weekend job is factory work, making helmets, a lot of which are for the military. (Which, as a pacifist, I manage to stomach because hey, it’s just protective gear.) The thing is, like a lot of manufacturing work, it’s boring and repetitive. Think about how bored you are after five or so hours of an eight-hour shift. Now imagine it’s one o’clock in the morning, you still have five hours to work, and you would literally rather shove nails in your eyes than work. It sucks.

Meanwhile, my free time is spent trying to work at my third job (making @disasterarea-podcast) and attempting to work on getting published. I had all these grand ideas about getting traditionally published back in my twenties, and now I’m 46 and I’m struggling just to come up with any ideas at all a lot of the time. Three jobs doesn’t help. Depression and anxiety don’t help. So for a while there, I had terrible writer’s block when it came to my novels.

So last year, I decided to try something. I have these massive baby-pink noise-canceling Bluetooth gaming headphones with a mic which I wear to work. Why not try dictating a first draft to my phone? Obviously it wouldn’t be exact, since voice-to-text dictation isn’t perfect under the best of situations, and certainly not with loud factory noises around you. But I tried it on dictating notes for my podcast a few times and it worked pretty well, all things considered. And a bad first draft is still a first draft.

So I figured, fuck it, and one night I just started dictating a story off the top of my head. No preparation, no outlining, no worldbuilding - just pantsing HARD with nothing but an annoyance following a Teen Wolf rewatch and a resolution not to edit until after I churned out a first draft.

It took fifty-one days.

Eighty thousand words or so later, I had a dreadful first draft which needed an absolute fuckton of editing and continuity correction and character work. BUT I had a finished first draft of a novel. Which is something I hadn’t had in a good long while.

So I tried it again for NaNoWriMo. I got up to 65k words. So I won NaNoWriMo, but I put the story aside because I hit a bit of a wall. Still! That’s almost two full fiction manuscripts in one year, AND the nonfiction memoir I wrote about my road trip to disaster sites during the pandemic. 2022 was a good writing year.

So I did what I do with first drafts and put them aside for a while. I knew they were awful. I knew they needed a ton of work. And maybe that was a tad intimidating, which is why I only JUST picked up the NaNoWriMo first draft to work on it and finish it off. It’s queer, it’s got time travel, it’s got disasters. It is right up my fucking alley. I may be just a tiny bit obsessed with that story.

Unsurprisingly, going through it now is taking more than a little while. I sit down, I spend an hour working on it, I maaaaaaybe get two paragraphs polished. If that.

But the fact that I’m working on ANY fiction is kind of remarkable. And fingers crossed, maybe I can get this damn thing, and the other manuscript, AND my road trip book, finished and polished over the next year so I can submit the fuck out of them.

NOW. Someone send me a twenty-pound bag of rooibos vanilla chai and ten pounds of red licorice laces. Mama’s gonna need it. *cracks knuckles*

#writing

[hygge-ao3]

Codependent? Maybe Just A Little

Summary: Dan leaves to go on tour and Phil’s a little bit of a mess.

Written for Phanfiction Bingo 2023

Square: Crying

Rating: Everyone

Triggers/Warnings: None

Additional tags: fluff, crying, leaving home, WAD tour, established relationship, reality

Words: 1,285

Read on ao3

Ever since Dan brought up the idea of a solo tour, Phil had been dreading the day when he had to leave. 

At first, Phil assumed he would be going with him. They did everything together, after all, and their first two tours were some of the best moments of Phil’s life. Why wouldn’t he join Dan for something as big as his own solo tour? It never even occurred to Phil that maybe that wasn’t what Dan wanted this time. 

When Dan told him he wanted to do this by himself, just as Dan, Phil’s heart broke a little. Phil had been excitedly talking about what cities they could visit again and the things they could see that they had to skip during the last tour. Dan only gave him a sad look before shaking his head. 

“I kinda want to do this on my own,” he had said quietly. 

Phil blinked at him before responding. The words took a while to sink in. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Now that the ‘Dan and Phil’ era is over, I kinda want to grow my own brand and figure out what that looks like. Not that I don’t want you there, obviously, but I think it’ll be good to spend some time apart before we actually become conjoined.” 

Phil knew he was right. He didn’t want to hold Dan back in furthering his career or even his growth as his own person. Deep down, he knew this would be good for Dan, maybe even good for them as a couple. For all of Dan’s adult life, they had been seen as a duo. Maybe it was time for Dan to figure out who he was other than the first half of “Dan and Phil.”

Their friends and family always joked that they were codependent. And maybe they were. They couldn’t go a couple of hours without texting the other when they were apart, and when they were together, they were always attached to the hip. You didn’t see one without the other. They were a package deal. 

The thought of not having Dan at home for several weeks scared him. He hated being alone and he hated being without Dan. What was he even supposed to do for two whole months without him? Dan would be off having the time of his life going from city to city performing for energetic audiences, while Phil did what? Bingewatched shows and lived vicariously through Dan’s stories? 

He knew he was being dramatic. They already had a trial run when Dan traveled around the UK and was gone for days at a time. Phil managed then. But, this would be the longest they had ever been apart after twelve years together. It was only for two months, but at the same time, it was for two months. 

And even though he had known this day was coming, that didn’t make it any easier once the day arrived. 

When Phil woke up, Dan was still asleep next to him. His eyes trailed over the parts of Dan’s skin that were exposed, memorizing each and every detail, as if he was afraid he was going to forget what Dan looked like. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the curls of Dan’s hair, causing Dan to stir.

“Watching me sleep?” he asked groggily. 

“Maybe.”

“Creep.”

Dan closed his eyes again, but shuffled closer to Phil and draped his arm across Phil’s chest. 

“Do you always snuggle up to people who creep on you?”

“Mhm. Need to get my Phil cuddles in.”

“Will—“ Phil picked up his phone to check the time. “—three more hours of Phil cuddles hold you over for two months?”

Dan groaned. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because you wanted to create your own brand and figure out what that looked like.”

“I guess.”

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan to bring him closer. 

“If you want me to come visit, say the word and I’m there. Just make sure you’re somewhere nice like Orlando or Seattle,” Phil snickered.

Dan lifted his head to look at him.

“What, so you can get a free vacation out of it?” Dan asked.

“Eh, maybe.”

“Now I remember why I’m leaving you here.”

Dan started to tickle Phil’s sides.

“Hey!” Phil exclaimed as he squirmed around on the bed. Laughter filled the room as Phil tried to escape from Dan’s relentless tickling. “Alright, alright! I surrender!”

Dan finally let up and they caught their breaths before settling back into the position they were in before. 

“I’m really gonna miss you, you know,” Dan said quietly after a while.

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss you too.”

They spent the rest of the morning just enjoying each other. They laid in bed talking about everything and nothing, shared a shower, made breakfast together, and decided to watch one more episode of an anime which Phil promised not to watch while Dan was gone. Those three hours went by way too quickly for Phil’s liking. 

“My car’s here,” Dan announced sullenly, and Phil’s heart dropped. His time with Dan was coming to an end.

Dan stood up from the sofa and looked down at Phil, a silent invitation for Phil to follow him to the front door where Dan’s luggage was already waiting for him. They walked to the door in silence. Their entryway became blurry as tears filled Phil’s eyes. 

He so badly wanted this to be a happy send off for Dan. This was an exciting time for him. But, Phil couldn’t fight his trembling lip and the tears that were about to fall as he looked at Dan.

“I’m going to text you so much that you’re going to get tired of me.”

Phil shook his head as the tears finally fell. “Not possible.”

Dan opened his arms and brought Phil in for a hug. They couldn’t prolong this, as much as Phil wanted to. A car was waiting outside. 

Phil finally stepped back and wiped his eyes. There were tears in Dan’s eyes now, as well. 

“Let me know when you get to the airport?” he asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Love you,” Phil leaned in for a quick kiss. “So much.”

“Love you, too.”

They stood there and looked at each other, both with glassy eyes still. The look they shared said many things. From Phil, have the best time, I’m proud of you, and I’ll try not to miss you too much. And from Dan, I promise I won’t have too much fun without you there, two months will be over before you know it, and for the love of god, please water the plants. 

Dan gave Phil a sad smile before he opened the door and picked up his luggage. 

Phil watched the entire time as his luggage was placed in the car, as Dan opened the door and got in, as Dan gave him a small wave goodbye, and as the car drove down the road until he could no longer see it. 

When he went back into the house, it was too quiet. He could hear the buzzing of their lights and the humming of their appliances. There was no Dan. Maybe he could put on some of Dan’s old liveshows just for a bit of normalcy, to act like he was still there. No, it had only been a whole sixty seconds since Dan left. He could do this. It would be fine. Maybe he could call his mum to get his mind off of it. 

When Phil walked back over to the sofa and grabbed his phone, he saw he had a notification. It was Dan. 

miss you already bub ❤️

#phanfiction #phanfic #phanfiction fluff #phanfic fluff #phanfictionbingo #phanfiction bingo

[findingahomeonthevolleyballcourt]

Finding a Never Ending Love for the Game

Finding something you really love is hard. For me, I was lucky enough to be guided by those I trust towards something that I ended up finding a true passion for. Four years ago, upon deciding to attend a local private high school (Presentation of Mary Academy), I made the choice to try something new for once in my life. For the twelve years prior, I had been a competitive gymnast, and never thought once about trying something new. When high school rolled around, that changed, and it changed fast. I was tall for my age, and was reminded of it constantly by my neighbors, who had met through college volleyball, and ended up getting married and having three children together. For them, volleyball was more than just a sport. 

After months of debating, I decided that I would try out for my high school's volleyball team. I had never touched a ball, or even watched the sport, but I felt like it was time to try something new. I announced the news to my neighbors (Kendra and John), who were elated that I had finally decided to give it a try, and put my height to use. Kendra and John were so eager to help me succeed, and pass on their love for the sport. Every Tuesday night for the rest of the summer, we would spend hours outside in the yard learning the basics. Kendra would toss balls for me, and her husband, John, would teach me how to properly approach when hitting a ball. My first memory of volleyball was the two of them debating over what position they thought I would be. John would say, “she’s definitely a middle,” while Kendra rebutted, claiming that I “was definitely an outside hitter.” Turns out, John was right. It became a tradition throughout the summer, and something I looked forward to. While neither Kendra or John ever held any official coaching positions, I like to consider them my first ever volleyball coaches. 

When September rolled around, I tried out for the Junior Varsity (JV) team at Presentation of Mary Academy. I was elated when I found out that I had made the team, and spent the next few months learning the basics. Halfway into my freshman year season, I was asked to practice with the Varsity team. This came as a shock, because I had only started playing a few weeks before. While this opportunity was exciting, it was also scary. I took it as a challenge, and sure enough, it all turned out to be great in the end. 

My sophomore year of high school, I was forced to transfer as my current school announced it would be closing due to financial reasons. This was terrifying, as I had worked hard to make Varsity at my current school, and didn’t want all my hard work to go to waste. I ended up transferring to the Academy of Notre Dame in February of 2020. A month after transferring, I was forced to go remote due to the Covid pandemic. I had also recently started playing club volleyball at Mill City, which was based out of Lowell, MA. I really enjoyed playing, and club volleyball was the next stepping stone. Because of Covid, practices were canceled and so were classes. For the next few months I was at home, I spent every free second passing a volleyball against my garage wall outside. I couldn’t go a day without touching a ball. During this time, my parents started to realize how serious I was about the sport. 

My Junior year of high school came around, and I was finally able to be back in the classroom and on the court with my friends. I made the Varsity volleyball team at my new school, and was selected to play for the Mill City 17’s National Team. My volleyball career started to take off this year. Balancing academics and athletics at my new school was hard, but I was up for the challenge. My senior year rolled around, and so did college recruiting time. Since I had started playing volleyball so much later than my peers, I never considered playing in college. I didn’t think I had enough skill or years under my belt. Turns out, this didn’t matter. I played for my high school team again my senior year, and was voted MVP of the league for the second year in a row. I was honored to be able to play for Mill City’s National team yet again, where I met some of my best friends, to this day. I started reaching out to colleges, just to see if I would even be eligible to play at the collegiate level. Endicott College had always been one of my top three choices during the college selection process. I loved the campus, the internship program, and the strength of the volleyball program. I dreamed of being a part of such a successful team. I reached out to Head Coach Tim Byram several times, but he never seemed to have much interest. For my position (Middle Blocker), I am rather short. Most girls are at least six feet tall, and a five foot, ten inch Middle Blocker is not very interesting to college coaches. 

In December of 2021, I attended a prospect clinic at Endicott, where I was able to play with some girls who were also looking at being recruited by Coach Byram. After the camp, Coach Byram invited me to stay and play with the team, as he thought I had potential. This was shocking, as I never thought I had the talent to be a collegiate athlete. Two weeks later, I was offered a roster spot and committed to play for Coach Byram on the Endicott Women’s Volleyball team. The love that I had for this sport had propelled me to work hard, and eventually helped me achieve what I had been dreaming of. 

The summer leading up to my freshman year of college, I worked harder than ever inside and out of the gym. I lifted every single day, to get my vertical up, as I was not as tall as the other girls. I knew that as a freshman (especially a shorter one), I had a very slim chance of earning court time. Turns out, my hard work paid off more than I could have imagined. After two weeks of dedication during preseason, I was placed in the starting line up. Starting in my first collegiate game was one of the most memorable experiences ever, and reuniting with my parents after that game was unforgettable. 

A few weeks into the season, while playing in a game, I turned to the door and saw a few familiar faces walking in. Kendra and John, my first ever “coaches,” had come to see me play. Tears started to well up in my eyes as I walked off the court after my rotation. It was a full-circle moment to see the people who inspired me to play, watch me play at the collegiate level. The love that they had for the sport was something they instilled in me, and that passion helped me get to where I am today.

This sport has taught me a lot about life and myself as a person. I am forever grateful for the connections that the sport has given me. I met some of my best friends through club volleyball, and have formed family-like bonds with my current teammates. When I first started playing volleyball, a fire was sparked inside me that continued to grow. I cannot imagine myself without this sport. It has taught me how to be a teammate on and off the court, how to communicate with others, and the importance of time management. While some days are challenging, I would not trade them for the world. Every team celebration on the court makes it all worth it. 

I have been dealing with an injury for the last six months, and remembering how much I love this sport has kept me motivated. It has been hard, and I’ll admit that some days I want to give up. But, I think about the fire that has started inside me. I have a passion so strong for this sport, and I know deep down that there is no way to give it up. I have worked hard over the past few years, and grown a lot. I know now that each challenge I face is preparing me for my future, both on and off the volleyball court.

[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room. 

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with. 

“Work trip? To Miami?” 

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?” 

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing. 

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention? 

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock. 

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed. 

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything. 

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest. 

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.” 

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….” 

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?” 

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.” 

He was not serious. He couldn’t be. 

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no. 

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.” 

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you. 

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?” 

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem. 

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. 

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had…. 

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you. 

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well. 

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts. 

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure. 

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you. 

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all. 

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you. 

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point. 

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--” 

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you. 

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he? 

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth. 

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!” 

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy. 

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--” 

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!” 

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining. 

“Fuck!” 

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….” 

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin. 

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest. 

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.” 

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go. 

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #twelve hours in miami #twelve hours in miami 1 #permanentcross #permanentcross fic #original writing

[atzsslut]

requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.

chosen prompt(s) : 

#1 - “Is that my sweater?”

#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader

genre : fluff 

warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn 

word count : 2.4k words

You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago. 

The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.  

Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now. 

As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan. 

Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages. 

chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]

chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]

chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]

Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets. 

Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;

“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”

“Oh, did you just wake up?”

“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”

“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”

“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”

“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”

The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.

Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit. 

Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer. 

You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable. 

And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker. 

Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet. 

It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug. 

“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”

“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist. 

And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car. 

You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”  

He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body. 

You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off. 

“Is that my sweater?”

And the realization hit you. 

A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul. 

You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in. 

In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”

However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned. 

“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”

“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented. 

In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you. 

“M’lady.” he offered, 

“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.” 

“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that. 

“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard. 

Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s. 

As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now. 

“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already. 

Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big,  bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you. 

You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.

Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside. 

The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc. 

And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’ 

But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you. 

You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact. 

“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”

He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you. 

You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home. 

Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together. 

We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up. 

But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint. 

And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,

“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point. 

The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground. 

He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest. 

It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point. 

He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning, 

“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”

Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion. 

“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?” 

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.

But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?

Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together? 

But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen. 

Until now. 

Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense. 

So, you took a small step forward. 

It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask, 

“Who’s stopping you from asking?” 

#stray kids #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan #bang chan fluff #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #bang chan x reader fluff #chan x reader fluff #chan x reader #chris bang fluff

[starsstruck]

like the sun coming out

part of the cloubusting universe. a continuation of the story of painter!harry and barista!mc. icy february mornings, valentine’s dates, and soft painting sessions. 

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, sexual content words: 9.3k

series masterlist

an: hello and happy valentines day💕  im sorry to be a day late but everyday is valentines if you want it to be <3 i hope this finds you well, this is again, just more sweetness because i cant help it. hope everyone has a wonderful loved fill day, happy reading, and as always let me know what you think 💕💕

You eyed the bouquet sitting by the pastry case. The red of the roses were bright, easily contrasted with the adorning baby’s breath – a classic bouquet that was probably sold out all over town considering the date.

Holding your mug high by your mouth in both hands, warming your cold fingers as you blew lightly over the hot coffee. Standing by the space heater that kept its place under the counter, reveling in the warmth before you had to open the café.

You glanced at your phone that sat on the counter, tapping the screen to check the time. 6:27. You had three minutes. And two minutes since you had last checked, two minutes and still no new text notifications.

Sighing, you leant back over the counter and watched the few cars drive by outside, spending those three minutes you had enjoying your coffee.

Sunday’s were always unpredictable. A lot factored into how busy a shift would be, the weather being the main factor. But then there were holiday’s which for whatever reason were even busier. So working a sunny Valentine’s Day, you could more or less determine that it wouldn’t be long before a line formed out the door. All you could hope was that the line ups would form in the afternoon, when you were free from work.

You weren’t that lucky.

An expected slow start, but as soon as the sun rose higher in the sky you found yourself unable to catch a break. And when Saya came in, it seemed to get even busier. Regulars, big families, couples going for walks – it was all expected but you still felt your mood worsen while your shift went on. It was one of those days, where you’d spill milk and drop cups, a day where nothing seemed to be going right.

The only good thing about a busy day is that time flew by fast. Soon it was just past two o’clock, and you were clocking out while eyeing the newly forming lineup that was officially no longer your concern.

Pulling on your coat, grabbing your bag, and sending one more glance at your phone, before you were heading out the door. There had only been a few notifications – none of them being the one you were waiting to see. You had decided that if Harry didn’t say anything to you by five o’clock, that you would text him again. Or maybe you should call.

You had texted him late last night, unable to sleep before your early shift, and the messages were still left unanswered.

It was only silly little fight, you couldn’t even remember how it had started, just a quiet annoyance. Something about you having to work all week, and suddenly he wasn’t answering your texts. But now it was now nearly twelve hours since it happened and you were growing worried that he was more upset with you than you’d initially thought.

Your walk home was cold, and slow, as exhausted manifested in the balls of your feet. You easily gave in to the overwhelming urge to pull off your boots and slide into bed for a moment as soon as you got home. Your music was still playing in your earbuds, moving it over to your little speaker as you pulled the covers up under your chin and rested your cheek on your pillow. A little lie down was very much needed at the moment. 

A faint buzzing echoed around you.

Consciousness came slowly. You groggily opened your eyes, peering out your window to see the sky still light, meaning your little nap couldn’t have been as long as it felt. You slowly realized that the faint buzzing was coming from your phone, which was likely buried somewhere deep in the duvet around you.

Searching for where the sound was coming from, you found the phone under your pillow as you flipped it up, seeing Harry’s name across the screen.

“Hello,” your voice was a bit shaky, after you had accepted the call and pressed the phone to your ear. Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling and rubbed the back of your hand over your eyes, no doubt smudging the makeup you’d completely forgotten about.

“Did I wake you?” Harry sounded like he was on speakerphone.

“It’s okay,” you cleared your throat.

“How was work?” His voice sounded clearer now.

“Busy,” you sighed. “People are stupid on holidays.”

“Too tired to keep plans for tonight?”

Your lips curved lightly, already feeling better at the lightness in his tone. “Thought you were mad at me.”

“Couldn’t be,” you could hear the smile in his own voice. “I’m sorry – for last night. I’m frustrated with my work and well, I was being petty, and selfish with your time –”

He cut himself off, as you raised yourself up over the mattress again to search for your phone charger.  “Not your fault,” you hummed, after plugging the phone in. “I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t be – can’t be mad at you for doing your job. So it’s a yes for tonight?”

You bit back your smile, even though he couldn’t see you. “Suppose so. It is Valentine’s day, isn’t it?”

“It is, yeah. And I don’t want to give too much away but I have a few things planned for us.”

“Bit of a romantic, aren’t you?”

You heard him laugh through the phone. “Been told that once or twice, yeah.”

Smiling, you bit the inside of your cheek. “What time?”

“Did you still want to lie down for a bit?”

He knew you well. “I can come to yours in an hour or so,” he continued, “and then we can head to the store together to grab some groceries.”

“That sound’s good,” you said, happy to hear you had a little more time to lie in bed.

“So I’ll see you in a bit?” He confirmed, as you checked the time on your phone and thought that maybe you should set an alarm, in case you fell back asleep.

“You will.”

After saying your goodbyes, you spent a few minutes checking your notifications before sleep sneaked back up on you. Another nap that felt like it could’ve been five minutes or five minutes took over your body, but the next time you woke up, you finally felt rested. In fact, you woke up with a smiling tugging at the corner of your mouth, giddy for the night you had planned with your partner.

Rolling onto your back, the calm you felt was quickly interrupted.

“Jesus!”

Your heart leapt through your throat. Quickly lifting your top half over the mattress, you let your weight rest on your elbows as the duvet bunched around you.

Harry was sitting on the other side of your bed, opened book in hand with his legs extended out over the duvet. His eyes were wide on yours, your exclamation clearly startling him as well.

You saw his mouth part, a gleam in his eyes as he peered down at where you were watching him with wide eyes. “Not quite.”

You felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest, trying to calm yourself down from the shock of seeing Harry, or anyone else for that matter, sitting in your bed.

He offered you a small smile with a quirk in his lips, placing his book down next to him and cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to startle you –”

You fell back against the mattress, lying on your back as you stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t anything new – him letting himself into your place. You each had the other’s set of keys, but this was surely a first that he had sat himself down next to you while you slept.

“When did you get here?”

He checked his phone, before glancing back at you. “About ten minutes ago – looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you just yet.”

“Well thank you for that,” you rolled your head on your pillow, smiling up at him. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Watching as the corner of his lips perked, he returned your sentiment. “Happy Valentine’s to you too,” he hummed, leaning over the small space between the both of you to press a light kiss over your lips.

He wrapped a hand around your shoulders, leaning down to kiss you once more. “Sorry again,” he murmured over your mouth.

You both pulled away with matching small smiles. “Let me go get ready,” murmuring quietly, you slowly pulled the warm comforter off your body. “I’ll be fast.”

Quickly crawling out from under the covers, going to get ready. You freshened up your makeup that had been rubbed off in your sleep, soft hues to accentuate your features as you took a little longer than planned when you attempted a different kind of eye look with your eyeliner.

Finishing with a small outfit change that you had already planned out ahead of time, a red silky skirt that hit just above your ankles, paired with a nice knit pink top that had little ties holding the front closed. You looked like Valentine’s Day had threw up over you and you loved it.

You were both soon exiting your apartment, hand in hand to the grocery store, and then back to his place for a nice dinner date together.

You had already planned on making a creamy quiche, filled with vegetables and a golden buttery crust. The dough had already been made ahead of time, only needing to take it out of the fridge so it could warm up a bit before filling it with all you wanted.

Wine had been poured, both already on your second glass by the time your dinner was in the oven.

Both impatient and wanting to exchange gifts, you sat yourselves down on the couch and handed each other your wrapped presents. Deciding on lowkey gifts, the two of you both having the same idea of gifting each other flowers as two bouquets now sat in vases on Harry’s windowsill.

He had gifted you a journal, thick paper bound together with a custom cover of his own art that he had gotten printed on a soft vellum. It was one your favourite painting of his, soft oranges that blended with light purples in a beautiful sun kissed sky. Vague outline of two silhouettes sat on the lower corner, two figures that blended with quiet blues and held each other close on a glowing empty street – two silhouettes who he always told you were the both of you.

Your gift to him was a thick light blue sweater, adorned with a small pattern of purple hearts over the front. You had immediately thought of him when you found it. Wanting to make it even more special, in orange thread you had embroidered the word “loved” right over the spot that would rest on his heart. He’d immediately pulled it over his head to wear.

Dinner had been followed by chocolate covered strawberries, those of which you had attempted to make yourself but had found to be not as easy as initially thought, a small mess of melted chocolate covering his kitchen counter to be delt with later. But that didn’t matter all that much not when you were sharing them with Harry.

Now you were both seated on the couch, a soft glow of candlelight around you mixed with the light coming from outside. You and Harry were curled up close together, both unable to stop looking at each other with heart shaped eyes.

“I’ve never really had a real Valentine’s day,” you’d told him, pouring yourself another glass of wine.

“Glad I could give you one,” he grinned at you, voice sounding melodic in your ears as couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked particular good, his hair falling softly around his sharp features, brand new seater fitting perfectly over his chest. “Though I think it’s you who makes it special.”

You only laughed lightly, both the wine and his words making your head spin. You were sat across from each other on the couch knees pressed together with the occasional brush of a hand over the other’s leg, like two magnets who had to touch each other.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he chuckled with his eyes narrowed on yours.

“Like what?”

“You know like what,” he swirled the rest of the wine that sat in his glass, tilting it back against his lips to swallow the rest of it.

Choosing not to answer him, you instead leant forward closer to him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped down to the expand of skin that led to the lowcut neckline of your shirt.

He mirrored you move, sitting forward and slowly closing the distance between the both of you. Your eyes dropped to his hand that had gone to rest over your knee, not thinking much as you rested your fingertips over his and traced the lines over his hand.

“I was thinking,” he hummed, hand dancing over your thigh.

You only nodded, watching him closely as you waited for him to continue.

“Remember our first date?”

You raised your glass to take a sip of the dark red alcohol. “Course I do,” you answered. “When you invited me over to paint?”

Harry nodded. Lifting an arm to rest over the back of the couch, you subconsciously shifted closer into his open side. “What do you say to doing that again?”

“You want to paint with me again?” You nudged his side with your elbow, a light teasing tone in your words. “With your muse?”

“I’m serious,” he laughed with a small shake in his chest. He rose from where he was sat next to you, going over to the corner of the room where he kept his boxes and drawers of supplies.

You rose from your relaxed position, sitting up straight on the couch. “You mean right now?”

He glanced over at you from over his shoulder, digging through his things for what he needed. “Why not?”

“Clothes are too nice to get paint on,” you laughed lightly, watching him pull out a small canvas and fully turn to face you.

“You don’t have to paint,” he murmured, walking back over to you and leaned down so that his face was at level with yours. “How about I paint you,” he pressed his lips to yours, “since y’look so pretty.”

“Sweet talker,” you hummed over his mouth, and he pressed one more peck to your lips before pulling away. “Where do you want me?”

“Where you are is good,” he shifted back from the couch, settling a short distance away from you with all he needed to paint. “Sit back – relax.”

Doing as he said, you watched as he got himself organized and was soon bending over a little blank canvas and laying colour reds and pinks all over it.

You were both quiet for a while – you watching him, and him dividing his time between watching you and the soft strokes of his brush over the canvas. Only the quiet hums of Vashti Bunyan filled the space of the room.

At one point, sweet soft little Cherry had bounced up onto the couch and sat with you for a moment as you covered her in affection, before she decided she didn’t want to be seen anymore and promptly left.

You had fallen into a small daze, not a tired one but a relaxed one, nearly entranced by the way Harry moved the brush so swiftly and delicately over the canvas.

After a while, you didn’t know how long, he murmured your name, head still looking down as he spoke lowly.

Only humming in response, you looked over at him as you watched his eyes flick up to yours.

“Skirts riding up a bit,” he spoke slowly, watching you with a gleam in his eyes.

“Oops,” you murmured quietly, “didn’t want me to move that much, right?”

He shook is head. “Don’t mind –” he shot you a sly little smile, and it could’ve just been the dim lighting but you were sure to have caught a little blush grace his cheeks.

You shifted your legs again, sliding your calves under your bum with a tilt to your torso, as the hem of the skirt rode up a bit higher. You saw Harry glance back down, as you were unable to help the teasing tone in your voice. “What is it?”

“Just distracting is all,” he didn’t look up at you but you could see the roundness in his cheeks that suggested his grin.

“Yeah?” You spoke lightly, moving again while you rose a hand to tug on one of the ties at the top of your blouse, pulling it open to reveal more of your chest. “Wouldn’t want that –”

He glanced at you as you cut yourself off, a short second of heavy eyes on you, following the gap that the fabric created with a dip down to the top of your breasts. You saw him pause, momentarily distracted before he looked back down to his painting with a shake to his head.

It was like that for a short while, a slow quiet game as Harry took longer and longer glances at you and you slowly teased him with soft movements. It was nearly embarrassing how easily you could get worked up over a simple stare, the intensity of his gaze that skimmed over your body always seemed to completely light you on fire.

Though it was him who gave in first, the painting not going nearly as smoothly as it was when he first started as he felt unable to think clearly, mind only occupied with thoughts of you. He found himself focusing on the curve of your lips, the dip of your chest, the way your eyes softened when his gaze met yours – he was unable to do anything but think about you.

Eventually, he placed his brush in his little cup of water, glancing back up at you for a beat before speaking. “D’you know what else I remember from our first date?”

Seeing him rise to his feet, he stretched out his legs before taking the few steps needed to be standing directly in front of you. You only looked up at him, tilting your chin up and watched him hover in front of you. He leant down and placed a hand on either side of you, palms dipping into the couch cushions.

When he leant lower so that his face was level with yours, you straightened out your spine a bit to sit completely parallel to him. He got impossibly close, tip of his nose about to brush over yours if you were to move half an inch.

“What else?” You whispered, watching as Harry flicked his eyes down to watch your mouth form the words.

“How it ended,” he closed the short distance, lips pressing over yours as when he spoke.

“You walking me home?” You pulled your head back an inch, eyes meeting his once again.

“Hmm,” he thought for a second. “The middle then.”

“May have to jog my memory,” you murmured, watching his lips curve up a bit before placing another kiss to your mouth.

You easily deepened the kiss, reaching a hand around him to grab over the back of his neck to pull him in for more. He remained hovering over you with his hands over the couch, mouths parting when you licked over his lips.

He tasted like the strawberries you had shared, a fruity sweetness mixed with the slightly bitter dark chocolate. You were sure you tasted the same – you wondered if you had a distinct taste that mingled with his when you kissed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his neck to brush your fingertips over the warm skin.

He leant into your touch, shifting closer in so that his face could be at level with your own. He easily deepened the kiss, one hand rising from where it was supporting him and cupped your cheek with a firm grip to tilt your chin up to his.

“Mm,” he hummed softly over your mouth, pulling away from you for a beat. He bent his knees and sank down to the floor in front of you, and you followed his movements with your own, head tilting down to remain at level with his.

“Started a bit like this, didn’t it?” Your lips perked at his words, feeling his other hand move up over the couch and onto your hip, hands freed to grab at you all he wanted now that he didn’t need to support himself up.

“Think I need a little more to remember,” you told him, feeling his fingers knead over the silky fabric of your skirt and into your rounded skin.

He gladly complied, craning his neck up so that your mouths could reconnect.

You felt hot under his touch. His thumb was tracing the soft line of your jaw until it was gliding the curve of your bottom lip, while his other hand circled around the small of you back and tugged you closer towards the end of the couch, closer to him.

You sighed affectionately into his mouth as he rested his forearms over your folded legs. He was pressing his weight over you, a welcomed touch that had you leaning in closer as you sought out more of his mouth.

Pulling away with a small suck over his bottom lip, you watched his eyelids slowly part open to gaze up at you with darkened eyes.

“Wait right here,” he muttered, suddenly standing up and walking away from you with a quick pace in his step. You watched him move to the kitchen, the expanse of his back was the only thing visible to you from around the corner. You heard him run the tap for a moment before turning it off, and he was back in front of you just as fast. Settling himself back on his knees between your parted legs, his hands wasted no time before feeling your bare skin once more.

You suddenly felt a flush overtake your body, at the realization of what he had just done. At the realization that he had just washed the paint from his hands.

“Are you done painting for now?” You rose one of your hands up and traced the line of his cheek as you spoke, fingertips rising to push back some of the hair that was falling over his forehead.

“Well, you are a pretty convincing distraction, sunshine,” he kissed over your chin, urging you to tilt your head up while his lips slipped down your neck. His wet mouth suckled over your skin, while one of his hands traipsed over your hips, doing his best to wrap his arm around them to tug you closer.

He suddenly pulled away, just as his teeth nipped at the skin above your collarbone while his hot breath warmed your chest. “I think that first time was,” he muttered, head hanging low between your two bodies, watching his hands flatten over your thighs. He squeezed your knee, urging you to unfold your legs and part them around him. “More like this.”

You did as he silently asked, bringing your legs out from under your bum and swung your claves over the edge of the couch. With your knees perfectly parted, Harry easily stayed where he was in front of you now encased between your legs.

Instead of skimming his hands over the fabric of your skirt like you thought he would, he instead rested his chin on the corner of your leg and brought his fingers up over the waistband and on to the skin that was hidden under your shirt. You watched in quiet anticipation as he raised the knit blouse up a bit higher, all while his breath heated your legs.

“You’re the sweetest thing, know that?” Harry murmured, twisting his head so that his lips could smooth over the spot above your knee.

You whined under his touch, feeling his mouth press higher on the inside of your thighs while your skirt slowly inched up, nearly completely exposing you.  

You placed your palms on the back of his hands that held your waist, grabbing a hold of his fingers to bring them lower down your body. He easily complied, gripping the silky fabric that covered your hips in his fingers as he slowly eased it up higher. He followed the hem of your skirt with his eyes, as more and more skin got exposed to him until the fabric was completely bunched up around the edge of your thighs.

You shifted over the couch, allowing the garment to move past your bum until it was bunched just bellow your waist. You didn’t move your eyes away from Harry, watching as his hands dropped to hold your bare thighs, his own eyes glued to your newly exposed centre.

“Sunshine,” his voice was breathless as his hands held the skirt over your form. “What’s all this?”

“It’s new,” you whispered, revelling in the way his warm hands moved over the curve of your hips and onto the delicate underwear that covered you. You keened into his touch, feeling hot under his hungry eyes. “Thought of you when I found it –”

He groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding around your soft skin until his fingers were brushing over the thin straps around your hips “Baby,” he said lowly, watching the way the swell of the skin moved under his touch. “For me?”

The underwear was a light blue mesh fabric, with thin straps that rose high over your hips and tied shut with little bows. In small patterns that covered the expanse of the front, was a delicate embroidery in light whites and oranges; a trail of white little flowers paired with bunches of oranges.

You bent forward, searching for his mouth as your fingers lightly held his jaw to move him closer to where you wanted him. He craned his neck up, mouth immediately finding yours, kissing you hotly while his hands roamed over your skin.

“Please tell me there’s a matching top,” he muttered into your mouth, fingers tugging at your blouse.

You placed your hands over his, promptly removing your shirt. He pulled back from you, sitting on his heals, watching you with heavy eyes while you pulled the soft fabric over your head and tossed it aside.

His hands remained firm over your hips, eyes eating up inch of your skin. He quietly dragged his fingertips up your sides, dragging them up onto the underside of your breasts as he watched the swell of skin move under his touch.

“Like it?” You hummed, meeting his dark eyes with a tilt of your chin.

The top matched the bottom, underwire of the bra keeping your breasts up as the cups were thin and sheer, covered in the same small colourful embroidered of oranges and flowers. Harry lightly traced the patterns with his fingertips, wanting to feel every inch of the bra.

He didn’t answer you, and only leaned in closer so that he could press his lips over your stomach, soft smoothing movements up to your sternum while his hands palmed over your breasts. He followed the embroidered detailing over your pebbled nipple with light teasing touches.

“You’re a dream,” his hot beath sent a shiver down your spine, lips smoothing back down once more as his hands got a firm grip over your thighs.  “Nothing I love more –” he inhaled deeply, “than being between your leg like this.”

He completely bypassed where you hoped he would end up, instead kissing up over the inside of your legs, hands smoothing on your thighs to give him more access. He dug his digits into the soft skin, lips replacing his touch as hot open-mouthed kisses licked over the sensitive spots.

You knew where he was headed, you knew he loved to play this game with you, but you were growing a bit impatient as he sucked into the inside of your thighs, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise a purplish red tomorrow.

“Baby-“

“Baby what?” He muttered over your thigh, loud kiss on the skin. “What d’you want? Tell me,” his tongue licked over your skin, a small nip of his teeth over the sensitive skin.

“Your mouth,” you whimpered, hands smoothing over his the crook of his shoulder and up over his neck in search for his hair to tug on.

“Where?” His breath was oh so hot, fanning over your skin in a way that you were sure would light you on fire if he continued. His fingertips toyed with the thin fabric that covered you, snapping the elastic over your skin as your breath hitched in your throat.

“You know –” you choked, feeling a new wave of heat shoot through your stomach when his hands wrapped around your thighs. “Just like our first date, right?”

“Right,” his chest shook with a soundless laugh, hands reaching behind to hold over your bum and tugging you even closer to him. He was so close you could feel the soft breaths of air leave his nose and tickle the crest of your thighs. You were sure that there was a wet spot forming over your new underwear, visible to the man between your thighs. “Want me to taste you, just like the first time?”

You hummed in the air, unable to form a proper sentence when his tongue poked out from his lips and he pressed it flat against your covered core.

“Was that,” he pulled his mouth away far to fast, “when you knew?”

His fingers were tugging at the soft straps that were tight around your hips, easing the fabric down ever so slowly. You let out a breathy sigh, “what?”

Moving his head back, Harry kept his eyes glued to the skin his fingers were uncovering. “Was that when you knew you liked me?”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, as you rose your hips up so that he could ease the flimsy material down your thighs. “That wasn’t it.”

He was so enthralled with the sight of you in front of him, that there was a slight lag while he processed your words. Moving back as your underwear hung just above your knees, glancing up to meet your gaze through heavy eyelids.

His swollen lips pouted. “When was it, then?”

Smiling down at your lover, your fingers found their way over his cheek once again, trailing over the curve of his cheekbone and down to his jaw. “When you kept bugging me at work,” you laughed slightly at the memory, “and when you wanted to stay and close the shop with me.”

Another kiss to your thigh. “And I really knew when you brought me those mandarin oranges.”

His eyes bore into yours, another exaggerated pout of his mouth. “That was after.”

“Well,” you hummed, nails scratching over his scalp, “had to make sure, didn’t I?”

“Guess you did,” he leant in even closer, a kiss right at the crest of your thigh that had your breath hitching in your throat.

You saw him move, but it was still a small shock when his mouth was felt over your folds. After a light lick of his tongue, he was pulling away within seconds.

He urged your legs to further part for him, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull to spread you wider. His mouth was back on you within seconds, tongue pushing against your clit with slow licks over the sensitive nub.

Mouth widening over your centre, tasting more of your arousal. A quiet moan escaped your mouth when he circled his lips over your clit, sucking with quiet determination.  

He had one hand gripping into your thigh, sure to be little crescent moon shapes left behind from his nails that would be indented as a reminder for how good he makes you feel. You let your head fall back, hitting the back of the couch with a near uncomfortable bend to your back, but you didn’t care. One of your hands was still mussing up his hair, tugging at the soft strands when his mouth felt particularly good against your clit.

Your other hand was being blindly sought after by Harry’s own palm, eyes glanced up through his eyelashes to meet your own with a sly smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. He seemed to wordlessly speaking to you, quiet lustful gazes before delving back in with slow, teasing movements through your folds.

His palm fit over the back of your hand. He held over you, moving your pliable hand to turn it in his grasp, fingers dancing with yours all while you both pushed into the seat of the couch.

“Hold m’hand,” his voice was muffled over your cunt, soft vibrations shooting up your spine both at the feeling of him speaking and the tenderness of his words.

You easily interlocked your fingers, palms pressed together as you dug your nails in the back of his hand when his tongue was back searching for the arousal that was dripping over your skin.

His moves into your cunt were slow, too slow. Tongue flattening over your folds with deep pushes into you, before soft teasing circles were graced over your clit. You were arching your back over the couch, hips seeking his mouth as you quietly begged for more. He alternated between pushing just over the entrance of your hole, sliding through the wet mess and up to your clit to pull beautiful moans from you.

“Taste so sweet,” his groaned, as you whimpered for more. “D’you like it when I eat your sweet little cunt like this?”

You rolled your hips up at his words. He often muttered sweet confessions of love, and dirty little thoughts. But when he got like this, when his words turned you to a mess of a puddle while he indulged the both of you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were melting under him.

The two of you had a certain kind of completeness when you had sex – a passionate unity that worked together. He would let you take charge when you wanted, so attentive to what you needed and loving nothing more than seeing you get off.

But sometimes you set off a certain stir deep in his stomach, that had him wanting to pin you down and be as unrelenting as he could until you were screaming his name.

His desire grew the louder you got, the desire to make you come and the desire for you¸ as simple as that. Every sweet vibration through your chest, every quiet whimper and every call of his name that you unashamedly whimpered out. He knew the more he teased the more desperate you’d get, and he also knew it wouldn’t take much asking on your part for him to give in to anything you wanted.

After a particularly harsh tug to his hair, he lifted his mouth from where it was paying you attention and you let out an even louder whine in the absence of his touch.  

“Harry,” you moaned sweetly, your eyes boring into his, both holding intense stares while you were positively begging for him. “Please make me come.”

His lips brushed over your thigh once again, looking up at you through his eyelashes as you pleaded for him to touch you. He didn’t say anything, and instead dragged his free hand around your thigh and to your centre, until he had two fingers dragged through the wetness created both by your arousal and his saliva.

You let out a heavy breath at the touch, chest quickly rising and falling while your heartbeat thundered in your ears. Harry watched as the swell of your breasts strained against the soft blue fabric, pausing for a moment as he wanted to keep your fingers interlocked but also wanted to feel up the skin of your chest.

Deciding on the former, he kept your hands together and pressed the back of your hand further into the cushions of the couch. His other hand was trailing lower, his fingers now slick with you around your entrance before he pushed into you with ease.

You moaned under his touch, the fullness of his fingers inside of you had you twisting your hips over the couch as you ached to feel him hit that delicious spot inside of you.

His mouth was back over the inside of your thighs, your skin burning under his touch when he kissed over the little red marks that he had earlier made, just as they were starting to darken in colour. He was all over you at once open lips back over your clit and licking deeply with determined moves of his tongue over you. His fingers slowly began to move inside of you, curling the two digits up as he gained a steady pace and repeatedly hit that smooth spongey spot inside of you that made your vision blur and your toes curl.

You were having trouble keeping your eyes open, letting your head fall back once more as your free hand pulled at his hair, subconsciously matching the brushes of your hand with his slow strokes. Your other hand was pulling at Harry’s, squeezing it so tightly as he was working you up.

The familiar burning in your lower belly was growing hotter and hotter, tight coil getting closer to snapping. You could feel his nose pressed against your pelvis, his chin bumping his own fingers after particularly harsh thrusts – he was completely buried between your thighs. You were sure to be making a mess over his lower face, the thought making you squirm even more in his touch.

Letting out a loud gasp at the low vibrations that were felt when Harry moaned, when he muttered quiet words that demanded all of your attention to figure out what he was saying.

“This what you wanted, sunshine?” He pulled his lips away, loud kisses over your thighs as he watched you slowly unravel under him, refusing to keep his mouth off any part of you.

He couldn’t choose where he wanted to keep his gaze. At your soft blissed out face with your lips under your teeth and fluttering eyelids, or at the expanse of your chest with the beautiful garment that graced your skin, or right in front of him at your swollen cunt that was shining in arousal and at the way his fingers sank into of you.

The music was still softly playing the background, a quiet secondary noise to every melodic moan that was sounding from your throat, the music in fact all but forgotten when obscenely wet sounds filled the space once more.

“Oh – Harry,” you moaned when his tongue was back over you, knowing you were growing closer to your release from the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Feels good?” He asked, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You whined with a nod, holding onto him as tightly as you could. “So good – fuck,” you moaned, hips bucking up when your climax was right around the corner. Words were spilling from your mouth, sentences jumbling without much sense. “Love you so –”

He hummed over you, his hand giving yours a few quick squeezes as he felt you clench around his fingers. Again, he murmured something that you couldn’t even begin to make out, focusing on his touch rather than his words.

“Y’love me?” His voice rang through yours ear, suddenly louder than your thundering heartbeat.

“Yeah,” your voice was a dreamy breath of air. “I do.”

He mumbled something that sounded like a “fucking love you,” before you were meeting your release against his mouth and around his fingers. He didn’t relent, mouth hot and open over you with continuous tugs to your clit as his fingers pushed so deeply inside of you.

You moaned low in your chest as you came, every touch of his skin on yours sending electricity through your nerves. Your legs jolted from around him at the sensitivity of your clit, as he kept sliding his tongue over the bundle of nerves while you calmed down from your orgasm.

Eyes parting open, you saw Harry pull away from between your legs as he fully sat back on his legs and withdrew his fingers from you. With his fingertips trailing down your thighs, he rose his slicked fingers up to his mouth to taste every last bit of you.

Your breath was coming out unevenly, and you nearly moaned at the erotic sight before you. His wet lips kissed your knee once more, his voice was low, laced with desire when he spoke your name. “How was that?”

You didn’t answer right away, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook with a happy laugh. Pushing yourself up from the couch, you used all the strength in your shaky legs to slide off the furniture and into the lap of your lover.  

“Just like the first time,” you breathed, words fanning over his chin as he easily held you in an embrace.

He felt like he was losing feeling in his legs, small soreness in his knees so he shifted you over him until he was able to extend his legs out over the floor and you could straddle his thighs. Completely removing the skirt, you tossed it aside as you were left in only your lingerie. Upon his request, you had slid your underwear back on instead of letting it fall to the floor. He hummed against you when you easily fell back into each other, lips seeking your mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.

Slowly grinding your hips over his, every inch of him hard underneath you could be felt. Harry rolled his head back on his neck, exposing the expanse of skin to you as you repeated the motion over his hips.

Taking the chance to lean in closer, your lips landed over his neck in light sucks of kisses. “Love you,” he whispered into the air, fingertips digging into the skin of your waist.

“Yeah?” You hummed over his skin, licking a strip up the column of his neck. One of your hands danced along his throat, tracing down until your fingers were following the dip of his collarbone and circling around his back. “Do you?”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, chin dipping down once again as his nose nudged yours when he sought out your lips.

Leaving kiss up over his cheek, you didn’t stop until your teeth lightly tugged at his earlobe. “How do you want me?”

You felt his hands brush along your bare back, slow and steady movements that juxtaposed with both of your rapidly beating hearts.

“Pull me out, angel,” he already felt your hands playing with the waistband of his pants, soft tugs at the rough fabric.

As your fingers made quick work to pull at the zipper of his trousers, he momentarily lifted his hands from your body so that he could pull his shirt up over his head. His skin was warm when he wrapped his arms around once again, shifting his hips so that you could move his pants and briefs down together in one swift move.

Having to lift off him so that you could completely let the clothes fall from his legs, you pushed the heap of fabric aside before quickly settling back into his lap. His cock looked painfully hard, a soft curve upwards that led to his raspberry red tip.

Your hands were on him within seconds, bowing your head in the small space between the two of you. Pursing your lips, you let spit fall from your mouth and onto his length. Sliding your hands over the wetness, Harry gently groaned your name with a tight grab at your hips when you squeezed him in your grasp.

“Please,” he quietly cursed, watching you with darkened eyes as another moan tumbled from his mouth. “Wanna feel you –”

You pressed a kiss over his cupid’s bow. “Like this?” You smiled gently against his mouth, “on the floor?”

He returned your smile hands on either side of you as he tried to pull you closer to where he wanted you sat over him. “Just like our first date, yeah?”

Breathy laugh at his words, you slowly nodded and shifted your hips higher. You were about to grab at the elastics of your underwear, going to pull them back down over your hips but Harry was quick to stop you. “Keep ‘em on,” he whispered, silly little smirk playing at his lips, “just push them aside.”

Folding your lips into your mouth, you bit back a smile as you knew he’d ask you to keep the bra on as well. Doing as he wanted, you rose a hand from his shoulder to pull the front of your underwear to the side, with the other hand still keeping a firm grasp over his cock. He was supporting himself up with on hand on the floor behind him, so that he could remain so close to you. His legs bent at the knee, making you edge towards him with your chests nearly pressed together, and the soft move prompted you to slide the head of his cock through your folds.

Easing him in with a slow move, you lowered your hips as he filled you so deeply until you were sat completely flush together. His chest shook with a moan as you did so, hands squeezing into your thighs as you both sat motionless for a moment.

He fit so deeply into you, with the slight stretch that always felt brand new. You rose your hands to wrap around his shoulders, nails nearly clawing at his skin to pull him in for a kiss.

“You feel perfect,” he moaned against your mouth, guiding your hips to urge you to move in small grinds over his. “Squeezing me so tight.”

With you both sat upright, he always felt even deeper inside of you in this position. You ground your hips in slow circles, starting to move in teasing grinds, before lifting yourself up over him and then back down in a sharper thrust than you’d intended.

You moaned over him, head falling into the crook of his neck as you muttered something about how deep he felt inside of you.

Repeating the motion, Harry planted his feet over the floor with an even greater bend to his legs that had your seated so fully against him. He met your moves, slow and sharp thrusts between your legs that already had you working towards a second orgasm.

One of his hands skimmed over your hips, sliding between your bodies with as his fingers applied a light pressure to your lower belly. His voice was gravelly when he moaned into your cheek. “Feel me right here?”

“Yeah,” you sighed dreamily, eyes shutting close with a harsh bite to your bottom lip. You tilted your head back up, another deep thrust inside of you. “Always so deep.”

Harry’s hand found its way to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing gentle action. He quietly urged you to open your eyes for him, to stare into his as he wanted you to see how good you were making him feel.

You saw him with slightly bloodshot eyes, cheeks tinted pink and a light dewiness to his skin. He looked so completely blissed out, corner of his swollen lips turned to a sly smile. Bowing his head down, he attached his lips to your collarbone and left a trail of wet marks over your skin until his teeth were nipping at the swell of your breasts that were spilling out from the top of your bra.

Arching your back in his touch, you slowed the movements of your hips again and went back slow rutting, clenching around him when he whined your name with a matching squeeze of his hand that had found its hold on your hip once more.

Without much warning, he lowered himself to lay completely on the floor, back resting over the soft rug as he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up any longer. He let his knees bent further with his feet on the floor, keeping you in your place as he was able to hit slow teasing thrusts up into you.

His eyes never left you, watching you sat so beautifully as both his hands now grabbed at your hips, guiding you over him. He found it hard to look away from where you were connected, watching his slick cock disappear inside of you. “So gorgeous, sunshine,” he was muttered quietly, “how did I get so lucky?”

Both of your motions were speeding up again, his thrusts meeting yours harder than before as he found that his release was coming right around the corner. He reveled in the way his name sounded from your mouth, as you clenched tightly around him with your own orgasm seeming to approach as well.

You had flattened out your hands over the expanse of his chest, giving yourself leverage while you moved over his length. Your head hung low, nails digging into his skin when he hit that spot inside of you that made your breathing falter. “Oh…!” You whimpered wetly, “there, there please.”

His stomach clenched tightly at your cries, feeling you squeeze around him his fingers matched the squeeze around your hips. He kept going, watching you fall more and more into a whimpering mess over him until he felt like he was about to explode.

“Slow down,” he choked, a harsh hold of your thighs in an attempt to stop your rapid moves. “Slow down,” he chanted, wild moves of his eyes between your own. “Stay like this for a moment.”

Doing as he asked, you completely halted and gave yourself a moment to catch your breath. Bending down, you laid completely on top of him which gave a nice ease to your knees. Pressing your chest flush to his, your chins bumped as you smiled down at him.

He didn’t miss any more time before pressing his sweet lips over yours, kissing you with all the desire that was apparent in his eyes. Your lips parted as he pushed his tongue against yours, tasting each other for what was probably the thousandth time but it always felt like the first.

Your arms were easily all over him, nails digging into the muscles of his arms as he kissed you deeply. He pulled back with a tug to your bottom lip with his teeth, licking over the sensitive skin after releasing the plump skin.

“My sunshine,” he hummed, lips capturing your chin as he moved further down your body. Kissing over your jaw, a soft bit over just under your earlobe as he knew every spot that made you whine.

With his hands guiding your hips, you slowly began to move around him once more. Straightening out your spine to rise to a seated position, you watched as one of Harry’s hands moved forward to cup over your core, right above where you were connected.

“Won’t last much longer,” he whimpered, already working right back near his edge as soon as you started sinking back down on him.

You moaned in agreement, also easily getting worked closer to your release when he dragged his fingers over your clit in quick circles. You were both finding another steady rhythm, hips pumping together as the noise of your actions filled the room, only seeming to spur you on.

“Please come for me again,” he moaned, begging to feel you squeeze him dry. “Wanna feel you – please.”

It was like something was opened inside of you, meeting your release as he begged from under you. Moaning his name with heaving breaths, feeling your walls clench around him when your orgasm took over your body. Your thighs tensed, eyes squeezing shut with a little smile painting your mouth at the euphoria coursing through your body.

“Fuck – it’s gonna be,” your movements had slowed over him as you came, while Harry spluttered nearly incoherently, “– I’m coming.” He warned, a sharp thrust up into you before he was painting your walls with his release. Sloppy thrusts inside of you while pulling at your hips, grabbing over the small of your back to hug you close while calling your name over and over like it was a song that was stuck in his head.

Your chest fell over his with a heaviness that neither of you minded, revelling the complete closeness you had to the other in that moment. His chest was rising and falling with quick breaths, lips over your hairline as he peppered the lightest of kisses laced with praises for you.

Eventually, you lifted your upper half and parted your eyes to gaze down at the man below you. Pressing your mouth over his, you felt him smile under your touch as you murmured a soft, “happy Valentine’s Day.”

His own eyes parted, watching you with nothing but love his in softened eyes, as you pressed another whisper to his mouth. “Thank you for being my Valentine.”

You’d always felt comfortable with Harry, but for some reason at this moment you felt better than you ever had with him. The way he looked at you like you hung the moon, the way he softly whispered your name as his lips sought to touch any part of you.

Harry returned the affection, quiet “I love you’s” pressed into your skin before you were moving off of him with shaky legs.

He followed when you rose to your feet, the painting long forgotten by now as you both went to the washroom to get cleaned up. Your makeup had been ruined once more, eyeliner smudged by your teary eyes so you ended up scrubbing it all off, completely your skincare before changing into a cozy stolen hoodie and settled into your partner’s bed.

Harry soon joined, only in a pair of sweatpants and the forgotten chocolates from earlier in hand. He settled in under the covers with you, as you both shared chocolates and chocolate flavoured kisses.

“How about you,” you started with a quiet murmur as your head rested over Harry’s shoulder. The chocolates were on your lap, one of Harry’s arms around you as peered down at you. “When did you know you liked me?”

You saw Harry’s lips perk from the corner of your eye. He thought it over for barely a second, before answering. “Is it too cheesy to say the first time I saw you?”

Nodding your head with a little laugh, although you melted further into him at the tenderness of his words. “Yes, it is too cheesy.”

“Fine,” his lips pursed with an overly dramatic pout, and he took another minute to think. “When I ran into you at the supermarket that one evening,” he thought back to the memory, “I remember seeing you choosing your vegetables like it was the most important decision of your life.”

You tilted your face, easily finding his lips to press a light little kiss to. “Well, maybe it was,” you whispered playfully, as he leant into your mouth when you pulled away.

Resting your temple of the curve of his shoulder once more, you kept your eyes trained on him. Harry held your gaze, mumbling quietly as his hands squeezed your arm. “You’re still looking at me like that.”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, unable to help the way your pupils were probably heart shaped at the moment. “Like what?”

“You know like what.”

Your smile deepened. “Can’t help it.”

Sighing happily next to him, you melted a bit more into his side as he held you closer. His lips smoothed over the top of your head, mumbling sweetly, “me neither, sunshine.”

Once again, the sweet little act of painting had led to something magical, a feeling of blissful joy you’d never thought possible until Harry came along.

once again, happy valentines to everyone 💕 thank you for reading 💕

#okay im off <333 #this is yea i think its okay i thin the ending i nice <3 #cb #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut

[cherrybracelets]

I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton 

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely. 

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic. 

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job. 

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence. 

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it. 

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect. 

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you. 

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls. 

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation? 

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do. 

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job. 

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth. 

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in. 

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention. 

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you. 

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”. 

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you. 

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…” 

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks. 

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.” 

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement. 

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly. 

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily. 

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky. 

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin. 

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat. 

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work. 

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. 

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had. 

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful  mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him. 

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost. 

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job. 

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

 They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you. 

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd. 

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him. 

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky. 

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance. 

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze. 

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke. 

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter… 

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office. 

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card. 

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand. 

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day. 

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here. 

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect. 

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him. 

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls. 

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy. 

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s. 

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice. 

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would. 

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing. 

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you. 

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table. 

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky. 

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk. 

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you. 

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly. 

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta. 

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention. 

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right? 

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky. 

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did. 

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it. 

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table. 

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk. 

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down. 

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?” 

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment. 

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush. 

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair. 

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on. 

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently. 

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter. 

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.” 

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away. 

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?” 

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch. 

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught. 

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…” 

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win. 

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin. 

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say. 

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from. 

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted. 

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger. 

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house. 

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice. 

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean? 

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge. 

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine. 

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth. 

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth. 

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way. 

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever. 

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in. 

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you. 

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions. 

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck. 

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw. 

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance. 

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly. 

“Water.” 

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him. 

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate. 

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement. 

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway. 

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate. 

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump. 

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth. 

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.” 

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address. 

Who the hell was James Barnes? 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 296: Ngl, This One Pissed Me Off

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “p.s. I actually activated yet another quirk several chapters ago when Kacchan got stabbed.” Compress was all, “[gets captured and passes out].” Spinner was all “[rifles through Tomura’s pockets and slaps a random Charbroiled Hand onto his friend’s unconscious face].” Tomura was all, “SOMEHOW THAT ACTUALLY WORKED” and woke up again, except it wasn’t really him, it was everyone’s favorite Final Villain, AFO. AFO was all, “time to escape finally” and summoned a bunch of Noumu and Absconded with Spinner and the DabiMarble in tow. Skeptic was all, “Horikoshi forgot I existed, but I’m actually Absconding in marble-form as well.” Deku was all, “ATTENTION WORLD, I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I OFFICIALLY WANT TO SAVE SHIGARAKI TOMURA.” And then the arc just sort of ended lol.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all, “but when you think about it, do we really need literally any female teachers at U.A. at all?” and for whatever reason doesn’t stop to wait for an answer. Midnight, who absolutely did not need to die, Dies, and I’m pissed about it. Ochako wanders the ruins of Jakku for what feels like hours, rescuing small children while her adult hero compatriots fall to pieces around her, because apparently the U.A. kids really are the only people who have their shit together. The citizens of Japan are all “damn that’s wild, wonder how fucked we are now,” but are actually super casual and chill about it which is oddly realistic. The chapter ends with AFO in Tartarus being all “lol time for the prison break arc,” without giving us so much as a chance to catch our breath, like holy shit. Are we on the clock or something now, goddamn.

lmao it’s like 7pm on a Sunday night and this is out already. this is like the worst possible timing lol. there goes my nice, relaxed evening. unless of course this turns out to be a nice, restful, soothing chapter, as chapters coming on the heels of traumatic, earth-shattering battles so often are. yeah, break out the Pina Colada song and the little drink umbrellas, I got a good feeling about this one

(ETA: I mean, I was obviously being sarcastic here but damn, Horikoshi.)

-- fff why did I laugh

it’s the crumbling city ruins in the background that really does it, I think. JUST LOOK AT THIS MESS THAT YOU HAVE MADE, EVERYONE. FOR SHAME

also, the title is dramatic af and I am so fucking excited you guys, like holy shit. BnHA’s In-Between arcs have always been my favorite part of the series, because it’s when all the character development and angst and/or catharsis happens. just, those little breathing spaces in between the action when everyone gathers to recuperate and compartmentalize their fresh new traumas lmao. bring on that angst!! but also, let’s please have some Comfort to offset all of this Hurt too, please and thanks

blah blah blah so the survivors were evacuated, good good, can you actually show us though?

AHHHHHHH

PIXIE BOB SURVIVED!!!! WASH IS STILL ALIVE LMAO HOW. THIRTEEN’S FACE, OMG SHOULD I LOOK AWAY. IS IT LIKE MANDALORIAN RULES. IDK HOW IT WORKS

HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY ALIVE. LOLS ANYWAY I’M HERE FOR IT. FEEL FREE NOT TO KILL ANYONE ELSE HERE HORIKOSHI, I THINK WE’RE GOOD

(ETA: it’s like talking to a brick wall.)

oh my god do we really need exposition about how the heroes tried to stop TomurAFO from escaping and OF COURSE failed completely because they suck lmao. oh my god I am shocked, that is such shocking news

wow they only managed to defeat three of the Noumus. holy shit. again, all of the Not-Kid Heroes are only slightly more useful than cardboard cutouts of heroes at this point, MORE AT ELEVEN

so Tomura may have lost the PLF, but he still more or less has an army then, huh. I really don’t know how anyone could expect a timeskip with that threat looming over everyone’s heads

oh nvm lol there are only seven Noumus left. wait so you’re telling me there were only ten Nearly High Ends in that last chapter?? felt more like fifty but whatever lol I’ll take your word for it

COMPRESS YAY YOU’RE ALIVE TOO

MAYBE THEY CAN EVEN REATTACH HIS ASS. I’M SERIOUS LOL, BECAUSE HE STILL HAS IT, DOESN’T HE? OR IF NOT, THEY CAN REBUILD HIM WITH A PROSTHETIC ASS. he’ll be more powerful than ever

WHAAAAAAT YEAH BOIIIII

WOOO, EDGESHOT, WOOOOO. THAT’S HIS WAY OF THE NINJA

YEAHHHHH SUCK IT, PLF

(ETA: for the record I don’t think Cementoss is dead here, just badly wounded. if he had died he would have been included in the forthcoming In Memoriam page along with the others.)

GET BENT LOL. TRUMPET I FOR REAL FORGOT YOU EVEN EXISTED. I NEVER WANT TO SEE ANY OF YOU LOSERS AGAIN PLEASE. ONLY INTERESTING CHARACTERS MAY PROCEED PAST THIS POINT

dsflksaldkh;l

that’s... holy shit. that’s a bigass mansion, that’s what that is. also so does this mean there are still eighty thousand PLF members still at large, because that’s a plot line I very much do not care about in any way whatsoever lol. can’t we just retcon to say that Re-Destro was exaggerating? I mean hell, a CEO criminal pulling some Enron-type bullshit is pretty believable, isn’t it? those poor bamboozled shareholders

“makeste, here’s an idea, what if you scrolled down to read the rest of the page” lol gtfo of here with your logic and your sense

well those 132 people have made it onto my enemies list, but at least it sounds like they more or less took care of the rest. good riddance

and Toga escaped, as we knew already, and is now on the lam. hopefully she reunites with the League again at some point. although her doing her own thing could also be very interesting. idk what I want lol

anyway so there’s another big panel showing how fucked up the city is, just in case it hadn’t already been hammered into our skulls yet. there’s a car dangling off a roof somehow. how does that even happen. did Machia pick it up and put it there or

NOOO OMG RANDOM SMALL CHILDREN IN PERIL WHAT IS THIS

OCHAKO PLEASE SAVE THEM OMG

“if it falls on me, I want you to have my Endeavor pouch” OH MY STARS. HIS MOST PRECIOUS POSSESSION. NO MY CHILD YOU CAN’T GIVE UP HOPE YET

LMAO

“FOR THE LAST TIME NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR DUSTY-ASS POUCH, KYLE” fffff these children are dying and I am cracking up so hard my eyes are tearing up what is wrong with me

YAY THEY SAVED THEM

but listen. not that I don’t love seeing the girls kick ass, because you know I do. but I also really, REALLY need to know what’s going down with the Musketeers, and I’m not looking forward to waiting three whole weeks for that so please Horikoshi. please hurry this along so we can get to them

goddamn it Tsuyu is saying she’ll take the boy to the shelter to get first aid, and I was all “okay great because that’s probably where Kacchan and the others are too”, but now someone else is shouting for help and Ochako’s all “I’ll go” and it’s like OKAY BUT PLEASE? this chapter is already more than half over omfg. ‘bout to start wringing some hands here

oh my god

is this Toga again??? WHAT THE HELL, THIS CREEPYASS HALF-DEAD DUDE BETTER BE LEADING UP TO SOMETHING INTERESTING, I AM REALLY GETTING IMPATIENT

OR, I GUESS, WE COULD DO THIS INSTEAD

“SO AS IT TURNS OUT, NOT EVERY CHARACTER WHO NEEDS HELP SAVING THEIR SPOUSE FROM FALLEN RUBBLE IS ACTUALLY TOGA IN DISGUISE” HUH, OKAY. DULY NOTED. FILED AWAY FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

but fucking... okay, look. I love Ochako, I do. but I like her a whole lot more when she’s interacting with other characters I actually care about, as opposed to running around in the rubble rescuing random people while the fate of my other children is still up in the air. like okay, I get it, shit’s bad, now if you don’t mind we really don’t have to spend all day here though

...anyways but nope, we’re still staying with her. she’s bouncing around rescuing all of these other people. omg. I literally have no patience here at all and it’s terrible, I know, but oh my god

omg finally something interesting is happening!!

look at that, an adult hero standing around being useless while the kids are busy getting shit done. why is this becoming a recurring theme

MY DUDE, THIS IS SERIOUSLY NOT THE TIME THOUGH

I GET THAT IT’S OVERWHELMING AND THAT YOU’RE TRAUMATIZED AND SHIT, BUT GUESS WHAT, SO IS EVERYONE ELSE. THAT’S WHAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR. JUST LOOK AT OCHAKO! SHE’S SO EXHAUSTED HER HAIR HAS EVEN LOST ITS FLOOF, AND YET SHE’S STILL OUT HERE DOING HER BEST. ONE SAVE AT A TIME MY MAN. GET IT DONE. LITERALLY A SMALL CHILD IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT CALLING FOR THEIR MOMMY AND YOU’RE JUST STANDING THERE ALL “WAHH IT’S TOO MUCH” LIKE COULD YOU PLEASE POSTPONE YOUR CRISIS UNTIL AFTER YOU SAVE THEM PLEASE

OH MY GOD

MAYBE YOU SHOULD!! oh my god I really cannot, like wow. oh no I actually have to save people and do my job, god forbid. jesus christ, at least the other heroes tried. but Moping Hero: Bellyache here is just throwing in the towel and fuck everyone who still needs his help I guess. you are like the anti-Deku my dude

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD NO OH FUCK

THAT’S MIDNIGHT’S HAND OH FU -- SHE BETTER NOT -- HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD --

I’M GONNA LOSE IT I REALLY AM!!!!

HOLY SHIT HOW INTENSE OF A RAGE DO I NEED TO BRACE MYSELF TO BE FEELING HERE. THIS CHAPTER WAS ALREADY TRENDING TOWARDS DISAPPOINTMENT, DO WE REALLY NEED TO GO AND COMPOUND THAT

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

you’re telling me Tomura wasn’t brought back by that electric shock, but by his “fuck you” attitude? why are you explaining this to us now, again??

......

HEY, SO UM, FUCK ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS, THOUGH. (: OH MAN. OHHHHHH MAN. I HAVE... I HAVE GOT A LOT OF WORDS FOR THIS AND HERE ARE SOME OF THEM

FUCK

THINGS THAT SHOULD BE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO “SOME BULLSHIT”: THIS

FUCK

GET FUCKED HORIKOSHI

AND ALSO PLEASE FUCK RIGHT OFF!!

AND SERIOUSLY THOUGH FUCK YOU

NO BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THOUGH!! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED OFF ANYONE. LITERALLY ANY CHARACTER. YOU HAD TWELVE FEMALE PROS. TWELVE. YOU COULD HAVE MADE MORE OF THEM. PROBABLY, IF THERE ACTUALLY WERE SUPERHEROES IN REAL LIFE, THERE WOULD BE MORE THAN TWELVE OF THEM IN AN ENTIRE NATION. BUT NO, YOU WERE ALL “TWELVE IS MORE THAN ENOUGH.” AND THEN WHEN IT CAME TIME TO KILL PEOPLE OFF, YOU WERE ALL “WELL ALL RIGHT THEN, LET’S SEE, I PICK... THESE 18 RANDOM SIDE CHARACTERS WITH LITTLE TO NO DIALOGUE, PLUS THE ONE SINGLE FEMALE U.A. STAFF MEMBER WE ACTUALLY HAD. YEAH THAT OUGHTA DO IT”

AND BY THE WAY, HORIKOSHI, I PICKED SOMETHING UP FOR YOU ON MY WAY HOME, HERE IT IS, ┌П┐(・＿・) do you like it it was on sale. I saw it and was like, “Horikoshi would really like that.” so there you go. sorry it wasn’t gift-wrapped

p.s. I hope y’all can tell that that’s supposed to be a middle finger and not... something else lmao. er. anyway

(ETA: so I got a few asks from people who were really put off by this part of the reaction post, and so I’m just adding an extra note here to make it clear that I do not actually wish harm on Horikoshi in any way or even particularly dislike him. I wasn’t happy about Midnight’s death and I wanted to convey that, and so I went with my usual LOUD CAPSLOCK REACTION tone, but looking back on it I can see that it’s kind of a lot, lol. 

so just to be clear, the “fuck you” stuff is almost entirely tongue-in-cheek. that’s on me, I forget sometimes that there are people who share these sentiments unironically and so I didn’t think to make sure my intended meaning here was clear. anyways, killing Midnight was still a really problematic decision for numerous reasons but it is what it is. Horikoshi is not perfect, the story isn’t perfect, and I’m not gonna pretend like it is, but again just to be clear, I don’t harbor any actual ill will toward Horikoshi here.)

shit. and wow this man really went and killed off fucking Mystic too on top of that. have you ever seen a character fail so spectacularly at living up to their hype. r.i.p. Mystic you were like the Star Wars sequel of characters

(ETA: I have no fucking idea why I keep thinking Majestic’s name is Mystic lol. rest in peace you old scarecrowy bastard.)

and poor Momo, though. fuck. lost two mentors in a single day. and do not even get me started on Aizawa holy shit

so now we’re cutting to some random townspeople who are gossiping about the Todoroki drama. this is actually interesting in spite of my newfound determination to hate this chapter lol

ngl I am kind of heartened to see that not everyone fell for Dabi’s bs hook line and sinker though. Jeanist returning from the dead literally two seconds after Dabi was all “I SWEAR ON MY HONOR AS A VILLAIN THAT HAWKS MURDERED HIM” probably helped with that a bit! but there will doubtless be many other people who do believe him, or are at least still inclined to side-eye the heroes in general either way given how much they sucked in this arc. very, very interesting

so it seems though that even more than the whole Endeavor reveal, at the end of the day it’s going to be the heroes failing to live up to their end of the “put your faith in us and let us use our quirks and in return we’ll protect everyone and keep them safe” implied social contract that’s going to have the biggest impact on people’s opinions moving forward. basically this was always going to be a disaster no matter what

OH MY GOD FINALLY AHHHHH

Horikoshi really tapped into some of the real-life political energy of the past few years huh. Fuck Him Still for killing off Midnight, but I will admit that so far this is hella intriguing and I am really, really curious to see where things go from here

OH MY GOD THE LITTLE KIDS FROM THE BABYSITTING ARC

“FIVE PEEPEE MAN WOULDN’T LIE TO US” YES CHILDREN YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. at least the little ones still have faith

UM

 ( •̀ へ •́  )

that’s great. that’s really keen. all we need right now, amirite

GOOD FOR YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT

let’s just wait for him to explain what he feels. you know he likes to drag it out

is that Dabi crouched down there next to Spinner? looks like they got him out of the marble after all. but why has his hair changed colors again lol what

anyways. your turn to what??

:’) excuse me what

hahahaha are you fucking kidding me. and that’s where we’re going to end the chapter then. lol okay

so let’s recap. Midnight died. we spent ten hours watching Ochako dig people out of rubble for no apparent reason and were then introduced to my new least favorite character, and because Ochako is so nice she didn’t even punch him in the face even though she really should have. we did not get any Kacchan or Shouto. we got one panel of Deku, who is Finally Asleep. and the chapter ended with AFO ordering his Noumus to go set free, AND I QUOTE, HIS “MAIN BODY.” and now I gotta wait an entire week for Caleb’s translation to confirm that last part. omg

but it sounds like a prison break is imminent, which is very, very interesting. ...and actually, is it weird that I’m actually rooting for it to be a success? I have no idea what this guy is planning, but I do know that as long as the main part of his soul is still residing in Tomura’s body, Tomura’s chance of surviving the series is close to zero. and villain though he may be, I’m still rooting for his redemption (nice to have Deku on my side now too), and so yeah. so like if AFO feels like using some latent Exorcism Quirk or something that he’s been saving for just such an occasion, be my guest lol

meanwhile this doesn’t bode well for All Might though. or anyone else aside from Tomura, really. shiiiit

anyway. [slaps roof of chapter] this baby can fit so much bullshit in it

#bnha 296 #midnight (bnha) #uraraka ochako #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this took so long to post lol #I really need to learn to add an extra 2-3 hours to any time-sensitive estimates I make #anyways

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Reader Lives a Thousand Lives // D.M.

Summary: How could you describe your affinity for books? How could you explain what they mean to you? Draco tries to understand; he’s tried to understand for years.

A/N: I’m going to be honest: I’m struggling. I don't have writer’s block, but I am so busy atm that I feel awful about not being so active. I’m a key worker in the latest lockdown and my workload has tripled. On top of that, I have be tested twice a week and that’s enough to drain you completely. This isn't a long fic, and it probably isn't my usual standard, so please forgive me.

Warnings: book talk, lots of fluff, dates, friends to lovers, pining, mutual pining, dialogue heavy

Word count: 2.1k

How could you describe your affinity for books?

They had been there for you in times where not even your closest friends could offer you the best advice. They were there for you with every shift of your mood; you knew that you could turn to your shelves and somewhere, nestled between paperbacks and hardbacks, there would be the perfect read for your mood.

Put simply, books were your life.

Friends and family would fondly chuckle whenever they saw you, nose deep in whatever book had caught your attention. They knew not to disturb you. Instead, they knew to be there when the inevitable end would fall upon you, dragging you through its cliff-hanger or perfectly wrapped up ending.

Draco Malfoy had known you years, and he had never known you not to have a book in your hands or in your bag. On occasion, he had known you to carry a book in both, wanting something there in case you finished your current read.

He’s tried to understand your love of books. He’s a reader himself, but he has never understood how you could lose yourself in a fantasy world so quickly. Magic runs through your veins, yet you find it easier to read of fae and vampires instead of the witches and wizards of old.

Draco gave up trying to understand you long ago; deciding simply to admire you from afar. He cherished the friendship with you; adored it even, and if that meant he had to spend his only free weekend from work in a book shop with you, then so be it.

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

In Wizarding London there weren’t many places that catered to the publications of both muggle and magical authors. Flourish and Blotts was an excellent bookshop, but only housed books by wizards and witches. If one wanted something written by a muggle but did not want to wander into muggle society, they were best off wandering down a cobbled side street in Diagon Alley to Page Turners.

Draco knew the moment that he opened his front door to you this morning, that he was going to wind up walking through the front door of Page Turners. He had just finished his first chart review when his doorbell rang, and your knocking began. He made sure to put the lid on his fountain pen before answering the door to you.

Dark brown shelves line every wall, bordering the shop before giving away to shelves centred in the middle of the room. At first glance, the books seemed chaotic – hardbacks tucked in between smaller paperbacks, but upon closer inspection, it was clear that the books were doubled. For every paperback, there was its hardback equivalent. It looked like it shouldn’t make sense, but the further you walked into the shop, the more sense it made.

Every reader is particular. There are those who will only exclusively read paperbacks, preferring how portable they are. But there are those who much prefer hardbacks, wanting nothing more than to admire the foiled covers and sprayed edges that one can only get on special editions. The set-up of the shelves perfectly catered to that.

“Draco,” You gasp, trying your best to keep your hands to yourself until you found the books you wanted to take home with you, “Have you ever seen a place so wonderful?”

Draco’s eyes don’t leave your form as he answers, “I don’t know, I’ve seen some spectacular sights in my time.”

You don’t respond to the light flirtation, but Draco doesn’t miss the smile that crosses your face. You refuse to admit just how he makes your heart race with comments such as that; they fall from his mouth so easily that you often find yourself tied up in your emotions, wondering when on earth your feelings had turned from platonic to romantic.

Inhaling that all too familiar smell of worn leather and paper, you feel Draco’s presence behind you as you potter through the store, taking in the sheer amount of choices before you. “What’s your favourite book?” You ask absentmindedly, eyes still pouring over the surnames of authors.

He shrugs, shamefully admitting, “I haven’t read anything other than a medical journal in years.”

“Still,” You argue, “You must have a favourite book.”

He’s silent, pondering your words as he thinks back to the last time he was able to relax and read something that wasn’t for work. He thinks back to his childhood, practically hearing his mother’s voice in his ears as she recites her favourite fairytales before sending him to bed.

“It’s been so long,” He whispers, casting his gaze across the shop, in awe at the sheer amount of books he has not read.

“Then we should find you a new book to read,” You decide, stating your words with conviction as you reach for the blonde’s hand, beginning to pull him through the stacks of shelves like a woman on a mission.

“When would I have the time?” Draco argues, refusing to let go of your hand as you stop in front of a shelf filled to the brim with books.

You arch an eyebrow, “I think if I were to ask the nurses at St. Mungo’s, they would much prefer it if you would read a book instead of taking work home with you every night.”

“How do you know I do that?”

You snort, laughter brightening your eyes, “Because I know you, Draco.” Your expression turns more serious, “You need to take some time for yourself, Dray. You can’t work this hard all the time and not expect some repercussions.”

“I’m taking time for myself right now,” Draco counters, gesturing between you both with his free hand. He wasn’t going to let go of your hand until he had to; he enjoyed feeling your skin against his too much.

You roll your eyes, “You would be sat at home finishing charts if I hadn’t have shown up on your doorstep demanding your attention.”

Draco refuses to answer; knowing full well that you’ve caught him out. Before you showed up at his front door this morning, he had in fact been planning on spending the day in his office, finishing charts and then reading the latest journal on healing potions.

It hits him like a freight train then – how much time he has dedicated to his work, how much of his life had already given it. Draco adores being a Healer; much preferring this job to what was expected of him from his father. He walks into St. Mungo’s with anticipation and excitement settling deep within his bones because no two days there are the same; he doesn’t know what cases are going to land in his lap.

Yet, he gives so much of himself over to it that there is little left for him to enjoy. It happened slowly; Draco supposes. Taking a few charts home here and there, for him to finish in the comfort of his office, but then it spiralled into staying hours after his shift had finished, working on budgets and chart reviews, making sure everything is up to the standard it should be for the only magical hospital in the British Isles.

Before long, he hadn’t had a free weekend to himself in close to a year. If he wasn’t working at the hospital, he was working from home. If he was at the hospital, he was taking case after case. It wasn’t until Mary, the Head Nurse, had cornered him that Draco agreed he would take the weekend to himself – no charts, no reviews, no nothing. Mary even checked his bag before he left the hospital.

“You’re right,” Draco admits, the words rushing out of him in one breath.

“I usually am,” You tease, a wide smile on your face, “But what am I right about this time?”

“I don’t take time for myself. I don’t do anything for myself.”

Your gaze softens as you squeeze his hand, “Let’s find you something to read. If we don’t find something here, we’ll think of another plan.”

Draco nods, squeezing your hand in return. “Lead the way,” He offers, curious as to what books you would choose for him.

It doesn’t take long for you to find what you think Draco would like. You stick close to his interests, knowing just how much they have changed from your shared time at Hogwarts.

Offering him three books, you explain, “One is written by a muggle doctor, he explains twelve cases that he worked on specially as he battled an illness he didn’t know he was going to survive. The second is a classic novel, also written by a muggle author that I think you should read when you have more time on your hands – it’s Victorian so longer sentences, longer headaches. The third book is a mystery book that I enjoyed, and I thought you would too.”

“Thank you,” Draco murmurs, taking the small pile of paperbacks from you, holding them close as he gazes over their covers, wondering what exactly what is about him that drew you to these three particular books.

“What do you think?” You ask, a note of vulnerability in your voice. Choosing books for others had never truly been your strong suit despite how much you read.

Draco remains silent for a moment as he flips the books over in his hands, reading the blurbs. You chew on the inside of your cheek, worry settling in your gut. There had been an ulterior motive to you showing up on his doorstep this morning; he needed to leave the house and go out. Having known him years, you knew that Draco would spend his only free weekend of the month working, and you were not standing for it any longer. He didn’t have to choose the books you had picked out; Merlin, he didn’t to read at all, but he needed to do something else other than work.

“Well?” You prompt before sighing, “You don’t have to read a book, Dray. We can find something else; I just don’t want you to spend all your free time working.”

Draco looks up from the books, a small smile on his face, “I’ll take them. I like the sound of the first one you described.”

The smile that graces your face at Draco’s words tells him that he had made the right choice. The anxiety leaves you in a rush, leaving nothing but relief behind.

“What about you?” Draco asks, turning the subject back to you, “What are you going to buy?”

You shrug, “I’ve already picked a few but I wouldn’t mind looking for more. That is, if you’re okay with that?”

Draco is more than okay with that. He follows you around the shop, taking the basket of books from you when it looks to be getting too heavy.

“Why do you read so many books?” Draco asks before he can stop himself.

“A reader lives a thousand lives,” You murmur, flipping through the pages of one particular paperback. Draco resists the urge to roll his eyes when he sees the cover: a half-naked man wrapped up in a passionate embrace with a scantily clad woman. Romance novels were your current obsession, reading through dozens of them and still not getting your fill.

“Let me take you on a date,” Draco asks suddenly, the first notes of shyness creeping into his voice.

It’s as he watches you flick through the pages of the book in your hand that draco realises he has done this for years. He has watched you for years fall into fictional worlds and come out the other side with a new part of you for him to discover. He has watched you fall in love characters only to feel foolish once he realises the keen sting of jealousy is over a person who does not and will not exist.

Draco has watched this for years, and as he watches you add the romance novel to your basket, he realises he could do this for a lot longer. He wants nothing more than to ignore his work for the weekend if it meant he could troll around bookshops with you, watching you find more fictional worlds for you to fall in love all the while loving you just as intensely.

“What would you have in mind?” You counter, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, giving in to the butterflies raging in your gut.

He smiles, nonchalantly leaning against one of the bookshelves, watching as you reach for spine after spine. Draco knows exactly what he would plan for your date, but he would be damned if he was to tell you. Instead, he crosses his arms and leans forward, “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

----------

Books mentioned:

Twelve Patients: Life and Death at Bellevue Hospital by Eric Manheimer

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The Glass House by Eve Chase

**********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @probably-peeves @big-galaxy-chaos @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @awritingtree @haphazardhufflepuff @stupxfy @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @sarcasticallywitty15 @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @phuvioqhile​ @moatsnow​ @storyisnotover​ @himooonlight​ @missmulti​ @amourtentiaa​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obxmxybxnk​ @obx-beach​ @dracomalfoyswifey​ @sycathorn-slush​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy

[ohh-baekhyun]

Sugar | 03

summary: Getting into a performing arts college isn’t cheap. In desperate need of money, you sign yourself up on an online dating site called Sugar. There, you match with a wealthy man named Mr Byun.

genre: Softdom!baek, sugardaddy!au, teacherxstudent!au

taglist : in comment section. im sorry if i missed you, i deleted some of my asks the other time. let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

One Month Later

Living in a spacious apartment had its own downside. More often than not, I felt lonely, but I wasn’t complaining. Baekhyun didn’t come over everyday because he wanted to give me time to do things that didn’t involve him. I think they called it me time, whatever that was. Baekhyun said it was to prevent us from growing too dependent on each other, which could be unhealthy. And as much as I disliked it, he was right. Our relationship wasn’t permanent, and there would come a time when either one of us had to call the arrangement off. I would be sad, because that’s human, but not to the point where I became depressed.

When I wasn’t spending the day with Baekhyun, I’d be practicing the piano. After my father passed away, my stepmother had sold off our Steinway and stopped paying for my lesson. I was lucky to know a friend who allowed me to practice at her music shop for free. When I wasn’t practicing, I would be at home, taking care of my little plants on the balcony. They were like my babies.

Since Baekhyun had suggested that I learned a new language, I’d decided to take up Chinese. He had offered to hire a home tutor for me, but I insisted on learning it myself because Chinese lessons were expensive. We argued about it for a while, until he decided he wanted to learn too. We had our lesson together every Sunday afternoon for two hours. Our tutor, Miss Fei, was a long time friend of Baekhyun. And for some reason, she was always picking on me over the slightest things. Sometimes when Baekhyun wasn’t looking, she would kick my leg, step on me or pinch my arm under the table. If I had to guess, I think she didn’t respect me because she knew Baekhyun was paying for me. That’s why I’ve been working a part time job as a piano accompanist at a ballet school. It was an easy job with a reasonable pay, and I only had to be there twice a week. Thanks to that, I had finally saved enough to pay for this month’s lessons. I just didn’t know if Baekhyun would accept it.

Today was a Saturday and I was doing the homework Miss Fei had given us. I’d actually finished everything but I wanted to double check to avoid mistakes. I was scolded for making just one error last week, and if Baekhyun wasn’t there, I thought she might even beat me.

By the time I was done, I was too tired to climb to bed so I’d fallen asleep on the desk. What woke me up was the creaking sound from the door opening. I lifted my head from my folded arms and looked at the door. “Hi Mr Byun,” I greeted, my voice soft and languid. He was dressed casually in a black sweatshirt and pajama pants, his hair tousled like he had just woken up from sleep and rushed here immediately.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun asked, approaching me.

“Chinese homework,” I answered. “Can you help me check if there’s any mistake?”

He stopped behind my chair and bent over to rest his palms on the desk. His chest touched the back of my head as he scanned my workbook. Suddenly I stopped feeling sleepy but hyper aware. Baekhyun leaned closer when he reached for a pencil, and I had a feeling it was deliberate because the thing he was reaching for was just next to my book. I inhaled, feeling warm all over. Baekhyun remained silent as he continued checking my work. “This one–“ he drew a cross next to my wrong answer. “–is supposed to be a wǔ, not wù, they have different meaning, sweetheart, he explained.

I picked up an eraser and wiped it off before making a correction. If he hadn’t caught that, Miss Fei was gonna to go ballistic. I sighed in relief and glanced up from my desk. He was staring down at me. I wore a grateful smile. “Thank you,”

“Welcome,” He whispered, leaning down to drop a kiss on my lips.

“Why are you here, Mr Byun?” I asked when he pulled away.

His brow furrowed. “Do you not know what day it is?”

My eyes flew to the desk calendar, then I glanced up at him again. “Sunday?” I said hesitantly. Baekhyun frowned at me and I started to get anxious. “Did I forget something?”

Baekhyun sighed. “You are really unbelievable,” He mumbled, setting down the pencil before pushing himself off the desk. He clasped my hand and tugged me up to my feet. “I have a surprise for you,” he said as he walked me out of my bedroom.

He led me down the short hallway and as I stepped out into the open plan living room, my eyes widened. There were a combination of white and pink balloons floating on the ceiling, and rose petals scattered on the floor around the couch. Realization dawned when I saw cake on the coffee table along with other props and gift boxes. I was starry-eyed as he walked me there. I finally glanced at him, my eyes blinking in disbelief. “You did this? for me?”

He wears a smile. “Happy Birthday,”

My eyes flew to the grandfather clock. It was half past twelve. The fact that he remembered my birthday was shocking enough, he even came all the way here at midnight to surprise me. “I…” I didn’t know what to say. Thank you didn’t seem enough.

“Have I stolen your ability to speak, sweetheart?” He teased, one side of his lips curling up. I linked my arm around his and hummed. He chuckled at my sudden clinginess. “How could you forget your own birthday?” He questioned as we both lowered ourselves to the couch.

“I haven’t celebrated in a long time…” I replied, a tremble in my voice. My eyes were getting glassy and I had to keep them open so the tears wouldn’t fall. “Thank you for remembering, Mr Byun,”

“I was going to surprise you at twelve o’clock sharp–“ Baekhyun bent over to light up the candles and I used the opportunity to wipe the tears away. “–but I fell asleep. I hope I’m still the first to wish you?” He asked.

That explained the pajamas. And the hair. My heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. I shifted closer and slid my arms around his waist, giving him a side hug. “You are the first,” And the only one.

Baekhyun straightened his back once he was done and I unwrapped my arms around him. He held the cake towards me. “Make a wi–,” his speech halted as I blew the candles out. He raised his brows. “No wishes?”

I shook my head. “I have everything I need,”

Baekhyun regarded me for a while, seemingly confused, but he didn’t make any comment and placed the cake on the table.

I stared up at the balloons on the ceiling. They were so pretty. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done to me,” I said, looking back at him, a smile on my lips. “I appreciate it, Mr Byun,”

“To tell the truth, it’s my first time doing something like this,”

“Oh?” my head tilted in question. “What about your subs, or your ex-girlfriends?”

“I wrote them a cheque as a gift and they loved it,” he said. “But you don’t seem to like money that much, which is still very strange to me,”

“Of course I like money. But only money I earned with my own hard work,” I clarified. “I look for a sugar daddy to help me pay for college, not to live a lavish lifestyle. So...you don’t have to keep spoiling me,”

“Sweetheart, I like how undemanding you are, but buying you gifts isn’t gonna make me poor,” He insisted gently. “Honestly, every time you say no, it makes me wanna do the opposite,”

I gave him a long stare, hoping for some magic to make him listen. But he just shrugged. I sighed, giving up. “It’s gonna be very hard getting you a present because nothing would measure up,” I muttered under my breath.

“Speaking of present,” he said. “I have another surprise for you,” he tugged at my hand. As I followed him, I really wished he didn’t get me something too extravagant. I’ve been keeping count of the money I owed him because I planned to pay him back one day. Counting all the gifts he bought for me, my hair would turn gray by the time I paid off my debt.

“You said you didn’t want me to spend too much on you, so–” He pushed at the sliding door that led to the balcony. At first, I assumed that he had bought me a new plant, but then, I heard a gurgling sound that wasn’t there before, and as I stepped further in, I finally spotted the surprise.

“You got me a fish?” The surprise made my voice sound a little squeaky. Grinning hard, I moved closer to the rectangular fish tank. They were three little gold fishes. I lowered myself into a squat by the tank and Baekhyun crouched on one knee next to me. My finger tapped on the glass lightly and I giggled when they swam towards me, their fins fluttering in the water. I admired them for a while, and when I felt Baekhyun staring at me, I turned to meet his eyes. “This is the best gift so far,”

“You weren’t this happy when I got you that Chanel bag,” he commented. “I’d do this sooner if I knew,”

“Why did you get me a fish though?”

“I thought you might feel lonely when I’m not here,” he told me. “They can be your company,”

Overwhelmed by this thoughtfulness, I let out a groan of frustration. “You need to stop being so perfect, Mr Byun, it makes me wanna kiss you all the time,”

Laughter filled his voice. “And why is that a problem?”

“Because kissing usually leads to sex…and if we keep having sex, my vagina might actually break.”

Baekhyun blew out a huff of laughter, his eyes full of heat with a mix of amusement. ”I wasn‘t thinking about sex at all, but now I am. Thanks to you,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers slid through my hair and he cupped the back of my head. I stopped breathing, my heartbeat accelerating when he leaned in to press his lips on mine. I let my eyelids drop naturally as he kissed me, soft and slow. When he pulled back, we shared the same desire-filled gaze. “We should go inside,” He whispered over my lips, his words an invitation.

I swallowed and smiled, albeit shyly. “We should,” I whispered back.

Baekhyun glanced over at the fish tank for a second, then his eyes reverted to me. “Do you wanna name them first?” He asked. I bobbed my head, and we were silent for a while as we considered their names. “Hm, what about Bubbles?” He suggested.

“Oh that’s nice! Maybe we can call them Bubbles, Blossom and Buttercup?” I proposed. “Since our names also start with a B, I think it’s perfect. What do you think, Mr Byun?”

Baekhyun gave me a soft look and smiled. He probably found it funny that I took this so seriously like I was naming my baby. “Alright, sweetheart,” he agreed.

For the next few minutes, Baekhyun taught me how to care for the goldfishes, like how many times I should feed it daily and how often I should change their water.

We returned to the living room and stored the cake in the fridge for tomorrow. None of us was hungry at the moment.

“I think we should tell Miss Fei to cancel today’s lesson since it’s your birthday,” Baekhyun suggested once we entered my bedroom. He shut the door behind us and stared at me for an answer. Remembering something, I put him on hold as I searched for my purse. This room was too big. Baekhyun took a seat on the edge of my bed and watched me. “What are you looking for?”

Finding my purse under the desk, I lowered myself to the ground and picked up an envelope where I kept my money. I was lifting myself up when Baekhyun reminded me to watch my head. Except it was too late and I’d knocked myself against the roof of the desk. I winced out loud, my hand flying up to rub the pain.

Baekhyun sighed out, shaking his head at my clumsiness. “You’re gonna wind up in the hospital at this rate. Can you please...be more careful?” he reprimanded gently. I flashed him a sorry smile and walked over to him. “Are you okay?” He asked and I answered with a small hum. Despite that, he still observed me closely, probably making sure I was telling the truth.

“I’m okay,” I reassured, climbing into bed and dipped my knee on each side of his thighs. He immediately slid a hand around my back as I lowered myself to sit on his lap, preventing me from falling backward to the ground. “I’ve been saving up,” I told him, holding up the envelope in between our chest. “Here’s this month’s lesson fee,”

He dropped his gaze to the envelope, his brows furrowing. “We’re done arguing about this,” he said firmly.

“Please accept it, Baekhyun,” I pleaded. “I think Ms Fei looks down on me because she knows you’re paying for me,”

He considered me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “How exactly did you come to that conclusion?”

I tried not to read too much into his reaction. Baekhyun was a rational person, he probably needed to hear all the facts before he made a judgement. “For starter, she’s always picking on me over the smallest thing,”

“She’s a teacher, it’s her job to point out your mistakes, but that doesn’t equal hating you, don’t you agree?” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“But–“

“Not everyone is going to coddle you, princess. You’ll never improve that way,”

A sudden wave of anger flared in my chest. Baekhyun and I argued before, but I’ve never gotten worked up like this. I guessed because this situation hit home for me. I could take a scolding, name calling or even a beating, but not when someone doubted my integrity. I slid off his lap and stood on my feet. He stood up and tried to reach for my hands, but I backed away. He frowned and studied me. I stared back at him, my eyes cold.  “I’m not a spoiled girl who needs coddling,” I told him boldly. So unlike me. I wasn't usually the assertive one.

Baekhyun must've agreed because he was speechless for a moment. “That’s not what I said,”

“But that’s what you imply,” I argued.

“If you don’t like Miss Fei, we can always find a new tutor for us.” He persuaded me. “I don’t want us to argue on your birthday,”

I didn’t answer to that. I wanted to tell him about the kicking and the pinching, but I doubt he would believe me. I walked to the other side of the bed to stay as far away as possible from him. I got in bed, pulling the comforter over my body and turning to lay on my side. A few seconds later, Baekhyun appeared kneeling on one knee by the bed, his eyes full of concern as he checked on me. Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop it. "I’m not making up stories like you think I am, Mr Byun,” I said, my voice trembled.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of my crying, maybe because it was his first time seeing me like this. “I don’t–“ he stopped and sighed, sounding so exhausted all of a sudden. His face was blurry through the tears, but I could still detect the guilt clouding his expression. “Sweetheart, shh,” he shushed and reached over to dab my tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Fei is an old friend of mine, but I should’ve known better. You’re not someone who complains unless something is really bothering you. Had she done something inappropriate to you?”

“I don’t wanna tell you. You’re not gonna believe me.” my words were snippy despite my state. Miss Fei was Baekhyun’s friend of ten years, and I knew him for merely a month. Of course he would trust her more than me.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now. But is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

I pulled the cover blanket my head, ignoring him. When he didn’t say anything, it proved that he acknowledged his mistake. Because on a normal day, he wouldn’t appreciate this no-manner attitude from me.

Although I couldn’t blame him for doubting me, that didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt. Dark memories flooded my mind, bringing me back to those tough days when I was still living with my stepmother. She had never believed me when I told her that her boyfriend had been making a move on me. Until it was too late. Well, at least Baekhyun didn’t beat me up like they did. And he apologized. I’d forgiven him, but I didn’t want to speak to him yet. I didn’t care that it was my birthday, the day had never been significant to me anyway.

Author's Note:

hi everyone, it's been a very long while. I updated the 2nd chapter last christmas and in the time i was gone, i was constantly feeling very discouraged and demoralized about my writing. I tried writing story after story but im always worried it isn’t good enough. I've never been confident of myself to begin with, and then with the lack of feedback, I feel even worse. I don't know if I can write any new fics, but I really wanna try completing my ongoing fics hehe thank you for reading this story, i hope this chapter is not that bad, I haven't written for so long. Next chapter is gonna be very fluffy and smutty once the two finally made up! :D and if you like my fic, please show some support by commenting, it's what keeps me going and I really appreciate it! Tell me what you think of this! see you again!

#baekhyun #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun romance #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x oc #exo smut #baekhyun imagine #byun baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun x you

[bleachbleachbleach]

Fic: Away, Away

This was written for Day 13 of @hitsuhina-week! If you prefer, you can also read this on AO3. Which is my preference, because Tumblr keeps eating my spacing whether I use Rich Text or HTML so it looks absurd on here. >.>

Aftermath / Going on a Trip Together Hinamori Momo + Hitsugaya Toushirou Pre-Series

--

This will be the last time. 

(Whisper it, so he won't hear.)

--

Every spring, Junrinan finds its way to the western mountains. (The souls of Rukongai wander.) There is no grand procession: They disperse across the vast range, often alone and sometimes in twos. They are always careful not to cause disruption, because while one soul in a forest full of spirits generally isn't worth the effort, seven is a meal.

They are three. 

Soon, they will be two. Hinamori can't stop whispering her new name, hi na mo ri. It's early to be out here, but the snows were mild this year and new growth is already peeking from beneath the thick, rich leaf rot. She feels an affinity with this year's tender saplings, a feeling that grows hotter with every whispered repetition of her name. Her grandmother had given it to her, showed her how to write it. She'd studied her name harder than she had the exam.

Hinamori has an acceptance letter. In April, she is leaving. 

Hinamori nearly walks straight into a nettle spirit--the hair-eating kind--draped across the game path plain as day.

"Do you wanna be bald?" Toushirou grouses as he yanks her back just in time. "I guess it fits. You're acting like a blind old man." 

Hinamori blinks, brushes imagined hair from her face. It's the fifth time she's tried to walk straight through a spirit in as many days. 

"Studying is bad for your eyes," says Toushirou. He doesn't care for moony Hinamori. Momo had paid a lot more attention to what was in front of her. But she's Hinamori now. At least, that's the only name she'll write, dragging her thin stick through the dirt outside the house. So that's what he calls her.

Toushirou squeezes through a bumble of pot-bellied mushroom spirits and Hinamori follows him, stepping carefully into his tracks.

"You'll need to keep reading even when I'm not around. It'll go if you don't practice," she says.

Toushirou makes a noncommittal sound.

"I'll send you letters full of kanji and quiz you on them when I visit." I'll learn how to write them pretty, she promises, just like Baachan does.

"Will you write me back?" she asks.

"Probably not."

This hurts her. But Toushirou plans to go the rest of his life without writing a single thing. It's not personal.

"Why would I need to tell you what happens in Junrinan?" he says. "You already know."

--

And if I forget?

--

Life in Junrinan doesn't change. That's what Toushirou was promised. The winters are quiet and slow, and in spring they go to the mountains. Summers are for farming, and autumns for harvest. Then winters are quiet and slow again.

Spring passes with bracken and angelica in hand. It is counted in the spirals of ferns as their number grows in the baskets. Some are dried; some are steeped. Mostly, they are sold. Many of the men in Junrinan spend springtime waking before dawn to sprint to the mountain, forage the lowlands, and return to the village for evening revelries, but Toushirou and Hinamori and their grandmother have always spent the whole of the season between the trees. The mountains prefer it when you stay. 

This will be true no matter how long Hinamori is gone.

April 12th through July 20th, then our first break, she says, scratching numbers in the dirt. But Junrinan doesn't have dates the way the Academy does. She draws the way the trees will change. The change happens in a long straight line, and beyond July 20th there is an emptiness rather than a repetition. How do you draw an unwritten future?

Hinamori writes her name again.

--

In the spring, everything is full: Toushirou enjoys the wet green of it, the late snows and vernal flooding. The water flows down from the mountains ice cold and the forests are loud and thick with spirits.

The spirits have no names that are written and no faces that have ever stayed the same, unremembered but immemorial. They are loud. Most of them respect the borders of his body. They brush against his legs with thick wet fur or scrape his cheek with leathery wings. They coil around his throat, treating him like a tree or rock. Some of them are trees and rocks. They are the mountains and forest, just like the wandering souls of Junrinan. They all belong here, more or less.

Toushirou can see most of them. When the blurry ones pass through you, it's feverishly unpleasant for the split-second it happens and then is nothing at all. The blurry ones, Toushirou figures, aren't actually in this forest. They are like shadows at sunset, cast long and far from their bodies. Their true bodies roam a different world entirely.

That's what Hinamori wants to do. 

Hinamori used to clamor for shinigami stories any time one of them passed through town. She'd been told one time that all travelers carried stories and now expected it.

The shinigami never expected her. Unless commerce was involved they didn't tend to acknowledge souls, or even look at them. So they always seemed surprised by Hinamori, like it hadn't occurred to them that they'd meet a real, full person out here. Which is fair enough, Toushirou grudgingly allows--there are plenty of souls in Junrinan so old and staid they cannot move, nor speak. (Don't touch them. It's unlucky.)

We don't talk about those.

The shinigami talk story: The story of black dye. The story of a tall bathhouse. The story of grilled meat on sticks. The story of the time they saw a noble. The story of a big fish. The story of a bigger fish. The story of the bullet train. The story of my sister, who isn't very interesting but is the only thing that comes to mind right now sorry. The story of 19th seats should be paid more. The story of the soul who wanted a story. 

Almost none of the stories are about death.

"Little girls shouldn't go into those mountains," one shinigami once said, which is as close as a story ever came to it. "Nasty stuff in there. They're called Hollows, you know. Real bad guys."

The shinigami patted the sword at his hip. He'd just told Hinamori a story about the third son of a lesser noble whom everyone loved and thought deserved better than the shadows of his elder brothers. And how preposterous is it, really, that he should have to prove himself when his brothers never did? Pushed out here into the boonies, seeking honor and fame. He really feels for the guy. Don't you? Don't you?

"You seem to know a lot about 'this guy,'" Toushirou offered.

"I'm a master storyteller," said the shinigami.

I've killed a Hollow before, you know, boasted the master storyteller. He'd led a unit of twelve men into those mountains out there, which were so quiet you could hear your own heart beating. When you can hear your terror--that's when you're on the cusp of valor. His eyes lit up. I was the one who cut the mask, he said.

Twelve is obviously far too many (seven is a meal), and those mountains have never been quiet. Toushirou didn't think he'd really been.

In the spring, though, there's a dark scar where once there'd been a copse of trees. Shattered branches and burned ground. His grandmother says it smells like Hollow. 

"They see things differently," his grandmother half-explains, of the shinigami and their Hollows and the silence of their mountains. Of course this would seem a different place to them.

"They're idiots," says Toushirou, though suddenly he's not sure. The scar is hair-raising, and his stomach roils. Maybe they really shouldn't be out in the woods.

"The shinigami know more than you," says Hinamori, taking his hand in hers. She grips it tightly, reassuring, or maybe annoyed. Both. She has a lot of school spirit for someone who hasn't even been yet.

But she doesn't let go of his hand, even after they've returned to the cover of the live trees, kitsune fire nestled in the brambles at their feet.

Toushirou makes the mistake of noticing a spirit that tends to linger just out of sight. It feeds on your instinct to look, and it grows higher and higher the more you crane your neck, so sure you'll be able to sneak a glimpse of it. By the time you realize the trick, you've always been had. It's very annoying.

--

This will be the last time.

(Scream it.)

--

"It's so dark out here," says Hinamori, in spite of the kitsune and all the rest. Lots of spirits glow. She is still holding his hand.

Toushirou thinks of the small lamp Hinamori had bought to study by, the wild shadows it cast on the interior walls and the way it had made all hours bright. He thinks of all the hours she hadn't slept. All because some shinigami had told her a story about a school. 

Anything would seem dark by comparison. He can't remember the last time she hadn't had her lamp on when he went to bed.

Hinamori is going to snap the bones in his hand. He yelps. Tears prick in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

She doesn't let go, and then she doesn't let go.

"It's so quiet," she says faintly. Her free hand wavers over her heart protectively.

It's so dark. It's so quiet. Quiet enough to hear your terror.

Except it's not. It's not dark.

It's not quiet.

The forest is full, air thick with chirrups and buzzing, screeching, hooting, chittering. Bodies clack and bones shudder. Reeds whistle and something large makes a whomping, resonating tone. Foxfire hisses as it makes sparks, throws phosphorous motes that dance high above. A heartbeat glow marches up the ridged spine of a lizard spirit. The forest is as it has always been.

Toushirou's eyes widen. 

"You can't hear them anymore."

To Hinamori, it is all darkness and silence. 

She sinks to the ground, burying her head in her knees as though to hide from the quiet. From the black. She drops his hand.

"Momo--"

She shakes her head. She opens her hands to the sky like she's waiting for a bird to land. For a split second, a small warm flame billows from her palms. 

Then the entire forest catches.

The thought had been innocent enough--to be her own light in the darkness, conquer her fear. But the forest only hears the conquering. It's the kitsune who don't take kindly to Hinamori's light. Their fire screeches up and outward and then all the spirits are in frenzy. A meal! scream some; and others, a threat! A danger to be expunged. A strange thing not of this forest, these mountains.

Outsider! the world around them hisses. Away.

away, away

Hinamori screams as the flames leap forward--the claws, the vines, the terrors and all in between. She throws herself in front of Toushirou. 

Toushirou can't find his voice at all. The wide whites of his eyes feel the propulsive gust of the forest coming down on them. On Hinamori. No! he can't shout, cold fear coiling over his frozen legs and pricking at his shoulder blades. Something serpentine rushes past him and he's on the ground. His head smacks hard against a writhing tree root and he tastes bile, feels nothing. 

Hears everything.

away

When he wakes, snow is falling, wet and sloppy. Kitsune are nibbling at the singed edges of a hanafuda. Hinamori is in her grandmother's arms. She's crying.

--

Before Hinamori started studying, with her bright lamp and her long nights and her feverish poetry scratched into the ground, before the hunger came, she'd woken one morning to a futon streaked with her blood. Her grandmother said that this was womanhood.

"The tea will stop the bleeding," she assured a tearful Hinamori as they scrubbed at her futon, pinking the waters. Toushirou beat at the stain with his feet, splashing everywhere.

"You don't have to touch it," Hinamori had said quietly, her eyes fixed on the water. "It's my mess."

"Baachan said I have to help," Toushirou objected. "Besides, am I supposed to just sit here and watch you bleed?"

--

Just one last time.

--

Hinamori isn't hurt, but she is in pain. The forest doesn't want her anymore. (She is leaving.)

"The forest sees them differently," his grandmother says, the other half of her earlier explanation. "Them," meaning shinigami. "Them," meaning Hinamori, now.

Shinigami see and are seen differently. They belong differently. Toushirou had only ever distinguished them by their black clothes, and sometimes their attitude. But his grandmother talks about reiryoku, about reiatsu, about the realms the shinigami travel through and the spirits they are blind to. The spirits that belong to different worlds than theirs, even when they're side by side. Some worlds are bound to one another, tied by fate and duty; others are repelled.

As Hinamori's reiatsu blossomed with her womanhood, slowly folding outward past her skin, beyond her body, her worlds were chosen for her. Like the bleeding, there's a tea to help this, too, but it's not the same. 

There is no going back.

"What're you looking at," Toushirou scowls at her. He's not sure what to do with her pain. There's nothing he can do for her pain. But she's looking at him differently, a little less like Hinamori and a little more like the rest of Junrinan does, and that scares him.

She asks him if he'd felt anything. Something cold.

She's asked him before. Every day since the incident, she's asked him.

His answer is always the same. No. Just fear.

He should be helping his grandmother. They're here in the forest for a reason, and that hasn't changed; they have foraging to do. But he doesn't want to leave Hinamori alone. 

"Don't be afraid of it, Shiro-chan," says Hinamori. Hinamori, who's now afraid of the dark.

Hinamori, who is leaving.

--

She doesn't have a choice. When her power comes into her she knows there is only one place she can go. It's a place she has always wanted to go. (She has always wanted to go places.) But now she has to.

She smiles. 

If she is going to go, she's going to fly. She will love, and yearn, and cry. She will give all of herself to the future before her, even when it means that precious things can be only memory. If there is something Hinamori leaves in him when she goes, it's flight. 

Someday, Toushirou will remember to remember that.

--

"Will you write me?" she asks.

--

--

(You will be written.)

--

She returns for the summer, then is gone again. Winter, then gone again. But she doesn't come home for the spring. They'll be going to the realm of the living. They will fight Hollows, just like the Gotei 13. She explains the meaning and stroke order of the characters, go tei,  though she doesn't explain what the Gotei 13 actually is. That part must already seem obvious to her. Shinigami stuff. That's all Toushirou will ever need to know. Seems pretentious.

When Junrinan returns to the mountains this year, Toushirou and his grandmother stay behind. "It's dangerous," she says. She squeezes his shoulders.

It's dangerous now. 

There is no going back.

Junrinan may not change, but life does, and by the second summer, Hinamori has mostly forgotten the shapes of the forest spirits. Toushirou is forgetting them, too. 

The difference is, Hinamori has found replacements. She talks about incantations and sword stances, friendships and histories. She has been to the realm of the living. It's only been a year, and already they have nothing in common but their memories, ever-receding. 

Sometimes she wakes up screaming. She doesn't say why.

--

Toushirou dreams of a chill ripping through him. He dreams of a place where there are no mountains as far as the eye can see.

--

He wakes to Hinamori.

#hinamori momo #hitsugaya toushirou #hitsuhina week #bleach fic #IT'S FOR THE CULTURE #I wanted to play with the idea of the districts of Rukongai having their own cultures and practices apart from what we know of the Seireitei #I thought it would be interesting to imagine that it's because these things are not legible/perceivable to our shinigami narrators #because their existence is tied more closely to other worlds and realms #So just like there are things that humans can't see wandering their world there are things that shinigami can't see either #👻👻👻👻👻👻 #yes this is the angery fic that hates me but its deadline is today so now it is done!

[sadachmesarthim]

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au  -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc. 

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw.  Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge. 

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls... 

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around. 

And running into Tony face first. 

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster. 

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk. 

It was picturesque, the mess they made. 

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!” 

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. 

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier. 

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face. 

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense. 

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone. 

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away. 

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job. 

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out. 

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern. 

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him! 

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it. 

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast. 

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...” 

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries. 

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own. 

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?” 

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word. 

What a douchebag. 

#sorry i just flat out didn't like this #sfsummerbingo21 #starkerfestivalsevents #starker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #coffee shop au #.mine #i'm so sorry mads #i know i'm a pain in the ass

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number. 

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide. 

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today. 

Shit, did billionaires even text? 

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead. 

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out? 

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding. 

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway. 

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused. 

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door. 

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building. 

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to. 

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside. 

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional. 

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words. 

~

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle. 

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good. 

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window. 

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress. 

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically. 

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly. 

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me. 

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on. 

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. 

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs. 

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline. 

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself. 

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself. 

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine. 

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one. 

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right. 

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap. 

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up. 

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.” 

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.” 

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again? 

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something. 

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist. 

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room. 

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but... 

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair. 

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling. 

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat. 

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed. 

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground. 

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless. 

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead. 

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs. 

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff. 

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display. 

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly. 

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened. 

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask. 

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses. 

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone. 

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine. 

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway. 

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important. 

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture. 

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I? 

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place. 

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod. 

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look. 

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it. 

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago. 

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners. 

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

~

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem. 

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks. 

He’s all I fucking think about. 

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck. 

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him. 

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more. 

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically. 

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days. 

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals. 

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings. 

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars. 

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring. 

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him. 

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book. 

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible? 

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying. 

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.” 

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over. 

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me. 

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside. 

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything. 

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment. 

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping. 

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain. 

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away. 

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake. 

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.” 

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility. 

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface. 

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile. 

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side. 

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest. 

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago. 

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation. 

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me. 

She’s falling for me. 

Which, technically, is the plan. 

Technically, everything is going great. 

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her. 

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture. 

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself. 

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born. 

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily. 

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that. 

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold. 

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect. 

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care. 

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake. 

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet. 

And I’m just getting started. 

___________________________________________

Part 4

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