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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Hey Angel - Harry Styles

a/n: since i had so much time on my hand at work lately (not anymore unfortunately) i used it wisely and cooked up this PA themed fic bc i absolutely love this trope. it’s lengthy and kinda emotional? kinda, lol. hope you’ll like it and as always, feedback is much appreciated!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.5k

masterlist

Harry likes to pretend he is tall enough to comfortably rest his chin on the top of your head when he stands behind you, but that’s not true. He has to push himself a little to his tippy toes and push you down at the same time to fit his chin above you, his arms weighing down on your shoulders. You stopped arguing him that you need to push your hips forward when he does this so you don’t carry his whole weight.

“Tha’s rude, you do not have to do tha’!” he defended himself every time you brought up, so you just stopped.

Now as you watch the game of air hockey unfold in front of you, a half empty pint in your hand, you don’t even budge when you feel a chiseled chin resting on the top of your head, you push your hips forward without a second thought to shorten your height. You catch a glimpse of a tattooed forearm on your shoulder, Harry’s chest presses against your back gently.

He doesn’t stay in this position too long, it’s making it hard to drink so soon enough, he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, coming to stand next to you, sipping on his tequila on the rocks.

“Hey you,” you smile at him as he gives you a side look, a boyish smirk tugging on his pink lips. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You need something? How much have you had to drink?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows, looking down at his glass that was certainly full when you last saw him about ten minutes ago.

“Shush, stop pretending like you’re working,” he waves at your face, his words melting together, definitely thanks to the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“I know I’m not working, I’m just tryna’ be your friend and look out for you.” Bringing your own drink up to your lips, you give him a look, but he just smirks at you playfully.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, H,” you sigh dramatically and it makes him laugh with his head falling back.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m some spoiled brat celebrity you ‘ave to babysit for your living? And that I always do ridiculous shit so you ‘ave to keep an eye on me at all times?”

You can’t push your smile down at how far this statement is from reality. You just like to tease him about being a typical, asshole rockstar when he is literally your favorite person in the world without a doubt.

“Oh Angel, you can’t fool me,” he cackles, squeezing you to his side before taking another sip from his drink.

“Wouldn’t even try to,” you mumble with an amused smile. “Havin’ fun, birthday boy?” you ask, leaning into his side. You would never admit, but you love how touchy Harry can get sometimes, not really caring about physical boundaries, especially when he drinks. The hugs, the squeezes, the touches, they always make your heart flutter even after knowing him for years.

“I’m havin’ a blast. What about you?”

“What about me? It’s not my birthday,” you chuckle shortly.

“So what? I can’t make sure you’re enjoying your night?” he frowns at you dramatically that just makes you laugh.

“I’m having a great night. It’s just that my boss keeps coming after me even though I’m supposed to be off the clock.”

You peek up at him to see the grin on his face at your teasing. The dynamic between the two of you has been like this since day one. The constant bickering and teasing is what really brought the two of you close, you are so similar, it’s like you can see a male version of yourself when you look at him.

“Tell the dude to fuck off,” he mumbles into his drink and you bump your hip against him, but he just holds you tight to his side as an answer.

Soon enough, Harry joins the game and you watch him play from the side, obviously cheering on his opponent to annoy him, earning some pretty dirty looks from him whenever they score against him and you let out a “woho!” in victory.

“Y’know, it’s not too nice to cheer against the birthday boy, is it?” he calls you out when the table is taken by someone else and he joins you at the side again.

“Am I not allowed to choose who I want to cheer to?” you ask with a faked puzzled look and he presses his lips into a thin line, glaring down at you intently.

“Don’t test me, Angel,” he grumbles into your ear before walking off to join his friends who came out to celebrate with him today.

It’s a pretty lowkey celebration, since he is still in the middle of filming Don’t Worry Darling, so he couldn’t really travel far from the set, but some of his dearest friends were able to come here and celebrate with him and his cast members.

You stand at the bar and your eyes find him every time you scan the place, not able to keep your gaze away from him for too long, he just demands the attention. Or at least yours.

You’ve never met anyone like him. When you got the chance to be his personal assistant four years ago at the very beginning of his solo career, you never thought how he’ll move right into your heart and never leave it. Whether you look at him as your boss or your friend, you can’t deny that he changed your life and you’ve learned so much from him, you can only hope he thinks of you somewhat the same. However you always tell yourself: what could you possibly give for The Harry Styles? He has everything in the whole wide world.

Harry catches you staring and he arches a brow at you, abandoning the conversation he has been in for the past minutes, mouthing you “what’s up, Angel”, his accent thick even without hearing his voice.

He’s been calling you Angel for longer than you can remember. When you asked him why the nickname, he said it’s because One Direction’s song Hey Angel was written about you. It was a fat lie, you haven’t met him when the song was written, but his words still tightened your chest, playing with the thought of Harry writing a song about you.

As cheesy and cliché as it is, you fell for him faster than you’d like to admit. You tried to fight it for a while, convince yourself it’s just a silly crush, but you soon had to realize you outgrew that after the first few weeks working with him. How could you not fall for him? He is everything any woman could wish for and he has you wrapped around his fingers, just like he has half the female population, probably.

You shake your head in his way, not sure how to tell him you just got lost in your thoughts about him. In fact, he occupies your mind pretty much all the time, but he doesn’t have to know about that.

He excuses himself from the table and walks up to you, a slow breath leaving your nose as you watch him approach you.

“Tired?” he asks, stopping in front of you, placing his empty glass to the counter.

“Kinda,” you nod.

“Want to head home soon?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can just call a taxi and go home, you don’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly, we go to the same place, obviously we’re gonna go home together.”

Since filming has started, Harry and you’ve been sharing a nice apartment near the set. It was his idea to rent a place for the two of you, rather than to stay at a hotel. At first you didn’t think it would be a good idea, but of course, he convinced you to live with him for the months while the movie is being filmed. So now you basically live with Harry, share pretty much all your living space with him, except your bedroom.

“But it’s your birthday, stay as long as you want,” you tell him, not wanting to snatch him away from his friends on his big day.

“We’re filming in the afternoon tomorrow, can’t drag the night too long either way,” he shrugs, trying to make you believe it’s really nothing.

No matter how badly you try to convince him to stay, he doesn’t bulge and starts saying goodbye within an hour, calling the two of you a car to take you home. He is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. Once you’re in the car, Harry’s hand finds yours and he pulls you closer in the backseat until your thighs are pressed together. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to his side, sinking down in the seat. You let your head rest on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness of his body, pressing down any worrying thought that usually makes its way to your mind every time Harry gets a little cozier than the usual.

The rational side of your brain knows you should be keeping some distance from him for the sake of your own sanity and emotional health, but you just can’t. Denying these little moments from yourself would be like pure torture and your heart can’t take that for sure.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling into your hair and you just shrug your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mumble your lie.

“Liar, I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” he grins down at you as your eyes lock for a moment. Thank God for the darkness in the car, because you can feel your cheeks heating up. The last thing you need is for Harry to see how nervous he can make you feel with just a simple compliment.

“Stop being nosy, you don’t have to know everything all the time.” You poke his side with your elbow, it makes him jump a little before he snuggles back to your side.

“That’s not true, you know I’m entitled to hold every knowledge in the world.” He tries to hide his smirk, but he fails miserably and you just laugh at him with your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, you are something else,” you sigh shaking your head at him.

Arriving home Harry keeps an arm around you as you walk up to the front door, fishing your keys out of your bag since you’d bet Harry didn’t bring his. There’s a chance he hasn’t even used his copy since you’ve been here, he knows you always have yours and you haven’t really left without each other so far, always staying around the other.

“Want to shower first?” he hums, walking inside, his arm leaving your shoulders and though you feel lighter without the extra weight, you wish it was still there.

“Go for it, I’m gonna clean up the mess I made when I got ready earlier,” you tell him, heading into your bedroom where the floor is littered with half your wardrobe from earlier, when you were trying to figure out what to wear for the little outing.

Harry disappears in the shared bathroom and a moment later you hear the water running. You go around your room, picking up the dresses you voted against, placing them back into the wardrobe and then you put away your makeup you left on your bed in your hurry.

“Bathroom is yours!” Harry calls out just when you finish, you hear his bedroom door open and close so you grab a clean oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts before occupying the bathroom.

The warm shower feels nice, it’s been a long day since you started on set, Harry had a few scenes to film before you could leave in the afternoon. You wash away the day, scrub your makeup off and then take off the rest with your wipes once you’re out. You brush your hair and use some lotion for your dry skin before getting dressed and leaving the steamy bathroom.

Padding down the short hallway you hear nothing coming from Harry’s bedroom and you wonder if he’s already asleep, but once you step inside your room you see that he is cozied up on your bed, your covers pulled up to his naked chest, a pillow tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone so shamelessly, as if it was his own room.

“Did you take the wrong turn in the hallway?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you throw your dirty clothes to your temporary hamper, which is basically your emptied out suitcase.

“Nope,” he grins smugly, you have to roll your eyes at him. He locks his phone, dropping it to the side table, watching you move around, getting ready for bed and his eyes on your figure feel like they’re burning down on your skin.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you comment not even looking at him, but you just know he is still staring at you. Grabbing a hairtie from the little dresses in the corner of your room you reach back to loosely braid your hair, but his voice stops you.

“Wait,” he pleads and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “Can I do it?”

You give him a confused look as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes are glimmering from the tiredness and the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“You want to braid my hair?”

“Yeah,” he nods. You hesitate for a moment but join him on the bed at last, turning your back against him, giving him full control over your hair.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers raking through your strands. He is so gentle and careful as you feel him section your hair off to three parts.

“Didn’t know you can braid,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the sheets in front of you.

“Gemma taught me, but I’m not the best at it.”

“So I’ll look atrocious?” you tease him smiling to yourself. He pokes the back of your neck with his fingers before continuing his work.

“You could never look atrocious, even if you tried.”

“And you are such a flirt,” you sigh. Over the years you’ve gotten used to his flirty act, it’s just who he is and though in the beginning your breath always got caught in your throat when he said something cheesy, now you just brush it off, only thinking about his words when you are alone in the night, struggling to fall asleep because you’re once again, thinking about him.

“M’telling the truth. Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Mmm,” you hum. He has told you that you looked pretty when the two of you left and he saw you walk out of your room in your black skinny jeans and flowy sheer top on, your hair loosely curled, but you didn’t really know what to say, so you just smiled at him and it’s the same now. You’re not the best at taking compliments.

“You really did. You always are.”

“And once again, you are such a flirt.”

“Complimenting a pretty woman is being a flirt?” he asks pretending to be offended as he carefully works on your hair and you wish you could see his focused face as he is trying to keep track of the sections between his fingers. At a lack of a witty comeback, you just shrug your shoulders, fumbling with your fingers on your lap.

You both fall silent as he concentrates on your hair and you manage to stop thinking, just focus on how his fingers keep brushing against your back every time he crosses two sections over each other.

“Hairtie, please,” he asks, his hand appearing next to you with his palm upwards. You place it in his hand and he finishes up his masterpiece. “There, it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought,” he comments once he is done. Reaching back you run your fingers over the braid and it feels good, he did a great job.

“Thanks,” you smile at him shyly, turning around. He leans back, making himself comfortable once again and you arch an eyebrow at him. “Need me to walk you back to your room, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine here,” he grins smugly, tugging his arm behind his head as he takes up the right side of the bed.

“You’re planning to sleep here?”

“Please, don’t make me sleep alone on my birthday!” he pouts, giving you those damned puppy eyes. How could you ever say no to him?

“You better not push me off the bed in your sleep,” you mumble before getting under the covers.

You turn off the bedside lamp and the two of you start moving around, finding a comfortable pose to sleep in and you end up facing each other on your sides, Harry’s face squished into the pillow as his eyes are roaming over the hand you have laid between your faces.

His fingers start to inch towards yours until he hooks his pinky with yours, the touch sending a warm feeling down your spine.

“I hate sleeping alone,” he mumbles into the semi-darkness.

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it when there’s someone next to you? When you wake up and you’re not alone?”

“I like it, but I don’t hate sleeping alone either,” you tell him as your eyes fall to your linked pinky fingers. “Why do you hate it? You have the bed all to yourself, and there’s no chance of waking up to someone snoring or talking in their sleep.”

He huffs out a laugh as he buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“It makes me feel lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I’m never alone.”

“But lonely and alone are not the same, so it’s not ridiculous. You can feel lonely when you’re not alone.”

“I know,” he nods, his eyes watching your linked fingers intently, before he moves his hand so it’s now covering yours, his warm palm wrapping around your much smaller hand. “I’m never lonely with you, though.”

“So… you are only lonely when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom, because we basically spend every moment of the day together.” You smirk at him and see his dimple form in his cheek as he smiles at you nodding.

“That’s right. We are like glued together.”

“How aren’t we sick of each other already?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“You sure about that?” You raise your eyebrows at him with an amused smile, he is too sure about that answer.

“One hundred percent. You’re my favorite person.”

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

He gives you a look, but you just chuckle, sinking further into your pillow. His fingers start playing with your hand as he draws a deep breath.

“I only tell this to m’ mum and Gemma. No one else.”

Your heart starts racing at the thought of him seeing you on the same level as his closest family. You know how much his mum and sister mean to him, but you never thought you are anywhere near them in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too,” you whisper as your eyes meet over your joined hands. He smiles at you warmly, his floppy curls falling into his forehead and you want to run your fingers through them, feel how soft they are under your touch. Harry scoots closer, your faces only a few inches away from each other as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

For a moment you just watch him, thinking how good it feels to have him in your bed. How amazing it is to end the day with him so close to you. You wish all days would end like this, you wouldn’t have another bad day with him next to you.

Lying there and watching him slowly fall asleep, his hand still on yours, the bitter thought eats itself into your mind that he is only here because he feels lonely and wanted to be close to someone, not you particularly. And though you’re glad it’s you he ended up next to, you try not to get too accustomed to the feeling, because you’re just a temporary fix to his loneliness.

The door to Harry’s trailer opens and he walks in wearing his blue dress pants and crispy white dress shirt, fumbling with the top buttons to undo them. You glance up at him from your laptop where you’ve been working on his schedule for the upcoming weeks while he was filming.

“Hey, how did it go?” you ask as he places his water bottle to the vanity and then sits in the chair he spends his mornings in while his hair is being styled and tattoos are covered.

“Good. Messed up only a few times. Whacha’ working on?”

“Just your schedule, I’ll email it to you when I’m done, though you never check it.”

“Hey, I do check it! I like your color coding. I just suck at using it and you’re always here to remind me of the important stuff.”

You roll your eyes, continuing to type away on your keyboard as he moves around, having a snack and texting back people.

“Florence is coming over for a little after we’re done. We can order something,” he speaks up grabbing your attention again.

“Cool,” you nod with a small smile. “Is she staying the night?”

“No, we just thought it would be nice to hang out a little without dressed like this,” he chuckles looking down at himself.

“What’s wrong with Jack’s clothes? You look neat.”

“Do I?” he cocks an eyebrow cheekily, placing his hands to his hips as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. It’s a nice change after all the grandpa clothes,” you tease him and he gasps pretending to be offended at your words, though you both know you have nothing against his style. In fact, you love how he just wears whatever he wants, not caring what others would think.

“Watch your mouth or you can’t wear my bode jacket again,” he warns you holding up his pointing finger, shaking it at you, but you just chuckle at him, finishing up what you’ve been working on before shutting the laptop down.

“How long until you’re done?”

“Just a few more scenes. I think we can leave in about two hours.”

“Alright.”

“You done working?”

“Mhm, for now.”

“Come and watch the filming. You’re always so hidden in here.”

“Because I always have work to do,” you point out, putting the laptop to the side from your lap.

“Yeah, but you’re done now, so come out and watch me be the next Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smugly tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so humble, H. Is something that comes with the age?” you tease him standing up from the small sofa, grabbing your phone from the table.

“You’ll find out in a year,” he smirks back as you follow him out of the trailer, back to the set.

Later that day you, Florence and Harry are chilling back at your apartment, munching on the pizza you ordered, watching some documentary on Netflix, just enjoying a lazy evening. You’ve become quite close with Florence, her personality is a lot like yours so you got along well from the beginning, the three of you often do things together outside of set.

You and Harry are sharing the couch while Florence is curled up on the loveseat. The temperature at the apartment is always nice, but you often catch yourself feeling a little cold in the evening, but it has more to do with the tiredness rather than with the heating of the place. When you pull your legs underneath you to warm your feet, Harry notices the action and knows right away that you’re starting to feel cold as always. Reaching down he grabs a blanket from the basket next to the couch and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, draping the blanket over the two of you. You shuffle closer to him, making yourself comfortable at his side as he makes sure you’re fully tugged in. Then he leaves an arm around you, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder as he turns his attention back at the movie.

Glancing over at Florence you see the puzzled look on her, but you ignore it biting into your bottom lip, turning back to watch the movie though you’re having a hard time focusing. All you can think about is Harry’s touch on you.

It’s almost midnight when Florence calls herself a taxi. Harry picks up the glasses you used and volunteers to wash them, leaving you and Florence alone in the living room.

“So, what’s up with you and Harry?” she questions right away without beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two has always been close, but now… it seems all too… couple-like.” She narrows her eyes at you, hands on her hips, looking like a mother questioning her daughter.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs. Then you pretend to be busy with folding the blanket, but you can feel her intent stare on you before she speaks up again. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” you huff with a not too Oscar-worthy expression on your face that was supposed to hide the panic in you. “Well of course I like him, he is my friend and boss.”

“But not just like that. You like like him.”

“Florence,” you sigh, just when Harry walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that he just interrupted.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he politely asks her, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m not really up for spending the night on the couch.”

“You wouldn’t have to, you can sleep in my bed,” he simply offers and something is telling you he shouldn’t open his mouth again.

“You’re not taking the couch because of me.”

“I wouldn’t, I usually sleep at Y/N’s,” he states as if it was nothing, but you instantly freeze.

Yes, ever since his birthday he has spent way more nights in your bed than in his own, always raving to you how well he can sleep when you’re next to him and you couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling lonely, so you’ve been letting him occupy half of your bed through the nights. He usually holds your hand falling asleep and then you wake up tangled together, sometimes he is cuddling you from behind, other times you’re the one curled up to his side. He treats it so casually, like it really is nothing, he just always goes on his day when you wake up so you decided to not make it into a big deal either.

Florence gives you a wide eyed look that you try hard to ignore, while Harry is so oblivious to what he just caused with his statement.

“I uhh—thanks but I’m fine going home. Besides, I think my car is already here. See you guys on set tomorrow. Y/N?” she calls out walking towards the front door.

“Hm?”

“We’ll talk later,” she tells you and it’s a strong message that she won’t just leave it at that.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nod awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

You and Harry clean up together and as always, he is the first one to use the bathroom and by the time you’re done, he is in your bed, waiting for you to join him. You don’t comment on his presence anymore, part of you afraid he would stop spending the night in your bed and you definitely don’t want that. Not much is left from filming, meaning that soon you are forced to go home where you and Harry do not live at the same place so you’re gonna have to sleep alone, like you did before. Only now you are way too hooked on the feeling of having him in your bed, even if it’s not in the way you truly want, it’s better than nothing.

The moment you get under the sheets, Harry reaches out and pulls you to his side. He hasn’t done this often when you went to sleep, only sneaking some small touches, but you don’t mind him being a little extra clingy.

“Filming is almost over,” you mumble into his chest, your hand lazily resting where his ribcage ends in his chest.

“Mhm.” There’s a short silence before he speaks up again. “What about it, Angel?”

“It’s just that it’s going to be weird going home. I got used to living here.” It’s your way saying that you’re gonna miss having him around all the time, but you’re not sure if he understands the hint. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You like cramped together with me?” he chuckles lowly.

“Was kinda nice,” you smile.

“Remember how you threatened me to throw my shit out if I leave my dirty clothes on the floor?”

“I do,” you smirk, thinking back to the conversation where you agreed to live with him while he is filming. “Didn’t find any clothes on the floor, so you get an A for that.”

“Wow, was this… a compliment?”

“Shut up, I always compliment you!” you laugh smacking his chest gently.

“Oh, no. You don’t compliment, you just tell me when I managed not to fuck something up,” he corrects you and your cheeks are heating up about how well he knows you.

“Those are compliments in my book, don’t be greedy.”

“M’not. I love how grounded you keep me with treating me like this.”

“Like what?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Like a normal person. With you, I don’t have to be afraid that I earn something because of who I am. You give no shit about my name, you always keep me in check and I appreciate that.”

“Can’t let you have a too big of a head,” you smirk, closing your eyes. He laughs with you, squeezing you a little before you both fall into silence, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You’ve managed to avoid Florence in the past few days. Her burning look has been making you way too nervous, you know she wants to know more about what’s going on between you and Harry, but truth to be told, you have no idea what to tell her.

Yeah, I’m definitely in love with him and we’ve been sharing a bed for a few weeks because he feels lonely alone at night, so he uses me to ease the feeling while I just let him because as I said, I’m in love with the man.

No, you can’t tell her that.

Now there’s only two days left from filming, meaning that only two more nights to spend with Harry and it’s making you a nervous wreck to think about sleeping alone in your bedroom.

You round the corner in the maze of the trailers after a phone call you had with Jeff when you run out of luck and bump right into Florence.

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Come have lunch with me in my trailer,” she smiles sweetly, grabbing you by your hand so you can’t escape her this time.

“Oh I wanted to call—“

“Do it later,” she simply cuts you off.

Soon, you find yourself in her trailer as she eats her burger while she eyes you with suspicion.

“So, you and Harry sleep together?”

“Well, not like that. We really just sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, makes perfect sense, sleeping in the same bed as your boss. Very casual.”

“Don’t make it sound so weird,” you frown at her words. You definitely don’t see Harry as your boss. You do work for him, but it never felt like he stands anywhere above you, the two of you have always been equal even before you became close friends.

“You gotta admit it’s pretty unusual,” she points out and you just look away from her. “So let’s talk about how you’re in love with him.”

“What? I never said that!” you protest, but she just gives you a look that says ‘cut the crap, girl’ and you know there’s no use to try to trick her, she sees right through you. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I have enough shit on my plate without your judgment.”

“Oh, I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering why you two are not together already.”

You practically snort at her statement, finding it quite absurd and ridiculous.

“What? You two are perfect for each other and I’m pretty sure Harry loves you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“That’s not how friends act, Y/N. He wouldn’t beg himself into your bed every night if he was just your friend.”

“He is just lonely. He doesn’t need me, just someone to be with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffs. “You two are just being idiots.” Just as you are about to answer, your phone starts ringing. Harry’s smiley face appears on the screen, making you extremely nervous because of the conversation you are having with Florence.

“Hey,” you breathe out answering the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Just, talking with Florence. What’s up?”

“I got an email from Jeff and I have some questions.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Thank you Angel,” he hums before ending the call.

“I gotta go. Please don’t… bring any of this up for Harry,” you ask Florence, heading to the exit.

“You’ve gotta sort your shit out. This is not ideal, Y/N.”

“I know it,” you growl under your breath, leaving the trailer. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you march back to Harry’s trailer. You feel so confused and anxious about this whole situation and the worst thing is that you have no idea what to do about it. Telling him how you feel seems like a stupid idea, but mostly because you’re terrified of rejection. What if it all meant nothing to him? If you were right and he is just lonely and uses you to help himself, it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t survive the heartbreak it would give you if he told you he doesn’t see you more than just a friend.

As you walk into his trailer he is sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hands. He glances up at you, a warm smile tugging on his lips as you take a deep breath, feeling very much out of place suddenly. Unfortunately, he immediately senses your discomfort.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

Angel. This nickname could make your knees go weak in a heartbeat and you hate how much effect it has on you. Especially in this state of mind you’re currently in.

“I just…” You shake your head shutting your eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you ask, sounding way more desperate than you intended to. Harry puts his phone aside, looking a little puzzled at your sudden weird act, but he seems more worried for you.

“I, uhh—“

“And don’t tell me it’s because Hey Angel is about me. We didn’t know each other back then.”

You have no idea where this is coming from or why you even questioned him about it all of a sudden, but Florence just totally threw you off with what she just said. Harry stares back at you, probably vigorously looking for the reason why you are acting up now, but luckily, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke as always.

“I call you Angel, because you remind me of the song. It wasn’t written about you, but the lyrics match up with… you.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“I wish I could be more like you, do you wish you could be more like me?” he quotes the song, not singing the words, simply just talking them as he stares back at you. “I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head,” he continues and you feel your throat doing dry just from the way he softly speaks, standing only a few feet away from you. “I come alive when I hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise.”

You never really gave it another thought, but now that he has told you this, it hit you hard in the chest. You weren’t expecting, especially because those lines are rather meaningful, to you at least.

“I thought of it once not long after we first met and thought calling you Angel would suit you. Do you mind it? I can just… stop calling you that if you don’t like it.”

You shake your head. You never want him to stop calling you that even if it’s not that meaningful for him. If it’s just some game. It’s great to know that something reminded him of you.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Your voice is small, barely more than just a whisper. It’s a little too much at once. Florence’s words are still stuck in your head, and what he just said has felt like he just gripped your heart even if he doesn’t know.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back from this hazy state of mind.

“So, what about that email?”

“You alright?” Reaching forward he takes your hand and you try not to flinch at his touch, just smile at him nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it and he luckily doesn’t ask any more questions.

You stay oddly quiet for the rest of the day and Harry surely knows something is wrong, but he respects you enough not to bug you about it any longer. He just stays close to you as much as he can, trying his best to take your mind off of whatever keeps you occupied.

On the way home you and Harry drop by a supermarket, buy some quick dinner, not wanting to stack the fridge when you’re leaving so soon. Then you sit in the living room, eating and watching some random movie that’s on TV. You snuggle to his side on the couch naturally, he doesn’t even have to pull you close this time. The thought of having left only one more night in the apartment makes you want to sue every little moment you have left in this bubble.

Harry makes you have a shower first tonight and when you come out from the bathroom, your bed is already nicely made, inviting you warmly. He is quick to finish with his shower and joins you in bed barely five minutes later. You move towards each other instantly, his arms curling around your form soothingly as you make yourself comfortable, melted into his embrace. You feel his lips pressing against your forehead and you almost start crying at the small action.

“Angel, I don’t know what has upset you, but I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone,” he murmurs softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I would do anything for you, just like you do so much for me. You’ve got me.”

I wish, you think to yourself. You have him, but not the way you’ve been desiring. His hand moves to cup your face as he lifts your head so you are looking into his eyes in the darkened room, but there’s enough light coming through the window that you see his features. He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to control yourself. And just as you think about how you really should put some distance between the two of you so you won’t regret it later, the unexpected happens.

Harry pulls you up just enough so when he moves his head he is able to place his lips on yours, kissing you out of the blue. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly. It’s an out of world experience, you’ve imagined it so many times, but you never thought it would actually happen and now that it is very much happening, your whole mind goes blank and for a split second… everything feels right. You kiss him back with fever and with each passing moment the kiss grows more passionate and way hungrier than how it started. Harry’s arm tightens around you, almost pulling you on top of him and you can’t make yourself stop, not that you want to.

With a little force, Harry pushes the two of you around so now you’re lying on the mattress and he holds himself up above you, his lips never disconnecting from yours. He licks into your mouth, pulling and tugging on your lips, making your whole body go weak just for him.

But then, as if reality hit you in the head, you realize what’s happening.

“Harry,” you gasp pulling back, gasping for air. “This—We…”

“Angel, let me take care of you. Please,” he begs out of breath.

“What…”

“I want to make you feel good. I want to take care of you, please let me.” He sounds so desperate, like he would do anything for this and you are not strong enough to deny it from him.

It’s just his pity. He’s been using you for his needs, now he wants to give some back, it’s nothing more, you think to yourself. It can’t be more.

You lack the willpower to make a rational decision, so as you stare up into his eyes that appear so dark due to the lack of proper lighting, you just nod before he leans down and kisses you again.

He holds himself up on one arm while his free hand wanders down your body, touching you at places you have never felt him before. He palms your left breast, squeezing it gently and it makes you moan into his mouth before his hand moves down the curve of your waist until it reaches your sleeping shorts. Your body is burning for him and you can’t stop it from reacting to everything he does. You buckle your hips up when you feel his fingers gently graze along your pubic bone, even though you’re still fully clothed.

“What do you want me to do, Angel? I’ll do anything you want me to,” he pants between kisses as his hand moves to cup your heated core, making you moan again from the sensation of his touch there.

“I need you,” is all you manage to get out.

“I’m right here. You got me. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me, Angel,” he whines, forehead pressed against yours and his hips fall, pressing against your thigh, making you realize how excited he has gotten. His erection is hard under the fabric of his boxers, almost aching to be freed. There’s no way you can take any teasing or a long foreplay. You need him inside you now before you burst.

“Harry, I need you inside me. Please,” you whimper, almost cry, before he kisses you again, hard and demanding as he simply pushes your shorts down, revealing your naked sex since you don’t wear any underwear to bed. You grab the waistband of his boxers too and push it down until he can wiggle his legs out of them, leaving him completely naked in your bed while you still have a top covering your upper body, however he is quick to change that. He grabs the hem and starts pulling it off, your hands helping him so a few moments later you’re completely naked underneath him.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his perfect, pink lips attacking the side of your throat, kissing and nibbling on the skin, going down to your breasts, giving the same amount of attention to both while you turn into jelly under his touch. lacing your fingers through his hair you cry out his name as you can feel him leaving a mark on your left breast, his tongue swirling against the spot he just completely destroyed before he brings himself back up so he can kiss you again and again with so much hunger, it’s hard to tell where you end and where he starts. Everything melts together and you’re such a mess in every possible way.

His hand gently reaches down between your legs and parts your shaking thighs before he cups you drenched pussy, his middle finger sliding between your folds, a shameless moan slipping from your mouth, right into his as your lips are still attached.

“So wet, I can’t wait to make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Harry, just… please,” you pant, surely feeling yourself lose the last bits of your nerves.

“D’you have a condom?” he asks, head lifting up a bit so he can look into your eyes.

“I-In my, um, the makeup bag,” you try to explain gesturing towards your dresser where your makeup bag sits on top, two condoms somewhere inside it. Harry pecks your lips before pulling away from you, the lack of his weight on top of you making you shiver.

He digs into the bag until he finds what he’s been looking for, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and he rolls it on while he walks back, not wasting another moment. You cling onto him like a koala bear once he is back in bed, his massive body covering you again.

“Just tell me how you like it, I’ll do anything,” he mumbles against your shivering lips as he pushes the head in first, stopping for a second before the rest of his cock buries inside you, completely taking your breath away. He is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, filling up every inch of you, your walls stretching around him as he stills once he is all the way inside you.

This is it. This is the moment you’ve imagined oh so many times, feeling him the closest possible, his cock buried inside you, his cheek pressed against yours as he holds himself up on top of you. Years of yearning and endless nights when you imagined your hand was his… and now it’s your reality. And though you know it’s gonna change everything, you can’t tell yourself to stop.

Harry lifts his head, pecking your lips gently, calling you Angel over and over again as he starts moving, the friction between your legs growing with each thrust. He fits inside you so well, you won’t be able to enjoy sex with anyone else now that you’ve experienced it with Harry. All of a sudden, he has become the epitome of your whole life.

“Tell me what you want, Angel. Do you want me to go slow or fast? Tell me how to make you feel good.” His lips brush against yours with each word while you’re just trying to catch your breath, fingers digging into his back, the euphoria building up inside you gradually.

“A little faster,” you breathe out, speaking feels like a hard task at the moment. Harry picks his pace up, finding just the right rhythm that makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper with each thrust he makes.

“Look at me, Angel. Let me see your eyes,” he begs, his hand cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along the line of your lower lip before he takes it between his lips, tugging on it gently, kissing you like you’re his last breath on Earth. He is devouring you, body melts together with yours, all your senses are strictly focused on him. He is all you see, hear, feel and taste.

Your gaze meets his and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole entire world, it makes your eyes tear up. You want it to be true, you want it to be reality, you want it to be more than just about needs and satisfaction, but it’s not and your consciousness is not letting you believe otherwise.

“Oh Angel,” he softly hums, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye and ran down the side of your face. Keeping up his rhythm he kisses along your jawline, your cheek, your lips, the side of your face, the bridge of your nose, everywhere he can before returning to your lips with a hungry, passion filled kiss.

“Harry…” you whimper, holding your thighs tighter around his waist as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Let it go for me, Angel. I wanna see you feel good, cum for me,” he tells you, eyes never leaving yours as you are ready to burst underneath him.

“Harry, I-I need you!” The words fall from your lips as a desperate beg, arms wrapping around his torso tight, as if he could disappear from your embrace any moment.

“I’m right here, Angel. Right here,” he soothes you, kissing your lips sweetly as proof that he is not just a trick your mind is playing on you. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you pant, losing control over your body and all your senses. It’s gonna be intense, you can tell and it hasn’t even started yet, you just know it’ll shake you to the core.

“Good girl. Let me make you feel good.” “So good,” you breathe out before Harry occupies your lips with his once again.

It doesn’t take long. He keeps thrusting in the perfect angle and it throws you right over the edge. Harry demands you look him in the eyes when your orgasm wash you over and the intensity of it all almost makes you cry again. You burst, lose yourself under him, screaming his name as if you were praying to all higher forces. In a way, you are, because for a moment you really think you completely vanish from this world.

Harry follows you just a few more thrusts later, falling out of his rhythm as he grunts and moans your name, face buried into the crook of your neck while you tug on his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers is like pure heaven.

He stills, but stays inside you as he looks up, his eyes filled with satisfaction and contentment as he cups your face again, kissing you long, taking his time with you.

As you come off your high and the clouds of euphoria clears off, reality sets in more painfully than ever. Your limbs are paralyzed and you feel like you are outside your own body, just watching everything happen as if you were a third person in the room. Harry rolls to the side, chest heaving wildly as he is trying to regulate himself. Once he is able to breathe without panting, he pecks your shoulder gently and makes a quick round to the bathroom. You hear water running and then his feet padding on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to move, you just lie there, completely drained out. It doesn’t change even when Harry gently cleans you off with a damp washing cloth, throwing it to the side to take care of it in the morning. He pulls the covers over the two of you and scoops you into his arms. You manage to bring your arm up to his chest as your head rests on his shoulder. His fingers are dancing up and down your arm, his steady breathing keeping your overcrowded head grounded. And then… he starts singing so softly, it’s almost just a whisper.

“Hey Angel, oh, I wish I could be more like you. Do you wish you could be more like me?”

Your eyes shut close, the damn tears flooding again, but you keep your sobs drowned in your throat. Instead you force yourself to sleep and hope you live to see the morning, because you feel like your heart is about to give up on you.

When you wake up, you genuinely feel like you’ve drunk through last night and now have the worst hangover. It’s like you’ve been hit on the head with a chair. You slowly come to your senses and realize that you’re completely naked in bed and there’s a body curled to your side, equally naked.

The shock sets in first because you realize, once again, that what happened last night wasn’t just a fever dream, it actually happened. And then you basically jump out of bed when you look at the small digital clock on the bedside and see that the two of you have ten minutes to leave if you don’t want to be late to the last day of filming.

“Harry! Harry get up!” you smack him, kicking the covers off and grabbing your top and shorts from the floor, quickly putting them on. The man in talk growls, just rolling to his back without even opening his eyes. “Harry damn it! We have ten minutes or you’ll be late!” you snap at him and it somewhat wakes him up. With furrowed eyebrows at puckered lips, he lifts his head up and looks around.

Those lips were kissing you last night.

“What?” he mumbles in confusion.

“We overslept, get up. We have… eight minutes left.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, finally getting out of bed, reaching for his boxers.

It’s a shitshow as the two of you try to get ready on time and though you are running just a few minutes late, the driver of the taxi manages to speed down the streets fast enough that you arrive to set just in time.

During the whole ride, you feel Harry’s burning eyes on you, but thank God, you get a call from Jeffrey the moment you get into the car and it lasts the whole ride so you don’t have to talk with him about what happened last night.

“Y/N,” he tries when you’re still on the phone and he is already done with hair and makeup, heading to set to start filming.

“What?” you mouth at him.

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy. Go, I’m sure they are waiting for you,” you whisper to him and he looks so disappointed, but he nods and walks away. Your heart breaks as you lower the phone. You have been out of the call for some time, just didn’t want to talk to him.

Quite frankly, you’re not ready to talk to him about what happened last night. You don’t want to hear him say that he was just trying to help you out last night, that it wasn’t anything serious, just some messing around. It was just two people trying not to feel lonely.

Walking back into his trailer you can feel your chest tightening, a sharp pain shooting right into your heart the more you think about him. It was a mistake, you shouldn’t have done it because you are the one with the feelings and now you are the one struggling with the consequences of your little get together.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets and you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You need to get out of here, there’s no way you can face him now.

It all happens so fast. Before you can even second guess your decision, you’re on your way back to the apartment to pack all your stuff and get on the first flight back home. You need to put distance between you and him, spending one more night in the same apartment would make you go nuts. So while Harry is filming, completely oblivious to what you’re doing, you pack up your room as fast as possible and head to the airport to hop on the plane that leaves at four pm.

With a racing heart you check all your baggage in and make it through security when Harry first calls you. At first, you want to ignore it, but then you find yourself swiping your thumb across the screen.

“Hey,” you shortly greet him.

“Hey, where are you? Have been looking for you everywhere.” “I um… I’m at the airport,” you answer and the silence on the other end is deafening for a moment.

“You are at the what?” he then snaps.

“I had a, um, kind of emergency, so I’m heading back home now. Sorry, I would have called you, but didn’t know when you’d be off set.”

“You fucking packed and left already? You’re really at the airport?” He is fuming, Raging. You can tell he is pacing in the trailer, vigorously running his fingers through his hair, ruining it without a care. You almost feel guilty, but then again, you just know facing him now would break you. You’ll get back to him when you’ve pulled your shit together.

“I am, calm down, alright? Not a big deal.” “You just left on our last day here without a fucking word! And when am I seeing you again?”

“I, uhh—I need to be home for a while, but you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in touch with you in email and text.”

“Fucking text? Email?” he is barking now. Good thing you are not there because it would be a disaster. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. We-we were supposed to talk. You can’t just fucking disappear like this.”

“We’ll talk, alright?”

“When?”

“Later,” you simply tell him at a loss for a better answer. Hopefully, never, you think to yourself, but don’t say it out loud.

“Okay, you’re not doing this. Don’t you dare get on a plane, I’m going to the airport right now. You’re not leaving.”

“Well, I am and you’re not coming here,” you clap back, but you can already hear him moving around, probably gathering his stuff so he can leave right away.

“Swear to God if you get on that plane, I’m—“ He cuts himself off, no idea what to really say and you just sigh, closing your eyes. People rush by you and as you glance at the big screen you see that your plane is boarding.

“Harry, just… it’ll be better like this, alright? You’ll be fine, I’ll see you… when I see you. Have fun on your last day on set.”

You end the call before he could get another word out and put it on airplane mode right away as you grab your backpack and head to your gate.

Using your time on the plane wisely, you put together a very detailed schedule for Harry so he knows everything about his next few weeks and you can minimize your contact with him. You even set up a bunch of reminders in his calendar so he won’t miss his appointments.

When you set feet on the ground again, you expect the distance between you and Harry to feel comforting and freeing, but it’s the opposite. An ache in your chest is getting heavier as you get yourself a taxi and head home, feeling more alone than ever in your life.

Your home doesn’t feel like a home. Not without that one person who could make any place your home, but you can’t see him right now, not until you learn how to exist around him without the urge to faint.

Going to bed alone is pure torture. Every moment you are waiting to hear Harry shuffling around in the apartment, you miss his little snorts when he is watching the TV, his singing coming from the shower, but most importantly, you miss having him so close to you in bed. Now that you’re lying on your own, your bed feels so cold, it brings you tears as reality sets in. You miss him. You miss him more than anything and you can’t imagine a time when it won’t hurt anymore.

The crying pushes you into a shallow slumber sometime in the middle of the night, however, you’re rudely shaken back to consciousness when you hear someone banging on your door like crazy, pushing the doorbell constantly.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble with a grimace, pulling a hoodie on as you make your way to the door hazily, probably still half asleep because you open the door without checking who it is through the peephole and you end up staring up at none other than Harry. “What the—What are you doing here?” you breathe out, panic sets in fast and your hands start shaking at the sight of him.

Harry steps inside without invitation and closes the door behind him, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking when you left like that?”

“I-I told you, it was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency? Because I called your mom and sisters, they all said nothing happened in the family, so what could possibly happen that needed you here immediately?”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Shaking your head you try to step back to put some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you, taking a step forward at the same time.

“Well I think we have a lot to talk about after last night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you shake your head biting into your bottom lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why couldn’t he just stay where he was? “How did you even get here so fast?”

“Left as soon as we wrapped.”

“Where are all your stuff?”

“Left everything there, I’ll just go back and pack it up, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a girl who genuinely hates any form of working out, you ran pretty fast from you today.”

Any other day you would have laughed at his comparison, but not today. You just stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you try to figure out what to do or say. You were not ready to face him so soon.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask desperately, throwing your hands into the air.

“Tell me what it meant for you,” he calmly answers and you want to shake him. How is he so peaceful?

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this to myself, okay? I need time, Harry.”

“For what?”

“So I can get myself over this, alright? I need time, I—fuck this,” you growl, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. Damn it!

“Why the fuck do you want to get yourself over it?”

“Because it obviously didn’t mean the same thing to me as it meant to you!” you snap at him and he raises his eyebrows at you in a way that tells you “you’re stupid”.

“What do you think it meant to me?”

“Probably nothing,” you scoff rolling your eyes, but the anger that bursts from him quickly washes your attitude away.

“Fucking nothing? You think I would get on a fucking plane first thing after filming for ten hours straight just to come after you? You think I spent all my nights with you these past weeks because you mean nothing to me? You know, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

You blink at him in utter confusion, his words knocked you off your feet. He exhales sharply, long fingers running through his messy curls as he tries his best to calm himself down. When he is finally breathing somewhat normally his wildly vibrant green eyes meet your widened stare.

“Y/N, I thought we were on the same page. What did you think it was all about?” he softly asks, seeing how shook you still are.

“I, uhh—I thought this was all just some kind of distraction. You said you were feeling lonely, I thought you were just… kind of using me. And then last night was you returning the favor.”

“Hell no,” he breathes out shaking his head as he steps closer and this time you don’t back away from him. You let his hands run down your arms until they find your hands. “I thought this was clear, but I’m gonna say it then. I’m in love with you, Y/N, have been for a long time, I was just being a pussy and didn’t know how you’d take it. But then, when you didn’t kick me out of your bed the first night we slept together, it got me hoping and it was all heading just the right direction. Then last night happened and I was so damn sure this would be our turning point but then…” He breathes out shakily again, as if the thought still upsets him. “When I called you and you said you were at the airport… I love you, Angel, but I was ready to murder you.”

You let out a faint chuckle, feeling the tears bubbling in your eyes.

“Why did you run away instead of talking to me? Did you not trust me?” he asks softly, a hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.

“I didn’t trust myself,” you admit weakly.

“Oh Angel…” Leaning down he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips feel like soft feathers against your hot skin. “Do you need me to tell you again how in love I am with you or are you gonna believe me? You’re not planning to run away again, are you?” he teases you making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“I’m not gonna run away, but I would love to hear you say you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Angel, don’t you ever think otherwise for a moment, okay?”

You nod, lips curling into your mouth as your teary eyes meet his green orbs.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he chuckles breathing out in relief and it makes you smile. “I would never just use you. Love you way too much for that, Angel. You are everything to me.”

“Wish I knew that earlier,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. It would have saved you a lot of tears.

“I will never stop saying it to you.” His forehead rests against yours, noses touching as his arms curl around your frame, pulling you close to him until you’re pressed up against his hard chest. “Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking when I told you, you reminded me of Hey Angel? Because I think it pretty much gave me away, but apparently, I was wrong,” he chuckles lowly, pulling back a little so he can look you in the eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. “I just had a conversation with Florence before that where she called me out about my feelings for you and I was still kind of in shock. Probably took it as just your usual flirty behavior.”

“I’ll admit I do flirt some, but haven’t you realized it’s different with you?”

“I guess not.” “Angel, you are… something else,” he chuckles in disbelief before leaning down he finally presses his lips against yours. You giggle into his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, twirling you around, a squeal slipping from your mouth.

“So, now you have to go back to pack your stuff?” you question, still wrapped into his arms completely and you don’t want to exist any other way. This is where you belong.

“Yeah. Had to chase down this Angel who thought she could run away from me.”

“So how are you planning to get to New York by four tomorrow when you’re still here and have to go back to pack? Have you checked the schedule I sent you? You’re not gonna make it.” You cock your head to the side with an arched brow.

“Did you just go back to full assistant mode right after we confessed our love for each other?”

“Someone has to be responsible and we both know it’s always me.”

“I’ll just hire someone to do it for me, I’ll leave to New York from here. Happy?” he grins at you as you nod.

“Very. Because this means you can stay the night here.”

“Seeing the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, because even my house keys are in the suitcase I left back… I very much need to stay here for the night,” he points out.

“Good. Come on, my bed felt empty without you,” you giggle, pulling him towards your bedroom and he follows you eagerly.

“I can definitely help that.”

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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omg omg i know matthews birthday isnt for a couple weeks but i would die for a bday sex one shot omg

i made you wait so long for this i'm so sorry omg. one-shots usually take me longer bc i want them to be detailed!

summary: reader has plans for Matthew’s 41st birthday, but things take their own turn.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), degradation, Soft!Dom Matthew with some fluff, too; fingering, creampie, implied age gap.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

I haul the enormous bag of flour onto the counter, grunting. it's early afternoon, and my day has been spent wrapping all of Matthew's gifts and trying to plan out the perfect birthday celebration. he's turning 41, and all I want is for him to feel as special as he feels to me. the cake is the last piece of the puzzle, and I'm hoping that my less-than-excellent culinary skills improve over the course of the next few hours.

I set out all the ingredients first, swaying to my music while I go through the recipe and decide how much I need. it shouldn't be too complicated, right? just chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. I thought I'd try to recreate the Rumple Buttercup cartoon with it, but now I'm not so sure. that might be flirting with disaster.

instead of deciding right there, I just get started on the batter. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

the air is thick with sweetness and warmth as the oven slowly pre-heats and I stir together the silky smooth chocolate batter. I pour the mix into a round baking pan, tapping it a bit to make sure it's even, before pushing it into the oven. naturally, I lick the whisk clean.

my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see that Matthew's texted me.

on my way home now!

my heart stutters in my chest as I check the time. he's definitely early; he told me this morning that he wouldn't be at home until at least seven. my eyes flicker to the cake, over the messy kitchen, and back to my screen.

early?

yep. can't wait to see you. followed by a series of heart emojis. I start to panic a little. this throws my whole schedule off; I was going to do my hair, pick up food from his favorite restaurant, set the table, litter the bed with rose petals. I wanted everything to be just right for him; it's the first time he's had a birthday with me.

and now he's going to come home to me with flour-dusted cheeks and a half-baked cake. I quickly clean the kitchen and wipe my face before running off to the bedroom, rifling through my closet for something nice. thank god I already showered this morning because there's no way I'd have time now. I find the dress I'd planned to wear, red and slinky and pretty, before dropping my clothes and changing right away.

truly, I move at the speed of light when I do my hair, scatter the rose petals, and call the restaurant to get our order started. we'll need to run out and get it, but Matthew likes going for walks, so that shouldn't be a problem.

the smell of chocolate wafts through the house while I tie an apron around my waist and get a bowl out of the cabinets. the cake needs to cool for a while, but I might as well get started on the frosting. who knows how long that'll take?

too damn long, apparently.

Matthew opens the front door while I'm halfway through my crumb coat, the soft green shade of the Rumple Buttercup colors coming along nicely. I start to panic a little when I hear his footsteps on the stairs.

"Y/N!" he calls out.

"kitchen!" I respond without moving. he probably shouldn't see the cake, but at this point it's too late. there's fluffy buttercream frosting and food coloring all over my apron. all I can do is wait patiently as he strolls into the room.

"what are you up to?" he sets his hand on my back, smiling.

"making your cake, birthday boy."

"mmm." he wraps a hand around my arm, drags it down while leaning his chin on my shoulder. "looks really nice so far."

"you like the color?" I ask.

"I do." he mumbles, starting to touch my waist. "what material is this?"

"silk."

"you know I love that." he squeezes my waist and I have to resist the blush spreading up my cheeks. he's affectionate right now, and I want to resist, but it's hard.

"what're you doing?" I question playfully in response to the drifting of his fingers down my thighs.

"I'm excited to see you."

"I'm excited to see you, too, but we have a strict schedule tonight."

Matthew groans and drops his head into the space between my neck and shoulder. his hands don't leave my hips.

"why?" he whines.

"because I want you to have the best birthday ever." I smooth off the top of the cake, sighing when he digs his fingernails into me. it feels heavenly, and the featherlight kisses he's leveling on my jaw are making me woozy.

"making me wait?" he brushes over my ass, squeezing the flesh lightly. "that's cruel."

I laugh a little and swipe my finger through the frosting.

"try this and tell me if I'm still cruel."

he grabs my hand in both of his, sliding my index into his mouth and licking it off of me. my jaw drops in surprise before he pulls away and drops it. it's unbelievably sexy.

"that is really good." he smiles, then kisses my cheek in an alarmingly innocent manner. he knows what he's doing. "don't be a tease, darling."

"you--" I stutter, trying to regain my concentration. it's futile at this point; it isn't until he moves away from my body that I'm able to keep working on the cake. he only glances with a knowing smirk, walking around the counter to sit across from me.

"how was your day?"

"my day was jam-packed with planning for a little ingrate's birthday." I joke.

"I'm not an ingrate." he protests. one look at his pout and I feel guilty for teasing. standing on tiptoes, I lean over the counter and plant a kiss on his mouth.

"you're right, I'm sorry," I sigh. "I just had a whole plan and when you came home early, I didn't have time for all of it."

"what can I do?" he offers immediately. I scowl.

"you're not gonna help me prepare your birthday celebration, silly."

"but I wanna make it easier."

"you wanna make it easier?" I ask, the corners of my lips quirking up. he nods enthusiastically and I hold his gaze. "I need to go pick up our dinner, so you can walk with me."

"ooh, yes!" he leaps up in an almost child-like manner, coming around to my side again. I nuzzle into his shoulder as I finish piping the face onto the cake. he snorts when he sees the completed project. "is that Rumple?"

"shut up, it looks so bad." I complain. my body leans into his in defeat. even though I tried, Rumple looks like he's been possessed and exorcised in one sitting: he's got crazy eyes and a lopsided face.

"no, it's beautiful," he pecks the top of my head. "he's supposed to look funny."

all I can do is turn around and hug him, giggling at the absolute monstrosity that I've created. he wraps his arms around me tightly and we start to sway a little.

"I feel like Victor Frankenstein." I laugh. he untangles our bodies to tilt my chin up and look at him.

"you're way cuter." he rubs my nose with his own. I'm smiling so big, it hurts. he makes me so unbelievably happy, I can't imagine not being by his side. Matthew is the best boyfriend in the world, and I really want everything to live up to his expectations.

our fingers thread together briefly before we get ready to go pick up our food.

...

"I am literally going to combust." I giggle, throwing my napkin onto the table. red wax drips down the sides of the candle between us, and Matthew's eyes are starry as he watches me talk.

"good?" he asks.

"amazing. how was yours?"

"could barely get it down." he gestures to the empty plate. I throw my head back and laugh more than I should. Matthew frowns. "what?"

"that's such a dad joke."

"really?" he laughs along with me until we're both just smiling brightly at each other. I don't want to step too far; we've been dating under a year, still. but I see myself with Matthew forever. we've already moved in together; I've never felt so strongly as I feel for him, and I think that he feels it, too. in our bones.

"yes, but I like dad jokes."

"come here." he holds his arms out and I get up from the table, walking over to sit on his lap. he shifts so I can be more comfortable, and I place both hands on my stomach.

"I have such a food baby right now."

"do you?" he sets one hand over the bump. I lean my head into his shoulder, curling up a little. he starts to rub my tummy gently, holding me close while we sit in a relative quiet. "I like it."

"mmm." I hum, wrapping my arms around his neck. although he could easily turn this sexual, he doesn't. we just linger, breathing and letting our food settle. I really am full; the chances of me falling asleep are higher than not.

I ask Matthew to tell me more about his day as I sit there, and the rumble of his voice in his chest is soothing. as the candle wax drips further and further down, I watch it with lethargic eyes. I've had a hard year-- Matthew's made it better. he can read me like a book, and he listens like I've got all the answers in the world. I love him. and when I head to the kitchen to slice the cake, he follows me with his arms around my waist. we move like two people who have been together a long time, like we can anticipate the next person's movement down to the flicker of their eye contact, down to their step.

"I can't believe you have room for dessert." I grab a knife from the drawer, along with some plates. Matthew kisses my head.

"I've got room for multiple desserts."

"was that a sexual allusion or are you actually hungry?" I turn briefly to gauge his behavior. if he hasn't had enough to eat, I'll feel horrible. but he leans down to my ear. it still sends a shiver down my spine.

"definitely sexual," he smirks, then retreats. "let's do this, though, first. I want a piece of Rumple's eyeball."

"just get out the candles so I can do this for you." I push him away. he heads to the cupboard and returns with the pack of candles that I begin to spear into the cake. I only put in ten because there's not room for forty-one, but he doesn't seem to mind as I light them up individually.

"go sit down! you weren't even supposed to come in here." I laugh as I lift the dish into my arms and shoo him into the other room. Matthew gives me a sidelong look, smiling for an unknown reason, before following my orders.

he pretends to look surprised when I bring the thing out to him, mouth making a pleased O shape.

"wow!" he cheers.

"make a wish, then, my love." I tell him. he inhales deeply, then blows out the candles. one or two stragglers remain, their flames flickering before he tries again and snuffs them out. I clap my hands.

"happy birthday, baby!"

he grins at me and starts to pluck the candles out of the cake. "you didn't sing to me." he says.

"trust me, that was a gift in itself." I laugh before picking up the knife. "how big a slice do you want?"

Matthew seems to think for a second on this, squinting as he examines the thing.

"big."

"alright then." I cut an enormous hunk out, making sure to get one of the maddened eyeballs on it before sliding it onto the plate and giving it to him. "enjoy."

"oh, I will." before I can move to sit across from him, he reaches out and pulls me into his lap. I let out a surprised noise, but settle in anyway on his thigh while I cut my own slice of cake. we eat together.

"it's actually pretty good." I'm impressed with myself. sure, it's not a super complicated recipe. but I still did well. Matthew wraps his arm around my waist, one hand holding his plate while the other digs the fork in.

"it's amazing." he nods through a mouthful of food.

"how's the eye?"

"how you'd expect a vitreous humor to taste." he jokes, laughing as I elbow him in the ribs. "ow!" he complains. I swipe some of the frosting off the top of his slice and tap it over his nose. he wrinkles it at the sensation.

"maybe I'll just leave." I move to get up, but he keeps me in place. his little smile, so determined in its happiness, makes my heart soften. for all of his teasing, he's weak for me, and I love it. when I lean down a little to lick the icing off, he blushes.

"when can I have you?" he asks quietly, one hand resting on the top of my bare thigh. it tightens around my skin, growing more aware of my presence in his lap. I bite my lip and mull this over, subtly draw the hem of my dress up a bit just to tease him.

"I'm thinking..." this time, he lets me get up. my fingers slide through his, dragging him with me. "now."

Matthew gets an excited grin on his face before I spin around and lead him to the bedroom. a couple candles are burning, filling the room with a deep, sensual smell that he inhales as he stops in his tracks.

"did you put rose petals on our bed?" he chuckles, staring at me with his eyebrows raised in an adoring expression. I run my palms up his chest, stopping below his shoulders. I poke my tongue between my teeth as I smile.

"yes, I did."

"very romantic."

"is it?" I lift an eyebrow. it takes everything in me not to pounce on him right then.

"consider me seduced."

"if you ever use that word again, I'm calling this off." I laugh. he silences it in a kiss, eagerly gathering my body up in his arms as he tilts his head to deepen it. a slight moan slips through me, pleased with the gentle, innocent pleasure he elicits. he's softer than velvet. when he crushes the silk of my dress in his fist, lifting it over my ass so he can touch me without barriers, he groans.

"did I pay for this?" he rolls the fabric between his fingers.

"mhmm." I hum.

"good." his breath hitches when the zipper comes down easily, the garment falling to the floor and leaving me in brand new black lingerie. his eyes move hungrily over my body, pupils dilating further as he takes in the curves of my figure.

"this is new."

I twist around a bit, showing him the back as well, his grip on my waist loosening only to allow me this movement. "you like it?"

he groans. "I love it."

I want to start undressing him, greedy for the sight of his naked body, but he reaches down and lifts me into his arms, my legs wrapping around him while he carries me to the floral-covered mattress. I sink into a rosy paradise, almost give into the alluring sensations he causes with his fingertips over my skin.

he's between my legs, teeth seeking out collarbone and the swell of my chest. it would be so, so easy to remain here, pinned down and allowing him to let loose on me. every deliberate shadow on my body is like a sunburst. but I can't.

I grab his shoulders and yank him down next to me. he peers at me with a smile, wondering what I've got in store. the answer is too loaded to fit into one sentence, so I watch him move up the bed until he's resting his head on the pillow, my legs moving to straddle him.

"taking control?" he questions. he knows I don't usually like to be on top. instead of replying, I reach behind me and undo the clasps of my bra, sliding it from my arms before tossing it somewhere else. his eyes widen and he goes to grab at my tits, but I'm too quick. I lean down, unbuttoning his shirt and drawing my nails over his chest as I lower myself to his pants.

Matthew is silent, open-mouthed at the red marks I leave behind on his smooth skin. it's intoxicating for me, too, and I work quickly to tug his bottoms down his legs, the boxers with them. when his dick is released, I let him struggle through a moment of no contact.

"let me touch you." he goes to stroke himself. my gaze flickers between the length he's now gripping in his hand and the needy look on his face. I want to fuck him right now. every cell in my body aches for him, for the pleasure that so violently rips through my veins when he's inside.

"not yet." I betray myself, and his hips buck into empty air when he sees my torso so close to his erection. when I drop my head and lick up the underside, he lets go of himself and allows me to tease him. I pause at the tip, then hold the base while I spit on it.

"shit!" he grunts as I start to swirl my tongue around him. his fingers run through my hair. "suck on it, baby."

all I do is moan, the vibration torturing him. I peek up through my lashes and see the veins in his neck throbbing while he resists the urge to fuck my mouth. I soften and lower my head slowly, inch by inch swallowing his cock. he hits the back of my throat. the slight gag that runs through me makes him sigh. it's then that I tap his hand as our signal to push my head down.

Matthew loses it. he starts to shove my mouth onto him, fucking it, one hand reaching behind him to grab the top of the headboard while he groans.

"choke on it... fuck." he moans. there are tears in my eyes from the pressure, but I keep looking at him the whole time. he's gorgeous, mouth dropped open in ecstasy while he goes between rolling his eyes into the back of his head and staring with an intense desire.

every time I gag, he lets out an unholy noise and gets excited all over again, his hips moving to meet my lips until he's on the edge of falling apart. his cock twitches and I moan, but he's not willing to finish.

"get over here so I can fuck you." his voice is borderline raspy as he forces himself to release my head. I sit up and wipe the spit from my mouth, crawling on top of him again to leave some of my favorite marks on his neck. he's mine. every bite stands to prove it, and his quick breaths let me know that he's not going to wait much longer.

his fingertips hook in the waistband of my panties and he pushes them down my thighs, purses his lips while he watches me shimmy out of them. it's wonderful, seeing the disarray in his face whenever he catches sight of my naked form. he never knows where to touch first, moving over my breasts to my waist and hips down to my legs. like he's trying to blend our bodies together by simply drinking me in.

I tense when he reaches out and sinks two fingers into me. I'm so wet, it takes almost no pressure.

"fucking soaked, huh?" he smirks. my hands steady themselves on his shoulders as he starts to pump in and out of me. I groan.

"get inside, please." I murmur nearly incoherently. he starts to go faster, his cock throbbing against his stomach. but he wants me to squirm and beg.

"oh, so you've got demands?" he teases. his fingers curl in my pussy, brushing over my special spot, and I almost gasp at the pleasure. "after making me wait?"

"I just--" I start to defend myself, but it's fruitless. he guides my face down to his, whispering in my ear.

"let me guess: you just wanted me to have a good birthday?"

"yes." a choked, desperate reply.

"let me show you what kind of present I want, then." he removes his fingers and lines himself up at my entrance, pushing me all the way down before sliding the pads of his digits into my mouth. I lick them clean while I moan. his cock is so deep inside me, I can barely breathe.

the combined pressures between my hips and on my tongue, make me give up on drawing this out. it feels so good, I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to. I rise up a bit and sink onto him again, his jaw clenched at the sensation. he lets me do this a couple times and then pauses my actions.

"get on your hands and knees." he orders. I lift myself obediently, whining slightly at the loss of contact, before he sits up and switches positions so that he's kneeling behind. I wait patiently for him to do what he wants with me. he doesn't disappoint.

softly, he pushes my head down so that my cheek rests against the pillow while he slides in from the back. it's a completely different angle and I can barely handle the way he works through the tightness, his moans louder this time.

"thought you could sit on it and I would just let you?" he chuckles darkly, pulling out and moving in. my breath rattles in my chest at the repeated, delicious intrusions. my eyelids flutter shut while he keeps talking to me in that commanding, low tone. "you're my little slut."

the moan that comes from my lips is pathetic, like a mewl. he plows into me and my face presses into the mattress.

"such a perfect little pussy," his hands lure my hips to him while he groans at the new depths he keeps finding. "so responsive for me."

"faster, Matthew." I whine. although he's not going slow, I need more. the slam of his body against mine, from this angle, creates just short of enough friction for my clit. he follows my request, however, and fucks me at an insatiable pace.

"you like that?" he grunts. I literally don't have the mobility to nod, so I shove my ass back instead to take more. he bucks. "you feel so fucking good."

I whimper and he starts to stimulate my clit by reaching around, lowering himself a bit to do so. he keeps his arm pressed to my stomach so he can feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out of me. "good girl. take it."

my fingertips fist the sheets and I whine as my orgasm approaches. he switches the pattern of pressure, finding what makes me fall apart fastest. I'm on the edge, my mouth dropping open in a silent cry. my hips start to move on their own, working against his cock as I moan his name and tumble into the abyss.

"Matthew, right there-- fuck me, fuck me--" I moan. he rams his hips so hard, the headboard slams the wall and he groans.

"you're gonna make me break you, baby." he warns. I bite my lip so hard that I almost puncture the skin, feeling like a planetary collision is occurring within my lower stomach. I'm coming up on a second climax.

"break me, then." I dare.

Matthew wraps his arm around my chest and brings me up so that I'm leaning against his chest while he whispers in my ear. "defiant little whores don't get my cum."

"but--" I complain, hips wriggling for more while he thrusts into me.

"apologize or I'll stop fucking you right now." he slows just to demonstrate the torture of not being inside me. I grasp at his hips to coax him, but he's determined. I take a shaky breath at the smooth, slow movements.

"I'm sorry." I beg. he reaches down and starts to play with my bundle of nerves again. as much as he wants to make me crash, he loves the way this feels, too.

"mmm," he hums while laying sloppy kisses along my neck. "good thing I wanna fill you up for being so sweet today."

his thrusts are uncontrolled and needy, rapid pushes between my legs that cause me to start shaking all over again. he rubs my clit and moans in my ear, spilling.

"I love you so much." he mumbles. the hand holding me to him squeezes one of my tits while I arch my spine and enjoy the slowing pace of our bodies. I moan his name.

"I love you, too." I'm in awe of how he changes for me, his attitude shifts whenever we're in bed. it's cosmic, how we fit together. and his withdrawal from my body causes both of us to collapse onto the bed with exhaustion.

I can only suck in air for a while. my limbs are like lead, in the best way.

"that was hot." he mutters. I turn to him, admiring his beautiful features, and nod lazily.

"a successful birthday, then?"

"after that cake? yeah." he scoffs jokingly and I giggle before curling into him. he traces his fingertips down my skin. "do you wanna take a shower?"

"I'm so tired." I groan. Matthew glances at me.

"I'm the one who just turned forty-one."

"shut up."

"come on, then. let's get you cleaned up."

he rises from the mattress, bringing me with him. a few stray rose petals flutter onto the ground.

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg oneshot

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

Text

Insatiable

Kinktober 8/31: breeding kink

Pairing: mechanic!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, breeding kink, possessive!bucky, fluff, unprotected sex, oral sex.

Summary: You and your boyfriend want to have a baby, and he’s more than happy to keep trying.

A/N: day 8 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober.

The rich smell of motor oil and gas floods your senses the further you get inside Bucky’s shop, that same scent you’ve learnt to love on his skin when his chest presses against your face as he thrusts deep inside you, his hands digging in your hips, his whispers in your ear.

So perfect, I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my child.

You sigh at the memory, and look around cars, bikes and tools, no Bucky in sight.

“‘M here, bubbles.”

His strained voice reaches you, and you find him crouched under the hood of a car, his t-shirt long discarded somewhere in the shop, a cloth around his neck and grease and sweat all over his sculpted abs.

His denim jeans hang sinfully low on his hips, and your eyes inevitably trail down the patch of dark hair below his navel.

“That sure is a sight for sore eyes after a day of work.” you quip, stalking closer to him until your chest presses against his.

You raise a hand to his face, sweeping a tendril of chestnut hair out of his eyes. He gives you a soft smile, and gestures for you to peck his lips, which you happily do.

“You didn’t have to come tonight too sweetheart, I don’t want to take up all your nights.”

You huff, placing the bags of take out on the table nearby, unwrapping the foil containers.

You get a waft of the delicious food, and your stomach rumbles in response.

“We live together Buck, why would I stay home alone when I can be with you instead?”

Bucky beams, even if you can’t see him. He takes in the sight of you, all cute in a sundress, caring for him, bringing him food, offering your company while he works late nights.

He feels warmth blossom in his chest, and another kind of heat travel down south as his thoughts lose innocence.

Images of you wobbling around, all round with his baby, another propped in your arms. Little giggles and soft lullabies in your house, small hands clutching his, the big family he’s always dreamed about.

“So, I got tacos con carnitas, ench-”

You yelp when he spins you around, and you find yourself caged between his glistening chest and the table behind your back.

He hums, lowering his face to the side of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair.

“I was thinking about a different kind of dinner, if that's alright with you bubbles.”

You giggle when he nuzzles the crook of your neck and his stubble grazes your skin, tickling you.

“You’re insatiable, Bucky Barnes.”

He chuckles, hands traveling from your waist to your ass, squeezing and kneading your soft flesh.

“You’re right, I can never get enough of you.” He murmurs against your throat, latching his mouth around your pulse point.

You let your head fall back as he keeps exploring your body, brushing his lips over your skin.

“I can never get enough of these.” He grunts, palming your breasts roughly, “This.” He keeps going, trailing kisses from your stomach to your belly.

“I can’t wait to see you all round with our baby, bubbles. All heavy with my child.”

He travels down south as your wanton moans fill the stop. You’re panting, writhing underneath his touch.

“I can never get enough of this sweet, tight pussy of yours babygirl.” He mumbles, falling to his knees and spreading your legs apart.

Your love is passionate yet gentle, and it always ends like this, either one of you on your knees, or one under the other. And you don’t mind at all.

He bunches your dress at your waist, exposing your lace thongs.

“Wore these just for me?” He asks, hooking his fingers around the waistband and pulling down, letting them pool at your feet.

“Who else would I wear them for?” You reply, feeling yourself get impatient of his teasing, your pussy throbbing in anticipation.

He slaps your ass, not satisfied with your answer, and the sound bounces off the wall.

“For you, Buck, wore these all for you, only you.” You pant, chest heaving.

He smirks up at you, and nips the tender skin of your inner thighs until he reaches your leaking cunt. You let out a moan when he delves in wet folds, tongue lapping around your bud and prodding at your entrance.

He latches his mouth around your swollen clit, suckling until you’re a moaning mess, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity.

“God, bubbles, you taste like fuckin’ heaven.” He grunts against your core, and the vibration shoots straight inside you, bringing you closer to your release.

“Fuck, harder, more, God, Bucky.”

You’re a blabbering mess, clutching Bucky’s greasy hair tightly, pulling at his roots.

He licks a thick stripe for you entrance to your clit, lapping at your bud until you’re crying out loud and gushing all over his face, limbs shaking as waves of heat overcome you.

He drinks up your juices like a man on a mission, his lewd, slurping sounds filling up the store until you push him off you.

He looks up at you, covered in your release, eyes half lidded, the light blue swallowed by darkness.

“Need to be inside you now, bubbles, I’m gonna put a child in there I’m telling you.” He promises frantically, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the closest car.

He bends you over the hood, and fumbles with his belt.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect babygirl, ‘s like we were made for eachother.”

He presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, before lining himself up with your entrance and sliding home.

You both let out a growl when he bottoms out.

“So tight, so good for me.” He whimpers, snapping his hips against your again and again, hitting your sweet spot.

The pressure in your cunt is building up again at a fast pace, and the jolts of pleasure jerking you are so intense you don’t even feel the metal digging in your hip bones, or your arms being bent backwards against your back as he keeps pummeling inside you.

“Gonna fill this cunt up with my cum bubbles, push it all the way inside. Fuck.” He groans, balls getting tighter with each stroke, each of your tiny moans.

He feels your walls clamping down on his cock, squeezing him in a vice.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He snarls, snapping his hips harshly against your ass.

You cry out loud, gritting your teeth when he hits your cervix. “Fu-, shit baby, I’m all yours, only yours.”

“Tell me you want this, bubbles, tell me you want my child.”

“God, I wa-want this child, please, oh my fuckin-, harder.” You shriek, bucking your hips against his, desperately chasing your release.

“I want you to beg me, beg me to put a child inside you.”

You feel the knot is your core tighten.

“Please Bucky, gimme all you’ve got, baby, I want you to cum inside me, fill my tight little hole with your cum.” You whimper.

He snakes his hand between your legs and rubs circles around your clit while he keeps hammering inside you. You feel his thrusts become sloppier, and his cock swells.

When you cum, it’s like a dam breaks and waves of pleasure crash over you. The knot unravels and the pressure releases, jerking all your limbs.

He moans, curling over you and reaching impossibly deeper as he paints your walls with his hot load.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, basking in each other’s warmth. You just know that one minute you’re bent over a random car, and the next one he’s lifting you up on the table.

“You know, I enjoy this baby making activity quite a lot, we should do it more often.”

You playfully glare at him. As if he wasn’t on you all the time, unable to control his urges.

“More often than this and we’d never leave our bed, baby.” You giggle, taking a sip out of your soda can.

“Would that be so bad?” He wonders, seemingly mulling over his words.

You sigh, and boop his nose.

“Not at all.

I promise I’ll answer all your sweet comments on yesterday’s fic tomorrow, I’m too tired now. :(

Short and sweer bc school is killing me. I hope you liked it, please leave some feedback 💘

Add yourself to my taglist on my pinned post ;)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #kinktober #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n

1K notes · View notes

elijahs-wife · 3 years

Note

Okok so imagine a blurb with Bucky x reader with the prompt “Stop being grumpy, it’s lame.” Like 🥺 I love the one person is super happy and the other is grumpy dynamic!

ahhhhh i too am an absolute sucker for the 😠+🥰 dynamic!!! thank you for participating anon, i am sorry i took so long with this and i hope you're still around to see it!!

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

wc: 1k

warnings: nothing but fluff and bucky being a lil grump i love him

a/n: pls consider reblogging if you like this bc it motivates me to write more!! also i wasnt going to tag people in this but,,, i actually really like this so i did it anyway lol if you would like, you can add yourself to my taglist here 😚

The music here is loud—you can almost see the glass in the sliding doors quake in its frame, vibrating to the rhythm of the bass. It’s not the type of thing you usually listen to, but it’s a New Year’s Eve party, and Tony Stark’s New Year’s Eve party at that. This is definitely not the place for Marina or Mitski. You don’t hate this music though—it’s easy to dance to, and you find yourself bopping your head to the beat automatically when you turn, in search of Bucky again. You’d designated him the seemingly simple task of getting you a drink from the bar, but that was around fifteen minutes ago, and with the one or two hundred people milling about, you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of him until you heard him call your name.

Both hands are occupied by drinks, making it exponentially harder for him to maneuver his way through the crowd. “Here’s yours,” he hands you your Cosmo, his own glass of amber liquid between leather-gloved fingers. You always hated whiskey—except for when you were tasting it on his lips—and the burn it brought to your throat, uncomfortable and lingering. You would much rather stick to your “girly” cocktails, fun and refreshing and fruity, slipping down your throat with ease when you take a small sip now.

“Thank you,” you grin at him, giving his cheek a quick peck. Usually that’s all it takes for the surly face to drop and be replaced by a dopey smile before he kisses you back, but tonight, he just takes a sip of his liquor instead. You know he doesn’t mean to be rude; he just gets uncomfortable with crowds sometimes. He’d been like this the entire night, withdrawn and grouchy, turning down your offer to dance—not that you’d really wanted to anyway, at least not to the dulcet tones of Major Lazor.

“Stop being grumpy, Barnes.” You knock shoulders with him playfully, to which he only rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lame.”

“I’m not being grumpy.”

“Oh yeah? You look like someone just licked the glaze off your doughnut.” Your teasing doesn’t seem to be doing much to lighten the mood, his face still sullen as ever.

“I’m not grumpy—”

“Baby,” you interrupt—that one word seems to soften him up a little bit— “I know a grumpy boyfriend when I see one, now tell me what’s wrong.” You gently squeeze his bicep over the thick material of his jacket and feel his muscles immediately loosen up at your touch, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Nothing, I’d just rather be at home. Too many people at this stupid party.” He takes another swig of his drink, with not even the slightest hint of a wince as he swallows. “And too many stupid men staring at my girl, too,” he adds, too quickly for it to be an afterthought.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you stifle the urge to laugh because the thought of wanting to be with anyone other than Bucky is exactly that—laughable. “Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?” you tease, moving in closer to him.

He lets a low grunt, not meeting your eyes and sheepishly shuffling from foot to foot. “Maybe just a hint.”

You can’t help but let out a little chuckle at that, taking his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles at that strip of skin along his inner wrist that was left exposed by his gloves. It’s something you always do when he’s feeling anxious or stressed out. “Yeah, well. You know I’m all yours. Plus, it’s almost midnight, we can take off after that, I promise.” You pull his hand with yours, gesturing for him to follow you with a slight nod of your head. “Come on.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Outside.”

Beyond the sliding glass doors, the party is significantly muffled, but it’s fucking freezing out on the balcony, each breath turning into a cloud of mist in front of your face—you left your coat at the door and now you’re starting to shiver in your strappy satin dress. Bucky notices and doesn’t hesitate to shuck his jacket off, ever the gentleman, throwing it around your shoulders instead. You’re almost drowning in warm fabric that smells just like him, and you pull it tighter around yourself, allowing it to engulf you.

“Music?” you ask, pulling your phone out of your clutch. You’re on a high enough floor of the building that the sounds of the streets below are faint, and the sanctity of this balcony wasn’t disturbed too badly. You can play music you actually enjoy.

“Yes, as long as its not that,” he insists, pointing disdainfully towards the dancing crowd, and you giggle because sometimes, you forget just how much of an old man he can be. You set your phone down on the ledge, and Frank Sinatra starts to play. “Now this is more my speed,” he says, and with no warning he’s pulling you against his body, a hand around your waist and the other wrapped around your own—you yelp at the sudden motion, but it melts into laughter, as you let him dance you around the balcony. Warmth and spiced perfume radiate from him in waves, threatening to swallow you whole, and you gladly give in. It’s a perfect little moment, even though there are no stars above you in the dull, grey New York sky.

The street is getting noisier and so is the party, and when you listen closely you realize what for. “Buck, the countdown’s about to—”

“I don’t need a countdown, baby,” he whispers, and then his lips are crashing against yours, so soft and firm, gentle and rough at the same time. You barely register that you’re all of five seconds away from the new year. How can you care when whisky and cranberry are mixing against your tongue, so sweet and intoxicating—you think it might be your new favorite flavor. You have to stop yourself from protesting when he pulls away from you. “Happy new year.”

You're still in a daze, barely able to string a sentence together. “Happy new year, Bucky.” There’s a soaring sound nearby that distracts you, followed by a series of loud explosions—fireworks, red and gold and all the colors you can think of, scattering across the sky like glitter. And in that moment, when that childlike wonder flashes across his face, you see it in his eyes, an entire galaxy. There are your stars.

thank you for reading muah 🥰😚

very pretty dividers by @firefly-graphics !!💞

bucky barnes taglist: @hellotvshowtrash @gyllenhaalstories @dizzydancingdreamer @thatweirdoleigh @dumble-daddy @kpopgirlbtssvt @imgoingtofreakoutnow @mrsweasley06 @mrs-jackson-kenner @drysdale-barnes @lady-salvatore @nikmikaelsonswife @harpersmariano @mrs-marvel @iilwjbb

#sleepover at tays💗#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Note

(2/2) Everyone treats her badly and there is angst because she hates that people can't see her as more than a Malfoy and assume she's like Draco because they’re so close. And then kind of go with that? The background is kinda detailed 😂 sorry. I just had this idea stuck in my head and well I suck at writing and you write Draco as a brother amazingly.

similar shadows // george weasley

entire request: (1/2) okay I'm finally here sending the ask. So can I have a reader x George (idk who else to ask for). So the reader is Draco's twin but in Ravenclaw. Her and Draco are really close and Draco is very protective over her but not overbearing. She's shy, book nerdy and socially awkward so she tends to stay with Draco; Draco understands her (cue sweet brother). (2/2) Everyone treats her badly and there is angst because she hates that people can't see her as more than a Malfoy and assume she's like Draco because they’re so close. And then kind of go with that? The background is kinda detailed 😂 sorry. I just had this idea stuck in my head and well I suck at writing and you write Draco as a brother amazingly.

masterlist!

a/n: ugh i love writing draco as a brother even if his characterization is completely inaccurate for it, he just has such little brother energy to me (and a warning, i took a lot of creative liberties for draco’s personality in this, i couldn’t resist it. it just made the brother/sister dynamic sm better in my opinion). also included flirty!george in this just bc i love it. i hope u like this, tysm for the request!!

summary: Living in the Malfoy shadow conditioned you to behave a certain way, avoid certain things. But, once your able to use the Quidditch pitch to finally prove you are something different than your last name, everything seems to fall into place. You even catch a certain Weasley’s eye.

(4.9k)

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The air in Malfoy Manor was always thick; thick with unsaid words, hateful tension, and awful regrets. It was a blessing for you to leave and go to Hogwarts every year.

The train ride was something you looked forwards to. Curled up in the window seat, because Draco always let you have the window seat, with whatever book you were reading at the moment. You tuned out Draco’s usual complaining to Pansy and Blaise, indulging yourself in the novel perched on your lap.

The trip never lasted long enough, though, and soon you were shuffled into Hogwarts. Draco gave your shoulder one last bump and a weak smile before you went to sit at the Ravenclaw table. You tilted your head back, gazing up at the ceiling with wonder in your eyes. The Ravenclaw table was filling up, and you managed a seat closest to the professors’ table. Your eyes scanned the Slytherin table until they found the familiar head of platinum hair you were looking for. Even if he wasn’t with you, just seeing Draco made you feel a little safer.

Dinner went quickly with your head shoved in a book, and soon you were excused to your common rooms. Draco slid away from the mass of green ties, walking with you to your common room. The two of you walked slowly, falling from the crowd to stroll by yourselves.

“I heard that the Ravenclaw Quidditch team needs a new seeker this year,” Draco started, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, “maybe you should try out.”

“I don’t know,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, “Quidditch was always your thing.”

“You’re a great flyer, Y/n,” Draco glanced at your hesitant expression, “look, it can’t hurt to try out.”

“Maybe,” you offered him, enjoying the way he smiled proudly once you gave in.

He wrapped a brotherly arm around your shoulders, marching you up the endless amount of stairs to the Ravenclaw common room.

The next day of lessons came far too soon, and your timetable clutched in your shaky hands was giving you a headache. You looked up, seeing a familiar room number, but upon looking back at your timetable, you realized you were on the completely wrong side of the castle.

You turned on your heal, starting down a new corridor. Glancing at your watch, you saw you were already late for lessons. While your eyes were off the hallway in front of you, you hit the hard chest of someone coming your way.

“In a hurry, Malfoy?” the voice said as you both stumbled back.

George Weasley stood in front of you, a playful and happy expression on his handsome features. You knew he was only joking when he called you ‘Malfoy’, but you really did hate it. People called Draco that, and you didn’t often like to be associated with the reputation your father had curated with the last name.

“You two!” someone called from the end of the hallway.

George groaned, looking over your shoulder, “Great.”

“Detention, tonight, my office,” Filch told the two of you, pointing a finger in your faces.

You pulled back, eyeing his finger suspiciously. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but as George looked at you he noticed you were doing the signature Malfoy sneer.

“Thanks,” George said sarcastically, bumping your shoulder as he passed you.

You took a deep breath, starting off to find your class again.

“How were your classes?” Draco slumped next to you on the bench, pulling out a piece of what you thought might be pumpkin bread.

He tore off a chunk, eating it slowly. He held a piece out to you and you accepted it gratefully.

“Awful,” you said simply, putting your head to rest against your hand, “I couldn’t find half of them.”

“You should have told me, I could have helped,” Draco said, looking a little annoyed at you.

“You had your own classes to worry about,” you defended, taking another piece of pumpkin bread from him.

Draco rolled his eyes, looking around the courtyard until his eyes fell on Harry Potter sitting with a few other Gryffindors.

“Given any other thought about Quidditch? Tryouts are next week,” he mentioned, tearing his eyes away from Harry.

“I don’t know, depends on how hard my classes are,” you made up an excuse.

“Your classes are never hard for you,” Draco teased, giving you the rest of the bread, “and besides, I think you have a real chance of being a better seeker than Potter.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain the surprised laughter that bubbled from your chest.

“Yeah right!”

Draco scoffed, joining in your infectious laughter. You finished off the bread in your hand and reluctantly went to serve your detention with Filch.

You had never had detention before, so nerves racked your body. You looked around anxiously, twisting your hands behind your back.

“Malfoy,” George called to you from the end of the hallway.

You turned around to look at him, and waited while he jogged to catch up with you.

“You’re actually going to the detention? Figured you would have thrown a fit to Dumbledore to get out of it,” he said rudely, giving you a critical glance.

You ignored him, biting your tongue. You walked a few paces ahead of him, also ignoring his scoff.

You opened the door to Filch’s office, not bothering to wait for George. You sat on one of the old chairs in front of the desk, waiting for Filch’s sneer to turn into words.

“You two are going to polish the frames on all the portraits in this corridor,” he growled, placing two toothbrushes and one rag on his desk.

“All of them?” George repeated, sounding bothered.

“All of ‘em,” Filch said, his mouth turning up in a smile at the sight of misery.

You took a toothbrush and the rag, standing from your seat. You wordlessly walked out into the hallway and went all the way to one end. You kneeled, getting to work on a low hanging portrait. The portrait was a family sitting at a dining room table, mounds of food piled in front of them. There was a mother bouncing a baby on her knee, lifting food into it’s mouth. A young boy sat across from her, shoveling mashed potatoes into his small mouth. The father at the head of the table watched them both happily, cutting the large chicken at the center of the table. They all stopped what they were doing at the sight of you crouched in front of them, but once they saw you begin to clean, their cautious looks were replaced with thankful ones.

You watched the family, smiling faintly as they began eating again.

George had went to the opposite side of the hallway, and you began moving towards each other as the sun dwindled from the sky and candles dimly illuminated the hall. Soon, you were a few feet apart, both scrubbing with heavy hands. You moved onto the next portrait, craning your neck to look at it’s place much higher than you could reach.

You stood on the tips of your toes, extending your arm as far as it would go. You couldn’t even reach the bottom of the frame. Suddenly, George’s taller frame was hovering next to you, watching with an entertained smirk as you balanced on your toes.

“Need some help?” he drawled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

You fell to stand flat on your feet, nodding your head shyly. He chuckled, moving past you and effortlessly cleaning the frame.

You watched him for a moment, noticing the rise in his shirt that exposed the beginnings of his toned stomach. You watched the way his biceps flexed under his sleeves as his hand moved back and forth against the portrait. Your eyes drifted back to the wall, sitting with your legs crossed to clean a portrait closer to the floor.

“You don’t talk as much as Draco does,” George said suddenly, looking down at you from his position above you.

You didn’t respond, only giving him a quizzical expression.

“Every time I see him he’s ranting or complaining about something or other,” George continued, playfully smiling.

“Complaining is one of his hobbies,” you teased, smiling at the sound of George’s chuckle.

“So you’re his twin?” he asked, dropping his hand from the portrait and leaning against the wall again to look at you.

“Yeah,” you said, still focused on the portrait.

“You guys don’t seem too similar,” he said, furrowing his brows.

“Well, are you and Fred too similar?” you quipped, and he chuckled again.

“ ‘Spose we aren’t,” he said, turning back to the portrait, “good thing really. Gives me the opportunity to be the better one of us.”

You giggled at George’s joke, and stood from your spot on the floor.

He handed you the rag and you gave one last swipe to the portrait you just scrubbed. You placed your hands on your hips, looking down the hallway and admiring your work.

“Guess that’s it,” George said, twisting his brush in his fingers.

“Guess it is,” you said sheepishly.

You turned to walk back to Filch’s office, George trailing behind you.

Something about that little interaction made your spirits higher for an entire week. You didn’t know why, but the idea of making George Weasley laugh gave you some confidence that you lacked before. Your entire life at Hogwarts, people assumed you were like Draco. You fell in Draco’s shadow and people associated you with him and his mean tendencies. When you spoke with George, you knew he could relate to you. You knew he fell in Fred’s shadow some times, everyone knew that. Fred was the louder one, the one who usually had a girlfriend cheering for him at his Quidditch matches. George was quieter and thoughtful. You felt drawn to George.

You riding the coattails of that minor interaction with George was the only thing willing your legs to move towards the Quidditch pitch. Well, that and Draco’s firm grip on your shoulders making sure you didn’t turn and run away.

Draco had written to your mother after his first mention of Quidditch to you, and she sent you everything you needed with no hesitation. You gripped your new Firebolt in your shaky hands and tugged at the heavy pads wrapped around your forearms. Once you stood in front of the Ravenclaw team captain, you bent over slightly to adjust your knee pads. Draco’s hands left your shoulders.

“Good luck, you’re gonna do great.” he mumbled into your ear, glancing around to make sure no one else heard his kind words. He flashed you a thumbs up as he walked to the elevated grass near the goal posts, sitting down to watch.

You pulled your gloves on tighter, afraid they would fall off and affect your playing. You gulped as the captains eyes scanned you critically.

“Malfoy?” he asked, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

“Yes?” you squeaked, gripping your broom tighter.

“Oh,” he said, a pleasantly surprised look on his face, “nothing, just didn’t expect to see you here.”

You faked a smile at him, biting your tongue. You were already here, why not try to make a good impression?

You followed all the directions. The drills they had you do were nothing compared to what Draco and you used to do in the garden during the summer. You easily flew laps around everyone else, a combination of your impressive broom, and your skills alone.

The captain had reservations about you, eyeing Draco suspiciously as he cheered for you from the ground. However, after your third successful time catching the snitch, he didn’t care much about your last name.

He told you that you made the team a few days later, telling you when to show up for practice, and when the next game was. It was Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff, and your captain sounded quite confident about it. So did Draco.

“You’re going to kill them!” he said enthusiastically, not hiding any of his excitement as you two walked alone along bank of the Black Lake.

You giggled at his enthusiasm, unable to stop the confidence bubbling in your chest at the thought of you catching the snitch during your first Quidditch match.

“Well, it is Hufflepuff,” you joked, shoving his shoulder with yours, “I doubt they’ll put up too much of a fight.”

Draco made an ‘ooo’ noise, his shoulders jostling with laughter.

“Trash talking already? Before your first match?”

You smiled sheepishly, not often getting to talk this freely with anyone. You enjoyed your private talks with Draco. He didn’t have to put on a hard façade, and you didn’t have to put on a painfully nice one. You were both free to be yourselves, and you hoped one day you would have someone, who wasn’t your brother, to be yourself around.

You had gone over the plays tirelessly with your captain. You didn’t eat for three days, too nervous to find food appealing. You had to force down some eggs and toast before your match, just so you wouldn’t pass out.

You pulled at your gloves uncomfortably, fidgeting with every detail on your perfect broom just to make sure it was all in order. You stepped onto the field, hearing the roaring crowd. Everyone in the school was there; it was the first match of the year.

You felt your eggs and toast fighting their way up your throat, but you swallowed hard, willing them to stay put. Your chin shook with the intensity in which you clenched your jaw, eyes darting everywhere at once.

“You’ve got this,” your captain slapped you on the back, jolting you forward a bit. You stumbled, using your broom as support to catch yourself from falling on your face.

Once on the field, you hovered easily face to face with the Hufflepuff seeker. Your entire body was shaking with nerves, and just before the whistle was blown, you heard the entire Slytherin and Ravenclaw student section joined in chanting your name. Your first name.

You smiled widely, enjoying the change. You were being recognized for more than your last name, for more than your family crest. You weren’t the girl who bore a striking resemblance to the meanest boy in your grade, you were more than the Malfoy’s blonde hair and grey eyes. You were you. You were Y/n.

The game was over faster than it started. The chasers in blue had only scored four goals on the Hufflepuff's before you caught the snitch, diving down to the ground with your hands wrapped tightly around the little golden orb.

Lee Jordan screamed from his spot on the teacher’s balcony, and you thought it would have made the ears bleed of anyone within 100 feet of him. Your team huddled around you, lifting you from your feet and throwing you into the air. You never let go of the snitch, keeping it clutched in your hand until you spotted Draco strolling over to you on the field. You tapped the shoulder of your captain, and he told everyone to put you down. People jostled your shoulders, clasping your back and sending varied praises your way. You nearly felt like crying, you were so happy.

You ran to Draco, tossing your broom cautiously on the ground. You jumped into his chest, his unsuspecting hands still tucked into his pants pockets. He made a disgruntled noise, stumbling back as you wrapped your sweaty arms around his neck.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, your face a flushed pink.

“I know!” he screamed back, smiling at your enthusiasm.

“Let me see it,” he said, putting you on your feet and picking up your hand with his.

You let his palm hold yours, opening your fingers slowly. The snitch stayed put, resting still in your gloved hand. Draco’s mouth cracked into a smile, his pale face illuminating with happiness and pride. He was proud of his sister.

“I knew you would do it,” he said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders again and bringing you into a suffocating hug.

You trekked up the hill to the castle, blue surrounding you in a huddle. The only thing out of place was Draco’s all black suit he wore, but it didn’t matter. You walked side by side, and no one questioned his presence, because you just caught the snitch.

“Nice game,” you heard a voice from behind you, falling into step with you.

You looked to your left, seeing the tall frame of George Weasley. He wore a knit beanie over his ginger hair, and a sweater with his initial on it. You beamed at him, your cheeks still flushed from the excitement.

“Thanks,” you said, not taking your eyes off of him until he looked away, laughing.

“Who knew you had it in ya?” he joked, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“I did,” Draco mumbled from your other side. You turned to him, sending him a warning glance, and then looked back at George.

“Well, the Hufflepuff's certainly didn’t,” you said, referencing the way their seeker had barely even glanced at you when the game was starting.

George laughed again, and you felt your knees go a little weak. Who’s wouldn’t at the sight of an older and handsome boy laughing at a joke you made?

“Not looking forward when we have to go against Ravenclaw in a few weeks,” George said, an impressed and admiring look on his face, “you’ll definitely give Harry a run for his money.”

Draco snorted from beside you, and you sent a sharp elbow to his side. He groaned, moving a hand to nurse the spot. You kept your dazed eyes locked on Georges. George’s eyes flickered to a semi-hunched over Draco, his smile widening.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, smirking at you.

You watched his long legs carry him away, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Don’t tell me you fancy a Wea-” Draco started, but you winded your elbow up as a warning and he stopped suddenly.

“Shut up,” you said, still watching the way George moved through the crowd as if he was untouchable.

It was in that moment that you felt normal. You didn’t feel ostracized or different. You felt like a normal teenager with a normal annoying brother, playing a normal sport, and having a normal schoolgirl crush. Your smile felt like it would never leave you that night.

And it didn’t, it only managed to grow larger. You felt two large hands clasp around your shoulders at breakfast. You were stuffing your face, finally finding food appealing again, and with cheeks filled with food you turned and locked eyes with the always handsome George Weasley.

You stopped chewing, food sitting docile in your mouth. Your eyes widened, and you brought a hurried hand to cover your mouth as you began to chew again, ducking your head slightly as George looked at you, amused.

“Just wanted to check and see how the post-win glory was treating you,” he said, straddling the bench next to you.

You swallowed hurriedly, taking a sip of water from your goblet to wash down the food. You smiled nervously at him.

“Well, I don’t feel too different,” you said, grinning.

He laughed, resting an elbow on the table and pushing his hair back slightly with his large hand. You gulped as you watched his biceps flex at the movement, admiring his strong jaw as his head turned into his hand.

“Really?” he teased, a crooked grin on his lips as he shamelessly looked you up and down.

“I got my appetite back,” you said, buttering up your third piece of toast and putting it on your plate, “couldn’t eat for days before the match.”

“Harry gets like that,’ George said casually, “Fred and Ron eat more than ever before a match.”

You giggled, and George smiled at the sight.

“What about you?” you asked him, meeting his brown eyes with your grey ones.

George seemed taken aback, like no one often asked about him.

“Oh,” he said, smiling shyly at you, “I don’t know. I guess I eat less before matches.”

You nodded your head, and George cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Alright,” he began to stand, looking down at you, “just wanted to check in on ya.”

“Thanks,” you said, blushing wildly as he sauntered back over to the Gryffindor table.

Practice only got harder and longer, and soon, you barely had any time to sleep. You managed to get most of your homework done in class, but you still had some extra assignments creeping up on you. You spent most of your nights on the pitch, and the evenings grew colder. Every night, though, you could glance to the green student section and see Draco huddled in some type of fur, watching you practice. He often brought his own homework up there with him, using it to pass the time when you weren’t doing anything particularly impressive.

Draco met you on the pitch as the moon illuminated the grass around you. You drank some water, sweating under your thick robes.

The two of you walked back to the castle, and Draco slid you a roll of parchment from his bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, unrolling the paper.

“It’s your potions essay,” he said, “I knew you’d forget to do it, so I took care of it for you.”

“Thank you,” you sighed out, feeling tremendously relieved at the thought of one less assignment to to, “I feel exhausted.”

“You look it,” Draco mumbled, and you hit his arm with the tightly rolled parchment.

You made it into the castle, the halls squeaking with the sound of your teammates walking to the Ravenclaw dorm. Draco followed you, the two of you breaking off from your team. He carried your parchment for you as you untied all the pads and equipment hugging your body.

“Both the Malfoy’s in one place? To what do I owe this pleasure?” you turned, seeing George Weasley slipping from behind a tapestry hanging on the wall.

“Where did you come from? Is there something behi-” Draco lifted the tapestry carefully, and while he moved, George replaced his spot next to you.

Draco felt the hard wall behind the tapestry and you watched him with a smirk on your face as his hands continued to inspect where George had managed to come from.

“Hello,” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi,” you said shyly, painfully aware of your wind-thrown hair and sweating face.

“What are you two up to?”

“He’s just walking me back to my dorm,” you said, still fiddling with one part of the pad on your arm that always gave you trouble.

“Well, I’m sure he needs his beauty sleep. Think I could manage getting you back safely?” George purred from beside you, speaking so Draco couldn’t hear him as you watched your brother hit his knuckles on the hard stone wall.

“Could you? Pretty big shoes to fill,” you joked, pointing at Draco’s fancy dress shoes that were obviously smaller than George’s.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in those shoes,” George joked back, and at the sound of your loud giggle, Draco stopped looking at the wall.

“What’s so funny?” he snarled, sending a foe intimidating look at George.

“Draco,” you said sternly and warningly, “George is going to walk me to my dorm, you can go and get some rest.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at you, weighing his options. He could give up easily and leave you to a presumably awkward walk alone with George, or he could embarrass you a little. He chose the latter.

“Alone? Are you mental-”

“I swear to god Draco,” you cut him off, the sheer tone of your voice making his eyes widen a little in fear.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, adjusting the tight sleeves of his dress shirt.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” he cast a glance at George, looking stern, “In one piece?”

George was smiling like a fool, suppressing a giggle at the interaction. Draco shoved your parchment into your chest, and you held onto it as he stalked off.

“Thank you, Draco! Love you!” you called after him in a sing-song and sisterly voice.

He waved his hand, back still towards you, and you and George laughed.

You two started walking again, falling easily into step with each other, You struggled holding your parchment without crushing it as you still worked on that one part of your arm padding.

“Do you need some help?” George asked from beside you, offering his hand out.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, handing him the parchment as the two of you began up the stairs.

He watched you for a moment, your delicate fingers struggling to untie a complicated knot.

“Here,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder to cease your walking.

You stopped, and he took a step down so he was on a lower level of the stairs. You were eye level, and his brown eyes bore into yours as he waited for you to hold your hand out. You did, and he crouched to place the scroll on the step next to him. He returned to your height, his strong fingers going to your arm.

He held your hand for a moment, pulling it to the side as he looked at the knot. His hand slid down your wrist, over the padding, and to the knot near your elbow. You kept your eyes on his hands, afraid that if you looked at his face you might explode.

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling like your lips would crack and fall off if you said anything more.

“Of course, darling,” he whispered back, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You felt your legs tremble, your entire body seemed to have fireworks shooting through its veins. You did everything in your power not to throw your head back and start giggling manically.

Soon, the padding was looser on your arm, and George held it as it fell off. He gave it to you, placing it gently in your outstretched hand. You took it, holding it by some of the string at the top. He turned you by your shoulders so you stood directly facing him. You felt your throat close a little.

He was bending his knees suddenly, crouching at your feet. His face was by your hips, and you felt your face burn red at the close proximity. You felt his long fingers working on the knee pads you still had on. One of his warm hands lay flat against your shin for support, as the other pulled easily at the string holding your kneepad on. Your fingers tightened around the arm pads you were holding, and once again you were willing yourself not to let out some sort of desperate giggle.

He rose, meeting your eyes.

“All better,” he mumbled, his voice deep.

He held your knee pads for you with one hand, and the other held onto your parchment. You both stood for a moment on the stairs like that, face to face at the same height. If you took a slightly deeper breath, your chest would have expanded and brushed against George’s. You took shallow breaths.

“Let’s go,” he said, but made no effort to move. He sounded entranced and dazed, and you caught his eyes flicker to your lips. You licked them nervously, not realizing what you were doing until George’s eyes followed your tongue gliding against your mouth. You saw his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and your eyes widened a little.

You turned suddenly, going to take another step up the stairs. George’s strong hand wrapped around your wrist, steadying you as you stumbled back to the lower step. You nearly fell, but his strong chest was there to catch you. You were pulled against him and his arm wrapped around your lower waist. He looked at you for a second, and then pulled you down another step so you were on the same one as him. He bent his neck down, and you tilted your head up, your lips meeting in the middle.

One of his hands moved to wrap around the back of your neck, willing your face closer to his as if there was any space between you two. You heard the clatter of you knee pads as he set them aside a few feet away, and you dropped the arm pads you were holding. Your hands slid to rest on his chest, feeling the soft material of his sweater beneath your cold fingers. You pressed a little against him, his toned chest not that far from your touch. He smirked as you ran your nails down from his collar bones to dangerously close to the top of his belt. You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You both breathed deeply, lips parted.

“Draco’s gonna kill me,” you whispered with a small smile.

“You’re thinking about your brother right now?” George joked back, tucking a piece of your blonde hair behind your ear.

“Should I be thinking about your brother?”

George pulled away from you completely, his hearty laugh filling the small staircase you were in. You laughed too, picking up your padding.

George held the padding and your parchment in one hand, and you held both of your arm pads in one hand. He slipped his hand into yours, and the two of you walked up the stairs.

As you went, neither of you felt like you were in the shadow. George was his own person apart from Fred, with his own interests and his own jokes. You weren’t the brooding Malfoy, you were the girl who laughed and kissed boys in stairwells.

#george weasley #george #weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x ravenclaw #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley x ravenclaw reader #george weasley x malfoy #malfoy twin #brother!draco

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

kinktober day 6 — authority kink

kink — authority kink pairing —kinda dark!sam wilson x fem!reader warnings — MINORS DNI, authority kink, dirty talk, dubcon but becomes consensual, sam is kinda dark in this?? bit of degradation unprotected penetrative sex word count —754 words a/n — was feeling uninspired with this one bc i didnt want to go full on smut since i didnt feel like that was the best way to establish authority for some weird reason???? taglist —

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

“So Captain America huh?” Her voice snapped him out of his focused staring back at the image of him wearing the American flag color themed uniform he was now donning. Turning around, a proud grin was on Sam’s face, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing that.”

Sitting down on the wooden chair that was placed next to the full length mirror and eyed Sam up as her lips had a smirk of her own, “How about make it your own then?” Removing the goggles that were tighter than his previous ones, he tilted his head in confusion after placing the technology down the nearby table, “What do you mean by that?”

“Like instead of Captain America, why don’t you change it into Captain Falcon, or something?” She suggested as she shrugged her shoulders; Sam paused as he took in her suggestion, “I like the sound of it to be honest; but if I were to make it my own I’d rather stick with Captain America.”

Pursing her lips, “It’s your choice, Cap,” Before leaning forward and placing her elbows by her knees, “So what’s your first goal as the beloved hero then?”

“You make it sound like I’m some first time politician,” Sam playfully joked as he removed the helmet and threw it beside the goggles, “But honestly? I don’t know. I just want to help others and bring positive change.”

“Whatever you say, Cap,” She sing-songed as she stood up, leaning by the table as she grabbed the helmet and tried it on, “Wonder how this would look on me.”

As she was toying around with his helmet, Sam was struggling with how to conceal his growing erection. It wasn’t even completely his fault, there was something about the way she called him Cap made something stir inside him.

“I don’t think you’ve asked permission to use that, beautiful,” It was clear with his tone that he was not in the mood for playful banter; no, his tone was serious and that was made evident by the way his voice lowered by nearly a baritone.

“Cut it out, Sam,” She chuckled nervously as she playfully hit his arm; but he gripped onto her hand in his rough one tightly, “That’s not what you were calling me earlier, little one.”

Catching Sam’s drift of where he was going, “I don’t know, Sam. Do you really deserve the title of being captain?” At the sound of being downplayed, Sam then roughly let go of her hand and bent her over across the table where he had earlier put down the parts of his new uniform. His fingers made quick work of pulling down her legging that clung nicely onto her legs and ass; pleased to see that she was wearing a flimsy thong.

Snapping the thong that was nestled in between her cheeks caused her to flinch, and look back at him with her biting onto her bottom lip, “That hurts, Sam!” Her exclaimed cry just caused his erection to become even more prominent and he smirked simply and slapped her ass, “You know how to address me, little one.”

“Captain!” She shrieked out once he slapped the cheek that was left untouched, smirking when he heard the title falling off her lips deliciously.

“I think we need to ensure that you respect your authority,” He grunted before landing a harsh slap on each of her cheek, “You need a lesson, and I’m here to provide it for you.” Her ass clenched, as if to lessen the pain his smack brought about to her skin.

Bringing his heavy hand down to smack her supple cheek, “Who am I again, little one?”

“Captain!” She shrieked out loud as her hands clenched into a fist so tightly that her nails were starting to hurt the skin on her palms, “You’re the captain!”

“And don’t you dare forget it!” He threatened her before spreading her legs wide open and moving the cotton material to the side and teased the tip of his cock in her wet hole, “Who is it that’s about to fuck you until you’re crying and beggin for me to stop?”

“It’s you, Captain,” She moaned out upon feeling his thick tip enter her in one swift thrust, her hands clawing at his forearms as he reached for her hands as a way to thrust into her mercilessly. And with a proud grin, he slid inside of her all the way before huffing his chest with pride, “Damn right it’s your captain.”

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam wilson x female!reader #anthony mackie x reader #captain america x reader #falcon x reader

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myherokatsuki · 2 years

Note

my ask deleted help 💔💔 but for the event!! my self ship is w kirishima! (ofc) we met first year of college! we have the friends to lovers trope bc we did pine after each other for a bit. we are also the extrovert bf x introvert gf type. we often watch movies and cuddle together bc he’s busy and i’m more of a stay at home type person so when we’re together it’s mostly relaxing or if neither of us are too busy we’ll go out on adventures (usually not planned) and do whatever. or late night drives while we listen to music and go get ice cream or something. i hope this was enough! i cant wait and congrats again bb!! 🥺🖤

Thank you Jupiter!! Hhhh you and Kirishima are so dang cute together. >w< I hope you enjoy <3

Event Status: Closed

“You really wanna watch this movie again?” Eijirou asked, collapsing back against the couch, a hint of a whine to his deep voice as you changed the channel to the same movie you’d been playing the other day.

“What, it’s a comfort movie!” you insisted, poking him in the side to make him jump, laughing as he threw you the most petulant look.

“Alright fine, what would you rather do?” you asked instead, leaning your head against his shoulder and looking up at him.

A grin stretched across his face at your question and he twisted to press his lips against your forehead. “Let’s go on an adventure!” he exclaimed, and you found yourself hauled to your feet as soon as you laughed your agreement.

Despite the chill in the air, Eijirou’s hand engulfing yours was nice and warm, and you walked as close to him as you possibly could without climbing into his coat. “C’mon, let’s get some snacks,” he suggested, pulling you into the convenience store near your apartment. The door chimed as it opened and you grabbed a basket, following your giant giddy boyfriend around the small store.

“Ooo, I’ve wanted to try this, and we gotta get some of these, they’re your favourite!” he exclaimed, tossing the treats into your basket.

If Kirishima was a dog, he’d be a golden retriever, easily distracted, and you would have sighed every time he stopped to point something new out if it weren’t so damned endearing.

“What do you think, huh? Aren’t these sunglasses cool? Do they make me look badass?” he asked, poking his head out from behind the display, a pair of thick red rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

“Yeah, you look great,” you replied, giggling at the tag that hung over his nose. “But isn’t it a little dark for sunglasses?”

“Only cool kids wear sunglasses at night!” he teased, his grin stretching playfully. “C’mere, we need to pick some out for you too, babe!” he insisted, holding out an oversized pair for you, gently placing them on your face as you shuffled closer.

“What d’ya think?” he asked as you studied your reflection in the tiny mirror in front of you.

“Hmm, I like them. Do you think they fit my face though?” you murmured, turning back to Eijirou.

“You look great! But of course, you always do,” he exclaimed, his bright toothy grin filling you with affection.

“Alright, alright, we’ll get them.”

Once you were back outside, you looked up and down the street. “Where to next?”

Kirishima pondered for a moment, his short brows drawing together in thought before he grinned. “Let’s go to the arcade!”

Slipping his hand back in yours, ridiculous sunglasses still perched on his nose, he took off down the street, pulling you along with him.

At this time of night the arcade was relatively empty and Eijirou pushed the dark tinted glasses up into his hair so he could see in the dim room, only lit by the neon lights of the games.

Hanging back, he let you pick the game, unsurprised that you’d gravitated to the Dance Dance Revolution machine. No matter how bad both of you were at it, you never failed to want to play at least one round.

“Hey,” Kiri said as you waited for the countdown, turning to grin at you, a softness in his ruby eyes.

“Hmm?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“I love you,” he said, leaning in to steal a kiss, his warm lips moving tantalizingly against yours.

Three, two, one, dance!

Taken off guard by his sudden kiss, it took you a moment to realize he’d already started, leaving you behind, missing several of the arrows already.

“You did that on purpose, Eiji!” you cried, though there was no heat to your exclamation, laughter taking over as you hurried to hit your marks.

“It’s not manly to cheat! I just wanted a good luck kiss!” he gasped, and you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, though honestly he was probably being completely earnest and you loved that about him.

#joz's 600 celebration #selfships #kirishima x jupiter #kirishima eijirou #eijiphoric #<333

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

Academy Blues

oh, deer

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing

ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3

howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)

“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.

Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.

“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.

“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”

They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.

It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.

“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.

“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.

“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.

Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.

Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.

Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.

“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”

Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.

“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.

“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”

Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.

Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.

Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.

She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.

“Ops training, eh?”

Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”

Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”

Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.

“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.

You could kill them. It’s happened before…

She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”

Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”

Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.

Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.

“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”

Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.

Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.

Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”

Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”

Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.

Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.

She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.

Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?

When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.

“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”

Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”

“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”

May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”

Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.

“Who will I train with?” she asked.

May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅

Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…

The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.

As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.

“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”

Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?

Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.

“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”

Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.

Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.

Why was she getting déjà vu?

“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.

Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”

The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.

Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”

Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”

Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.

Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.

“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.

Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”

The group nodded.

At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.

She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.

The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.

“Ready for our study date?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”

The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.

“Daisy! Jems!”

The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.

They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.

Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”

Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.

Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.

Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.

If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.

A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.

The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.

A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…

“AAGH!”

A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.

Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.

“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”

Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.

Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…

Silence.

Stillness.

Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.

Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.

The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.

#daisy johnson #dousy #daisy johnson/daniel sousa #fitzsimmons #jemma simmons #daniel sousa #leo fitz #timequake #fic #philinda #philindaisy #academy au #ashby writes #x reader #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#marvel #aos #melinda may

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yuzukult · 4 years

Text

effortlessly pt. 2 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (not in this chapter) words: ~3.0k notes: this fic might be longer or shorter than planned, i have no idea what i’m planning for this so...... yeah, figured i should drop something before i drown myself bc i have finals for my online summer semester ;u;

o young love, how i wish i could go back in time // also it’s not edited yet, i usually proofread about 5x because i have the worse eyesight and i read too fast :D series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

The chlorine from the school’s pool overwhelms your senses, triggering you to sneeze a couple times into the crook of your arm. “Bless you!”

Lifting your head to meet your gaze with the owner of the words, you see Jungkook standing before you, swimming cap in one hand and a towel in the other, tousling his hair dry. He doesn’t have a shirt on, just his bathing trunks that hang loosely on his hips, and you swear that if he wasn’t preoccupied, he would’ve seen the drool coming from the corner of your mouth.

“Uh, thanks.”

“You came.” He grins, plopping his wet body onto the bench beside you as you grimace at the water from his trunks splattering at you. “I kind of thought I scared you away earlier.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You say, feigning ignorance. “You told me the other day you wanted me to come by after practice and here I am.”

“You know what I’m talking about. That ‘crush’ conversation.”

You roll your eyes at him, pushing him away playfully. “I thought I told you it was Yura with the crush.” Jungkook shakes his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue in unison. “I’ve known you your entire life. You’re telling me that I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“No, but—” He’s leaning close, his soaked fringe dripping onto your skin, goosebumps forming on your arms. “What?”

“Just trying to get a better read on you.” The proximity between you and Jungkook is small, so small that you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath the entire time until he backs away and you let out a deep exhale. “W-What for?” You manage to respond.

“What do you think about us... doing it again?”

He’s not looking at you this time, hands running through his drenched locks, eyes never leaving the concrete ground. The question startles you. For one, Jungkook was being shy. He never seemed to hide things from you before but that assumption was proven wrong when you saw the girl he brought him the other day. Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to call you up when he just took the biggest shit or even when he picked the longest booger. Why was he suddenly acting bashful?

“... again?” You reiterate, hands clutching onto the bench. “You want to do what again?”

“Uh... sleep together.”

“Jeon, we always sleep together. I don’t understand why you’re being weird—“

“No,” he sighs frustratedly at himself, knowing his question was unclear while slouching over in his seat. “When I say sleep together, I meant have sex again. I feel like I fucked up our first time together and I want to make up for it.”

Oh. Was that all? After the incident, you’d been as emotionally intelligent as you could, pushing to the back of your mind the fact that you’re so in love with Jeon Jungkook and you’ve both had his first kiss and virginity— for him, likewise. How yes, these things were far from perfect but to you, it was perfect because it was with him. That’s all that mattered.

“You don’t need to make up for anything. It was good! You took care of me and made sure I was okay. Apparently, it hurts like hell but you made it bearable.”

“I... really want to try again. What if we try teaching each other so that when the time comes and we meet someone, we’re ready?”

By the time we meet someone. The words burned in your heart, hissing as the pain clenched your chest. You knew that you didn’t want to meet ‘someone,’ you just wanted Jungkook. Just then, the girl comes to mind.

“Is it about that girl?” Jungkook’s head shoots in your direction, brows crinkled in confusion. “What girl?”

You’re chewing your bottom lip anxiously, waving your hanging legs above the ground. “I saw you bring a girl home the other day. Is it about her?”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change for a moment before an ‘ah’ escapes his mouth with the memory. “You mean Dahyun? I’m tutoring her in my free time. I needed some money. What? Are you jealous?” His lips tug in a mischievous smile; he’s genuinely enjoying the way your face contorts into realization, his heart warm at the idea of you wary of someone else capturing his attention.

“No.” You quickly mutter under your breath, a bit annoyed with yourself for letting your emotions get to you so quickly. This was Jungkook you were talking about here— the one guy who could pretty much land a date with any girl at your school, yet he’s over here playing games with you instead. It’s no surprise that he’s teasing you again but you’re wishing he was serious.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the only girl in my life?”

You shove him off the bench, rolling your eyes. “Why did you want me here again?” He’s on the floor, a hearty laugh roaring from his chest. He’s effortlessly handsome like this and it’s no wonder that you’ve fallen for him.

“I think you should reconsider my question and let me know when you’re ready. But besides that,” Jungkook is getting off of the solid ground, rubbing his bottom in the process. “I want you to come to my swim meet this Friday. You’re my good luck charm and I can’t win without you.”

“Why do I feel like those one of girls who are hopelessly in love with him?” You grumble into your arms, rubbing your hands into your face dishearteningly. “I feel so stupid, falling for his charms and everything. You know what he said to me again today?”

Yura’s in the process of shoving the cheesy goodness of tteokbokki into her mouth, sauce spilling out on the sides of her lips. She always had the biggest appetite and ate messily but it never stopped the queue of men standing outside her locker trying to shove in love letters on Valentine’s Day. Yura was a pure beauty— you always found yourself curious how the two of you became friends because you thought you weren’t as special, just average. But nonetheless, Yura had never failed to be there for you, through thick and thin, and your love for her in this friendship was almost the equivalent to what you felt for Jungkook. Except you were in love with Jungkook.

“Wha de he say?” She doesn’t even wait to finish swallowing her food, she just speaks through it, spitting some of the hot sauce onto your side of the table as you scowl in disgust.

“Jesus, Yura, chew and swallow first.”

“Sorry,” She smiles cheekily after emptying her mouth. “What did he say?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the only girl for me? I want you to come to my swim meet this Friday. You’re my good luck charm and I can’t win without you.”

Both of Yura’s brows raise up. “Oh wow, he’s definitely smitten with you. So, when are you gonna tell him that you’re ‘hopelessly in love’ with him?”

You sigh. “I can’t. I’ll ruin our friendship.”

“You’re doing this ass backwards,” She says, shaking her head as she picks out a fish cake from the bowl. “You guys fucked and yet you think that confessing your feelings will ruin your friendship?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you exhale another deep breath of sadness. “I’m just happy with where we are. I like being the special one in his life. What if I tell him and he doesn’t reciprocate feelings?”

“Worry about it then.” She responds casually, stuffing another spoonful into her mouth. “I don’t understand why people get so scared of telling someone how they feel. You never know your opportunity until you try it. Plus, it’s Jungkook. You really think he’s going to just drop you after all these years?”

Maybe Yura was right. Well— there was no way in hell you’d let her know that because her ego would swell up and get the best of her, but she made a valid point. Jungkook doesn’t know that you like him, right? So what if he did feel something for you?

“Think about it. Has he ever had a girlfriend?”

Silent, you’re almost skimming your mental memory of any recollection of Jungkook having a relationship. “Honestly, no.”

“And he tells you everything.”

“Correct.” You answer again.

“Don’t you feel like he’s waiting for something? Or someone in particular? You even mentioned it before, he happens to have the entire women population of this school crawling at his feet and all he does is act dumb.”

A floral square neck short sleeve crop top and blue jeans were what you decided to leave the house with for Jungkook’s swim competition but you don’t feel like yourself underneath this fabric. In actuality, you would never find yourself walking out the house in something so... fitted, opting for something more comfortable and breathable, but you knew today wasn’t a day for that. You’d gather enough courage to finally tell Jungkook that you didn’t want to be just friends anymore, you were ready to take it to the next level.

Sitting down on the bleachers of the humid arena, the stench of chlorine attacks your sense of smell again. You could never understand what it felt like to be Jungkook— he lived for the aroma of the water entering in his nostrils, the feeling of water touching his skin for hours, having so much control whenever he was in the pool. Whenever he was stressed, angry or sad, the first place you’d look for him would be here. Mediations were for some people, but swimming was for Jungkook.

He’s walking toward you, a beautiful grin spreading from ear to ear, wearing what seems to be insufferable competitive swim trunks that hug the lower half his body so tightly it could be a second layer of skin. He hasn’t worn his cap yet, but he’s holding it in his hand with his goggles, arms opened wide for you to come into his embrace.

“I’m seriously so happy you’re here. And look at you! All dressed up. Is this for me?” You scoff yet you’re already in his arms, face snuggled into his bare chest. He smelled like the water but when it’s coming from him, the scent is intoxicating. “Why would you even expect me not to come? I’m always rooting for you and your dreams, you idiot.”

For a brief moment, you’re standing on the sidelines with his arms wrapped around your frame and his chin resting on your head. Being with Jungkook was different, he made you feel a way that none of the guys that came into your life have made you feel.

Summers ago, you met this handsome boy, Taehyung. He was a few years older than both you and Jungkook and a member of the same swim team as Jungkook. Taehyung was the love that you knew realistically would never like you back. He was close to graduation, prepping for the recruiters who would attend their swim competitions to see potential candidates for colleges. Girls were flaunting themselves on him just as much as Jungkook and just as similar to him, his aspirations were a priority. Those girls were put in the back burner. He’d make your heart swell in your chest, constantly bringing you snacks and checking in on you occasionally as you study on the sidelines by the pool, waiting for your best friend to finish practice. You recall telling Jungkook about your childish crush on the guy you barely knew and him responding with, “You just think he’s cute. I don’t think you really like him,” or “He’s just being nice! He’s nice to everyone. Don’t fall for his charms so quickly.”

All of your feelings for Taehyung disappeared the day he graduated, saying his goodbyes to both you and Jungkook while in his blue gown, newly dyed platinum locks disheveled underneath his cap. He ruffles Jungkook’s hair, eyes gleaming toward the younger male before saying, “Take care of yourself, will ya? And take care of the little one too. Don’t let her fall between the cracks.” With that, he left with a scholarship to swim for the college team abroad in the United States, and you haven’t heard from him since.

The whistle blows, signaling the swimmers to get in their positions, and Jungkook lets go of you and you’re suddenly feeling empty. But the look he gifts you is loving, the reflection of the sunlight hitting the pool touches his face before he’s putting on his swim cap and goggles.

Jungkook is standing on the platform, side by side with other competitors from local high schools. Although you’ve come to almost all his practices and attended every single swim meet, you couldn’t exactly grasp onto any of the rules or the jargon but Jungkook never held that against you. He just wanted you there as his personal cheerleader, standing in the bleachers, watching him perform the greatest act as each time he does this is better than the last.

The referee blows a short series of whistles, initiating the start of the race and Jungkook dives into the water in mere milliseconds amongst the rest of the swimmers. He’s fast—incredibly fast that you’re afraid to blink because you might miss something important.

Jungkook was placed in the freestyle 100m event; his coach evidently complimented him constantly for his ability to adapt to the time and switch the types of strokes he needed to use in order to beat anyone neck and neck with him.

Today was no exception. Jungkook hit his first lap in third place; a technique he learned was to never overexert your strengths in the beginning because in the last portion of the race was where you want to push yourself to the fullest. The amount of videos he made you sit through the entirety of throughout your life was countless. He would plop himself in front of the television or computer for hours, observing the olympic and professional swimmers tactics because his parents couldn’t afford a private teacher for him. It wasn’t until high school that he had a real coach, someone who could dedicate their time in training and shaping Jungkook into the athlete he wanted to be. Before that, he would come to school’s indoor pool almost daily to just swim laps and test out what he watched on the internet.

His second lap was closing to its end and like every other swim meet, your stomach was doing flips. There was so much faith in Jungkook, from you, his parents, his team, but you weren’t sure how he felt about himself. He never failed to impress everyone, swooning the hearts of both males and females during these events however never once has he expressed his anxiety before a competition. He just did it because he loved it. Swimming was Jungkook’s passion.

The male next to him is close, they’re strokes away from each other to the point you can’t even tell who’s in the lead. It ends so quickly that the referee blows into his whistle before you realize as Jungkook ascends from the water, snapping off his cap and goggles as he eyes the man in the white and black striped shirt before glancing over at his opponent.

The referee grabs Jungkook’s wrist with another scream of the whistle, and excitedly, Jungkook smacks the water. He won.

Towel hanging around his neck, his eyes sparkle at the sight of you approaching after his team congratulates him eagerly on his win. If you knew better, the sight of you was his own personal win.

“Congrats, Jeon.” You say, playfully pulling on his drenched locks. “I knew you’d win. You always win.”

“I always win because you’re here.” There he goes again, tugging on your heartstrings so carelessly. “Come join us for dinner after this.”

“Only if you dedicate some alone time with me for dessert.” You have no idea what being possess you because you’re abruptly so bold. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head questioningly. “Now you’re just tempting me to cancel dinner and go right to dessert. What do you want to talk about?”

“Just... stuff,” You say, pursing your lips. Before Jungkook can even say anything, another teammate comes up to him, slapping him on his buttock with a bright smile. “Look at little Kook, I’m not even surprised he even won.”

“I told you, I got myself a personal cheerleader. You should get one too.” Jungkook says, grasping onto your arm. “It’s a real energy booster when they’re cute too.”

“Oooo, maybe I can borrow your cheerleader!” His teammate teases but Jungkook clicks his tongue threateningly. “Get your own, this one is mine.” His teammate laughs before shaking his head and walking away to the rest of the group.

“I’m still curious what you’re going to say to me.” He says, turning back to direct his attention onto you. “You think you can skip waiting ‘til dessert and tell me now?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” He whines and despite his height, he still can throw a tantrum like a child. “I really want to—“

“Oppa?”

The two of you divert your fixation onto the owner of the soft voice; blinking blankly, your eyes browse over the girl. You assume it’s Dahyun because her hair is down like the other day and her petite body seems familiar and you’re proven right when Jungkook calls out her name.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a math test tomorrow that you need to study for?”

She has a pink gift bag in her hand, butterfly and heart stickers decorated all over. The bag looks heavy with how the handles stretch to the fullest extent. You’re chewing your bottom lip now; Dahyun was going to confess and you’re unsure if Jungkook can tell.

“Can we talk in private for a moment, Oppa? I have to tell you something.”

“You can tell me here.” He gestures your presence with a grin on his face. “I don’t have anything to hide from her, she doesn’t judge so tell me what you have to say freely. And if she does judge...” Jungkook’s gaze shifts to you as he squints his eyes. “I’ll just beat her up.”

“Oppa, I think I like you. Will you go out with me?”

#gyukultfics #jungkook #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fics #what else do you tag here i totally forgot my train of thought lol #kfanfic #jungkook fic #bangtan #jungkook smut #bangtan smut #bts smut

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Here Comes the Son

Hehehe a pun.

Anyways I stayed up late last night bc I had an anxiety attack and wound up writing during that time so here have some more Marriage of Convenience AU.

——————————————————————————————

“Want Mama,” Iris whined loudly at Stan. “Want see her.” Stan sighed heavily.

“You and me both, kid,” he mumbled. Angie had gone into labor last night, resulting in Ford rushing her to the hospital and leaving Stan alone with Orion and Iris. That morning, Ford had called to let Stan know Angie was ready for visitors. But when they arrived, Angie had already fallen back asleep. Now, Stan was stuck in the waiting area outside Angie’s hospital room, supervising his niece and nephew.

“Uncy Stan,” Orion whimpered, holding his arms out. Stan lifted his nephew onto his lap.

“Getting bored?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.” Stan leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “But your dad doesn’t want to wake up your ma. I guess she punched him the last time he did that.”

“Punch?”

“Yeah, punch. I’ll teach you how to throw a good one when you’re older.”

“Mmkay.”

“What are ya doin’?” Stan looked over. A strange man stood there, his hands on his hips. “Why aren’t ya in the room with yer wife?”

“Uh, ‘cause I don’t have a wife?” Stan said. Something about the man looked familiar, but Stan couldn’t quite place him. The man scowled.

“Don’t have a-” His eyes widened. “Wait. Yer not Stanford.”

“Nope.”

“But his children are with ya.”

“It’s called babysitting, hayseed. Ever heard of it?”

“Hayseed?!” the man squeaked. The door to Angie’s room opened. Ford stepped into the hall. “Stanford, who is this hooligan ya have babysittin’ yer children?” the man demanded.

“That hooligan would happen to be my twin brother, Stanley. We recently reconnected, and he’s been serving as our live-in nanny since.” Ford frowned. “Did Angie not tell you?”

“She mentioned that ya got a live-in nanny, but not that he was yer twin brother.” The man looked back at Stan. “I s’ppose that I should introduce m’self, then.” He held out a hand. Stan shook it. “The name’s Lute McGucket. I’m one of Angie’s older brothers.”

“So that’s why you’ve got that nose,” Stan said idly. Ford’s eyes lit up.

“Lute and Angie aren’t the only ones with that nose!” he gushed. Stan stood up.

“Your new kid’s got it, too?”

“Yes, he does!”

“He!” Lute gasped. “I got m’self a new nephew?” Ford nodded eagerly.

“Yes, the both of you do. Please, come inside, Angie’s finally awake and able to handle visitors.”

“Dada!” Iris toddled over to Ford. Ford knelt to pick her up. “We go see Mama?”

“Yes, my dear, we are going to see your mother now.” Ford poked Iris’s nose, eliciting a giggle from her. “And your new baby brother!” Stan, still holding Orion, and Lute followed Ford into the hospital room. The moment Stan’s eyes landed on Angie, he felt his heart skip a beat.

No, Stan, no. You are not getting a crush on your sister-in-law! Even if she and Ford don’t love each other romantically. But he couldn’t deny the feelings that had begun to emerge while Angie was pregnant. The two of them had spent a lot of time together and grown very close. Angie was beautiful, intelligent, funny, and even enjoyed Stan’s sense of humor. She’s the whole package.

And in that moment, Angie sat up in her hospital bed, looking almost ethereal. She glowed with happiness, a faint smile playing around her lips. Her golden hair shone in the light from the window. Nestled in her arms was a small bundle. From a distance, Stan couldn’t make out much of his new nephew’s appearance. All he could see was a long nose inherited from Angie and full head of thick, golden curls.

“Mama!” Orion squealed happily. Angie looked up from her newborn son. She beamed broadly.

“Hello, my babies. Are ya excited to meet yer lil brother?” she gushed. Orion wiggled excitedly in Stan’s arms.

“Geez, kid, calm down. Or I’m gonna drop you,” Stan teased. Lute gave him a dirty look. Stan brought Orion over to Angie’s bed and carefully set him down. Orion peered closely at his little brother. Stan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Dammit, Ford and Angie are good at having cute kids. Stan’s new nephew had rich, brown eyes and a round face in addition to the nose and hair Stan had noticed earlier. The baby stared at Stan with intense curiosity.

“He has twelve fingers and twelve toes,” Ford crowed proudly. He had come to the other side of Angie’s bed and placed Iris down as well. Iris crawled over to her new brother, brown eyes wide. Stan grinned at Ford, who had come a long way from hiding his hands constantly in their childhood. Angie had explained to Stan her theory. Ford’s children were polydactyls like him, so thinking poorly of his own polydactyly would be like thinking poorly of his children.

Makes sense to me. Stan’s gaze drifted back to Angie, who was happily watching Orion and Iris coo over their new brother. She’s a damn smart woman.

“So, what’s the na-” he started. The door slammed open. A man ran into the room. He had Angie and Lute’s nose, as well as Angie’s caramel-colored hair.

“Sorry, Lute came in while I parked the truck. And parkin’ took forever!” the man said. Angie looked up with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Harper, ya haven’t missed a bit. I ain’t even told folks this lil feller’s name yet,” she said soothingly. The man – Harper – came over to stand by Lute. Ford nodded at Harper.

“Harper.”

“Stanford,” Harper said. His eyes landed on Stan. “And this would be…?”

“My twin brother and live-in nanny,” Ford explained. Stan held out a hand. Harper shook it. “Stanley, this is one of Angie’s other older brothers, Harper.”

“I figured that out,” Stan drawled, breaking off the handshake. Harper’s eyes glinted with interest.

“Huh. Odd that ya never mentioned yer twin before, Stanford, and suddenly he’s not just in yer life but in charge of yer children.”

“Harper…” Ford said wearily.

Wow, Angie’s brothers really like to poke Ford, don’t they? I wonder if they’ve picked up on the marriage being for convenience instead of love.

“All right, I’ll drop it. Now ain’t the time.” Harper beamed down at the baby in Angie’s arms. “Tell me ‘bout this precious bean.”

“Yes,” Angie said happily. She looked at Ford. “Would you care to do the honors? After all, you were the one who decided the name.” There was a hint of a bite to Angie’s tone.

Huh. Maybe she doesn’t like her kid’s name?

“Of course.” Ford cleared his throat. “Everyone, I would like you to meet Apollo Hercules Pines.”

Okay. I get why she doesn’t like it.

“It’s nice,” Lute said, obviously lying through his teeth. Harper, however, nodded thoughtfully.

“I think it’s wonderful,” he said. “Strong and unique.” Lute rolled his eyes and muttered what sounded like “of course you do” under his breath.

“When I saw his golden hair, I immediately knew we had to name him after the sun. And his middle name was actually chosen by Stan from a list of options that Angie and I settled on.”

“I was sure the baby would be a girl,” Angie mumbled quietly. Ford frowned.

“Angie, is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, just-” Angie messed with Apollo’s blankets. “I weren’t plannin’ on namin’ my child Apollo Hercules.”

“I asked you what you thought. You agreed to it.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near lucid, with all those drugs they gave me durin’ the labor,” Angie argued. “And I was exhausted, too! You know how I get when I’m tired. I can’t think straight.” Stan cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Look, it might be a weird name, but it’s definitely gonna set the kid apart,” he said. Harper nodded.

“I agree. And honestly, Apollo ain’t close to the strangest name we’ve got in our fam’ly. I mean, Angie, yer full name is much stranger.”

“Even my name ain’t as bad as Fiddleford’s,” Angie retorted playfully. Stan frowned. “Another older brother of mine.”

“Yep, it’s a bit of a McGucket fam’ly tradition to have an odd name,” Lute said. He ruffled Apollo’s thick curls. “Since this lil feller’s got the fam’ly nose, makes sense he would have that other fam’ly trait.”

Angie and her brothers continued to chat cheerfully, discussing family gossip and cooing over the three children. Once again, Stan found himself watching his sister-in-law. She laughed. The sound awakened butterflies in Stan’s stomach. A hand was placed on Stan’s shoulder, startling him. He looked over. It was Ford.

“Stanley, thank you,” Ford said quietly. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For stepping in. If you hadn’t intervened, Angie and I would have had a full-blown argument over Apollo’s name. In front of her brothers and the children, no less.” Ford took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but be enormously grateful that you’ve helped us so much. Not just in supervising the children, but in remedying some of the problems Angie and I had.”

“Hey, I’m doing what I was put on Earth to do,” Stan said firmly. “Help you out.” A smile appeared on Ford’s face, but disappeared just as quickly.

“But can that make you happy?”

“Geez, Debbie Downer, relax.” Stan elbowed his twin. “Your son was just born. On Halloween! Celebrate!”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m fine, Ford. Really.” Stan shrugged Ford’s hand off his shoulder and leaned over Angie’s hospital bed, smiling down at her and Apollo. He didn’t notice the contemplative look that came over Ford as he watched Stan fawn over his sister-in-law and new nephew.

#is that Stan beginning to catch feelings for his sister-in-law? why yes it is!#and the best part: it's MUTUAL #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #Marriage of Convenience AU #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

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binniedeactivated · 3 years

Note

That whole denying them bc of race or career issues is a really good angst prompt...just saying👀👀

a/n; this was way past due so I hope my precious bby forgives me <3 @crocsonkrocsjams (based on her)

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. || 𝐡.𝐤

─▸🖤 ❝ @[@𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ]

✎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

✎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

✎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1.3k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞? 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

he rushed through the streets like a madman, coddling snacks in his hand while trying to shield his face. no, it wasn’t cold outside.

heuning kai just didn’t want to be seen.

it was already late in the night, he snuck out of the hotel rooms and who knew where the saesangs were hiding. they could’ve jumped out of a bush and snapped his picture in a heartbeat. but kai was determined to get to her house and he refused to deny the fact that he was thinking about her all day.

throughout the whole world tour even, He’d been anticipating touring the United States for this very reason. The goodnight and good morning texts, flirty messages and emojis just weren’t enough. He couldn’t wait to see her and he hasn’t seen her since the last time Tomorrow by Together toured the US.

and that was years ago.

he quickly fixed himself up a bit and made his way up her apartment stairs with his heart thumping obnoxiously in his chest. he didn’t wear anything too fancy, an oversized hoodie with baggy jeans and sneakers maybe, but that was just how their relationship was. they never had to dress up for one another.

finally making it to her door he knocks softly. kai’s mind ran wild. he was almost shaking with anticipation until she finally unlocks the door. his smile was wide and he hugged her gratefully. and she looked just as beautiful since he last saw her. deep sea green eyes, almond colored skin and gorgeous fluffed brown hair.

hesitantly but surely she hugged him back. she couldn’t deny the fact that she was happy to see him.

“kaia,”. he started, “you look so pretty”. he complimented while towering over her thick five foot five frame. she was wearing a black graphic band t-shirt and some simple spandex shorts. just something comfy for the night since she normally slept naked. but none of that would be happening while kai was around at least.

she mutters a small thank you while he takes his jacket off.

“why are you acting so shy? you didn’t miss me?”. kai teases.

“of course I missed you. How was the show?”.

“it was nice you should’ve came”.

she rolls her eyes playfully, “you know damn well I’m not getting caught up with you and your crazy fans”.

kai laughs while swiping his thumb over her cheek softly. “aren’t you my fan too?”.

she stifles a blush. in a way she hated how flirty kai was but loved it all at once. she smiles instead, “what snacks did you get us?”.

“all of your favorites. I got those hot chips you like from the corner store down the street”.

she furrows a brow, “corner store?”.

“yeah”.

“you went to the corner store by yourself at this time of night? why didn’t you tell me I would’ve came with you”.

he pinches her doughy cheeks as if she were a child. “aw was my little baby worried sick? i’m a big boy I can handle a corner store at 2am”.

“oh yeah? and what if someone tries to rob you? what’s your next move?”.

kai sucks his teeth and walks to plop himself down on the living room couch. “as long as they don’t rob me of your love!”. kai shouts in the cringiest voice possible. she laughs, “kai!”.

“then I’m fine!”. he continues like the silly boy he was. “seriously if you don’t hurry over here I’m stealing your honeybun”. he threatens while digging through the white plastic bag for it. she rushes behind the couch to try and snatch it from his hands but nevertheless kai moves away from her instead.

“kai you better not!”. she shrieks playfully and kai laugh hysterically, “oh! is this hot cheetos too?”. she makes her way to the other side of the couch to try and snatch it from his hands that way but no matter what he’d always raise the bag higher, away from her short arm’s reach.

“come on kai give it back”. she reaches desperately, not realizing that kai had her right where he wanted her.

“give me a kiss and I’ll give it back”. he grins.

she laughs, “boy! give me my snacks back”.

he puckers his lips while grabbing her body and wrestling her to the floor. “please kaia please please please give me a kiss!”. he whines into the crook of her neck. she yelps at the sudden shift in positions.

“why am I on the floor?”.

“because you’re being mean to me”.

“you’re the one holding my food hostage”.

he shadows his lips over hers suddenly making her heart thump. it isn’t like she hadn’t kissed him before but she always got the same spark whenever she did almost as if she first met him.

“just one?”. he raises the intonation in a question like manner without really asking a question, he just went for it.

he sparked the flame between them both layering his delicate lips on hers with his arms caging her body. as soon as she felt his lips she hated how she instantly thought about when he’d be going back. when it was time for him to leave and go back to korea leaving her lonely once again. so for that very reason she kisses him harder hoping it would be enough to suppress the emotions she felt in his absence.

kai raises her chin a little deepening the kiss loathing in the softness of her lips and the unyielding love that ran through his veins. if the boys found out where kai was he’d be a dead man. but it was anything for her. absolutely anything. he caresses her cheeks, unapologetically using his tongue whenever he got the chance.

her stomach churned beneath him. she was nervous and kai was eager. sometimes she felt so out of place. what was kai doing being with someone like her? kissing her? loving her?

was it worth it?

she falters. kai detaches his lips from hers slowly and carefully wondering what was wrong. he kind of already had an idea though.

“you know I love you, right?”.

she nods, “I know kai. and that’s the problem”.

“why is it a problem?”.

“was it a hassle to get here? don’t you ever get tired of hiding?”.

kai shakes his head, “it’s not that I’m hiding it’s just--”.

“you’re hiding me? right?”.

“what are you talking about baby? where’s all this coming from?”.

“I don’t want to be the one that ruins your career kai. i wouldn’t be able to live with myself”.

“you’re not ruining my career. Idols date all the time so what?”.

“yeah sure, idols date all the time. but they don’t date black or brown people kai”.

“why are you making it about race? you know I don’t care about what color you are”.

“but the media does”.

“so?”.

“so what do you think that means for you? you’ll get shitted on by the media, you’ll get lectured and in trouble by Bighit-- i don’t want any of that to happen”.

kai sighs and intertwines his fingers with hers, kissing the back of her hand.

“we’ll be fine I promise”.

“but for how long? it’s only a matter of time before you get caught”.

“why are you being like this? when we first started dating we talked about this and we both decided that we didn’t care about what anyone has to say about us”.

“well I care now kai. your group is getting more known which only makes you a bigger target. you’re their maknae, the baby, the innocent boy who does no wrong. this type of shit can tear your image down beyond repair”.

“i don’t care about any of that”.

“how? you worked hard to get where you are didn’t you? not every teenage boy with a passion for singing and dancing get to debut under one of the biggest companies in korea”.

“why do you care so much? do you not want to be with me or something?”.

“kai I love you but I’m not worth it. who am I? just a black/mexican girl living in this small town-no one knows my name, I’m not rich, I get lonely sometimes, I’m bigger than most girls---”.

“i don’t care about that stuff so stop it. why are you belittling yourself like that?”.

“because why do you even love me kai? what is it? am I ‘exotic’ to you? are you using me to make yourself seem more open minded? Am I one of many colored girls that you mess with while you’re touring?”.

“stop fucking talking like that. you know none of that is true”.

“I don’t think we should keep continuing this”.

kai could feel his heart shatter at the sound of her words. “what?”.

“I don’t know about this relationship anymore”.

he searches in her eyes desperately trying to find a clue. “what don’t you know about it? we love each other so we should be together no matter what anyone has to say”.

“not at the expense of your career. maybe, maybe someday we can make this work but definitely not now”.

kai swallows the lump in his throat, “so that’s it? you’re not even going to fight for us? after everything?”.

she shakes her head. “not right now kai. just not right now”. she mumbles meekly. kai could feel the fresh hot tears well into his eyes. he was angry and confused but most importantly he was blinded by love. he couldn’t believe she was willing to throw away everything they built just to protect his image. especially when he didn’t even care.

he got up from the floor and slid his jacket back over his shoulders trying to hide his tears and frustration as best as he could. as bad as she felt in her heart she felt like it was the right thing to do. either this, or she was going to have to face the harsh treatment from the public when they found out their precious heuning kai was dating a brown girl.

but even her own heart broke at the sight of kai’s tears.

“I’m only trying to protect you kai”.

halfway out of the door already he sniffled before he replied, “protect me or protect yourself?”.

“kai i’m sorr--”.

“no. I’m sorry for thinking that you loved me just as much as i loved you. thinking maybe you’d be fearless for me just as fearless as I am for you. you think I care that you’re black kaia? do you think that I care that you’re from a town in the middle of nowhere, that no one really knows who you are, that you’re thicker than most girls and look nothing like the girl idols you see on tv? I don’t care about any of that shit. you’re beautiful and you have a heart made of gold and that’s all that matters to me. you love me so perfectly. you love me how I want to be loved and that’s what I love about you. you think you’re just a worthless being but--

but I love you because you’re so much more than that”.

#heuning kai #angst #kai drabble #heuning kai drabble

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sufferingsoup · 4 years

Text

Listen I’ve been fucking ~obsessed~ with @thenerdyalchemist ‘s pirate AU (I’m sure nobody could tell bc I definitely don’t reblog eVrY dAmN pOsT of it nope not me never😂😂) and I just needed to write this scene. I’ve had it in my head since I read all the HCs for this AU and I needed to put it on paper lol. I’m not great at writing whatsoever, I’m v out of practice and def didn’t edit this, but I wrote it and it exists so I might as well post it right? Lmao. Anyway here it is hope u enjoy 😩 (Also sorry in advance abt the wack ass formatting lmao. I never make posts on tumblr and I highkey wrote this in a note on my phone and then pasted it in here lol)

Runaan grinned as he practically hung over the side of his ship, watching the familiar dock inch closer and closer. It felt like years since he had been back to this town, /his/ town. He was finally in the home stretch, and his crew couldn’t dock the ship fast enough for him. Before, he could stay out at sea forever. If it weren’t for the need to restock supplies every once in a while, he probably would. The open ocean was his home town, his crew was his family, his ship was his home, he didn’t need anything else before. But now? Now he had a reason to /want/ to go back to land.

/Him./

It had been an absolutely agonizing few months. When he had first set sail, he figured it would be like every other quest. Of course he would miss Ethari dearly, but they would both be busy with their respective work, and they could write to each other in the mean time. But this time was different. The moment he left his heart had sunk, leaving a gaping hole in his chest that widened further as he watched Ethari sit on the dock and wave until he could no longer see him. The first thing he did was write a letter to him. Even though he had only just left, he felt like a huge piece of him was missing without him there by his side. He found that he could not enjoy himself as much as he normally would.

The salty smell of the sea and the rhythmic pounding of the waves that used to calm him no matter how upset he was now served only to fill his thoughts with memories of midnight walks along the beach. The sand between his toes and rough, yet gentle fingers interlacing with his own, shoulders knocking against each other every so often. Looking into those bright amber eyes reflecting the moonlight back at him, putting all of his emotions clearly on display for Runaan to see.

The beating heat of the sun that would warm him through to his bones after a stormy night now reminded him of the forge, his mind replaying all the soft, intimate conversations they had while Ethari tinkered away on whatever his current project was. That thick accent of his, and his deep voice that could command the attention of an entire town if he wanted to, clashing oh-so-beautifully with his gentle laugh and sweet words.

The sea shanties the crew would sing in celebration of a successful mission, the dancing that accompanied them, the merriment he once found endearing and joyous and hilarious now dragged Ethari’s ethereal voice through his mind, reminding him of the many dances they shared during the festivals Ethari would drag him to when he visited. The brightest, purest of grins gracing that magnificent face as they held each other close, moving together to the beat and singing along with the familiar lyrics.

Everywhere he looked he only saw Ethari. All the sounds he heard, the scents he smelled, the touches he felt, the flavors he tasted, everything came back to him. /Oh, Ethari would love these jewels, he would make the prettiest necklace out of them!/ ... /The fire smells just like his workshop tonight, I wonder what he’s working on right now/ ... /Ethari so adores the sound of the seagulls calling out over the beach, I’ll have to tell him how many have followed us!/ All of his thoughts were consumed by /him/. It was driving him mad not being able to see him, hear him, touch him for himself.

But today was the day. /Finally/ he would be able to hold him again, and this time he would not let him go.

Ethari hummed softly as he carefully shined thin wires around the glittering stone. He wanted to make a unique little ring as a returning gift for Runaan. The shiny silver wires braided together and held a small, elegant opal in the center. Runaan’s last letter had informed him that he was almost back again, he was expecting him any day now. He had made sure to clear his schedule for a few days so he could welcome him back properly. He had so many things to tell him and show him, and Runaan always brought him lots of sparkly things when he returned from his quests.

He has been terribly lonely while Runaan was away. He was always a bit uneasy when he left, always worrying for his safety and missing his presence. Working on his projects was much more fun when his heart was safe and sound right next him to tell him stories and laugh at his awful jokes. But this time was much harder.

He was gone for a long time, and even though they wrote each other frequently, nothing could quite fill the hole in his heart. He decided he hated sleeping alone ever since Runaan had begun to stay with him when he would return. Every morning he would awaken to find himself disappointed at the empty silence that met him. Runaan would always be up bright and early, practicing his sword-fighting in the living room or getting chores done for him before the sun even had the chance to peak over the horizon. He would have tea and breakfast ready for him every morning, and Ethari was convinced that there was no better sight than a messy, early-morning Runaan bustling away in the kitchen with his hair down.

No, he didn’t like having breakfast without Runaan at all. Just like he hated walking the market without their arms linked together, Runaan haggling over everything Ethari tried to buy. Just like he hated wandering the beaches alone, without his hard-ass, pirate-king lover to playfully kick sand at and push into the water. Just like he hated coming across a new merchant with fun new foods and goods he had never seen before without Runaan to explain what they were and eagerly buy the lot for him. Life was utterly dull without Runaan by his side.

But soon he would be back. Soon he would be back in his arms.

Runaan pulled his hair out of its messy bun as they approached the dock, allowing it to flow in the breeze as freely and lightly as he felt. The moment the ship was close enough to the dock, he leaped over the side and climbed down.

“Make sure she’s tied down good, lads! I’ll be back in a bit to help with the unloading!” He called to his crew as he ran towards the street.

His heart fluttered as he felt the little ring hidden in his coin purse bounce against his leg. Today was the day. He sped through the market on the familiar route he had taken hundreds of times before. People jumped out of his way as they saw the tattoos on his face, gazing after him questioningly. It wasn’t very usual to see the dreaded pirate king running through town like a giddy schoolgirl. He didn’t care, though. He was on a mission of utmost importance. His body was leading him to his heart as fast as it could carry him. Before he knew it, he could see the familiar old door with the splintering old sign dangling above it, swaying in the light breeze. His grin widened as he picked up his pace for the final few strides. He skidded to a halt in front of the workshop door and kicked it in.

“Ethari!” He shouted, ready to combust from the pure excitement and the slight nerves zipping around throughout his body. The tinker gasped in surprise from his position at his worktable, whipping around to see the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on grinning in the wide-open doorway. He gasped again and slapped a hand over his mouth as hot tears began to sting at the corners of his eyes.

“Runaan!” He replied, getting up from his stool and running toward his lover, “I didn’t know you’d be back so-“

He stopped hard in his tracks a few paces away from him when Runaan suddenly dropped to one knee, staring up into his eyes with the softest look he had ever seen on his hard features. Ethari watched silently with wide eyes as Runaan dug in his coin purse and retrieved a shiny golden band adorned with tiny, glittering aventurine crystals around the middle, holding it up to him.

“Marry me, Ethari.” He breathed. The tears were flowing freely down Ethari’s cheeks now.

“Are you sure?” He asked, voice small and quivering. Runaan nodded hastily, grabbing Ethari’s hands tightly.

“I don’t want to be without you for another second, my darling heart. I want to travel the world with you by my side. I want to show you all the amazing things I get to see. I want you to sing to me while we lay together in our hammock and let the waves rock us to sleep. I want to make you tea every morning for the rest of my life, just so I can see that beautiful, sleepy, lopsided grin of yours first thing every day. You are all I need in this life. Please, my love, my /heart/, be my forever.”

Ethari fell to his knees in front of him, sobbing into his hands. Runaan pulled him into a tight embrace, tangling a hand into his messy hair as Ethari buried his face in the crook of his neck. They stayed that way for a moment, Ethari crying onto his shoulder as Runaan comforted him gently. When Ethari had calmed down enough to think, Runaan chuckled softly.

“Is that a yes?” He teased.

Ethari pulled back, cupping Runaan’s face in his hands and staring deeply into his eyes.

“What else could it possibly be, my shade?” He sniffed before crashing their lips together desperately.

After a moment of passionate kissing, Runaan pulled back and took Ethari’s hand gently in his own, sliding the sparkling ring onto his finger. Ethari lifted his hand to admire it. The gems were the color of Runaan’s eyes, and they sparkled beautifully no matter which way the light hit them. Suddenly, he remember the little ring he had dropped on his table when his door had been busted in. He gasped and ran over to grab it. Runaan followed him curiously, trying to peek over his shoulder before Ethari turned and held it up to him.

“It was just supposed to be a ‘welcome back’ gift, but it seems it might be a bit more than that now.” He giggled as Runaan stared at it in awe.

“It’s beautiful...” he said as Ethari took his hand and gently placed it on his finger. He turned his hand over and over again, taking in every bit of the artistry and craftsmanship that went into the tiny piece of jewelry before grinning up at his newly betrothed. He fell into Ethari’s strong arms and kissed him again - more gently this time - before resting their foreheads together.

“So,” Ethari started with a mischievous grin, “does this mean I finally get to watch you swab the poop-deck now? I was never on the ship long enough to see it.” He teased. Runaan groaned, but he couldn’t mask the laugh that bubbled up from his belly.

“No,” he sassed back, “it means /I/ get to watch /you/ do it. The /king/ never does hard manual labor.” He grinned, pinching Ethari’s sides. Ethari snorted and grabbed his hands, wrapping his arms around him again and pinning them behind his back firmly. He smirked at him and brushed his nose lightly against Runaan’s.

“We’ll see about that later tonight now won’t we, my /king/.”

#tdp pirate au #tdp #ruthari #runaan #ethari #long post #sorry im bad at fomatting loool #my writing

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angelicspaceprince · 4 years

Text

Proposal Addict

Author: Ama

Title: Proposal Addict

Pairing: Zhuk/Reader

Character/s: Zhuk

Word Count: 2, 896 words

Warnings: Character death, its a bit sad, lots of Russian thats probs wrong its from google translate

Tags: @trelaney

Prompt: Zhuk had this weird obsession with proposing, but it’s not like you minded.

Notes: I wrote this ages ago and realised that I hadn’t published it here. I have 3 fics (including this one) that’ll be coming up within the next like 30 minutes or so, see how I go (all prewritten). Thanks to @monsterlovinghours for helping me out with the vows bc ya guy Ama here struggles with the romance

Buy Me a Coffee

Proposal Addict

The two of you had barely started dating when he first asked you. To be fair, he was incredibly drunk and mumbling nonsense in a mix of Russian and English as you carefully led him up the stairs and into his room, umming and ahhing where appropriate as his huge form leans heavily on you, causing you to stumble. That’s when you catch a genuine question through the mess.

“Ty tak khorosho zabotish'sya obo mne. Vykhodi za menya, roza?” You look up at him in slight confusion.

“Zhuk, I don’t speak Russian remember? Can you repeat it?” You ask him as you push him onto the bed, yelping when his hands grab your wrists to pull you down with him. It takes a few seconds for him to remember what he said and translate it, his face unusually expressive as you watch amused at the sight of him try to use his alcohol-soaked brain.

“Will you marry me?” His words are slurred and his accent his thick, but you know instantly what has been said.

You know that he was too drunk to mean it, and telling him so would just end with him insisting that you were wrong. So, instead, you lean in close to kiss him gently before pulling back. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Why?” This was as close to whining at the Russian would ever get to, and you found it adorable. You shrug.

“I might just say yes.” A happy purr radiates from his body as he slowly starts to fall asleep, snoring loudly as his arms keep you trapped against his chest.

After that, it just became a regular occurrence. Zhuk knew he wanted to marry you pretty much the day he met you, and even though you thought he was joking with the constant proposals, it always made him smile that you never said no, just to ask again the next day. Which he did. Every single day.

Sitting next to each other by the fire, reading whilst holding hands? Well, you were reading, Zhuk was looking down at you with a small, fond smile on his face. “Dorogaya?”

“Mm?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Ask me again tomorrow, perhaps then I’ll say yes.” You lock eyes with him, a small smile on your lips as you both allow yourself to feel comfort from the inside joke.

Walking alongside one another in the garden in total silence? Zhuk would always pull you down to sit on one of the few seats and get down on one knee in front of you, a ring made out of strands of long grass he’s picked at in his hands. “Marry me, malishka?” You take the ring and put it on calmly before kissing the back of his hand, the smirk on your lips giving away your answer already.

“Ask me again tomorrow, lyubimiy. I might just say yes.”

A rare night where you could both just lay in bed together, enjoying each other’s company in silence when suddenly Zhuk says in a quiet voice ‘Y/N, ty lyubov' vsey moyey zhizni, vykhodi za menya zamuzh?’, you don’t even need the translation to know what he’s asked.

“Ask me again tomorrow, dorogoi, perhaps then I’ll say yes.”

He only ever questioned it once. You wanted to go to a market to check out the stalls, and he never could deny you anything. You were looking over a blurb of an old, worn novel when he asked you quietly. “Marry me, kiska?”

Quickly you reply. “Ask me again tomorrow, I might just say yes.” He chuckles, unable to hold back the smile on his face as you put the book back, clearly not interested once you’d read the back.

“Why is it you never say yes?” You blink as you put your hand around his arm and start to walk towards the next stall. You seem to consider your answer before you finally give it.

“Because I never want to stop hearing you say it.” You finally confess as you meet his eyes briefly, only pulling away when your attention is pulled away from him and towards the seller of the stall.

It was a couple of years before your answer changed. It was nothing special, to be honest, Zhuk thought you were going to say the same mantra you had repeated every day and for once wasn’t going to ask. When you brought it up as you sat comfortably in his lap with his arms around you, you could almost feel the shrug. “Will your answer change if I ask?”

You hum. “You never know until you ask.” He chuckles.

“Marry me, tsarina?”

“Yes.”

There is a pause as he pulls back to look down at you, your face spit with a cheeky grin. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that and it was a rare occasion you got one up on your partner. “Y/N?” You hum to let him know you’re listening. “Is this-”

“Legit? Uh-huh.” You turn so you are straddling him, arms locked around his neck. “Zhuk, moya lyubov', I love you more than anything else on this earth. Every day with you feels like what heaven should feel like. I want nothing more than to be able to call you my muzh. So yes, dorogoy, I’ll marry you.”

Both of you ignore the Irish accented ‘fookin’ finally’ that comes from the room next door as he pulls you down for a slow, deep kiss as he slides the ring that he totally has not been keeping in his pocket for over a year now over your finger.

You figured it’d stop there, you were engaged, why would he continue to ask? But he still did, every day. And, just like always, you’d smile and tell him to ask you again tomorrow. During the stress of planning a wedding that was suitable for the both of you, it was a nice reminder that through it all, you loved each other. And the comfort you found with your little exchange helped with your pre-wedding jitters. When you wake up the morning of your wedding, you roll your eyes when you see him looking down at you with a small smile on his face.

“Marry me, kroshka?” You snort before moving to snuggle up against him.

“Ask me again in 8 hours. I might just say yes.” You tease before kissing his chest lightly. “I’ll see you at the altar.” You promise as you stand up to get ready. He grumbles as you leave the bed, clearly wanting you to stay with him for a bit longer. “Remember your promise?” You ask just as you throw on your robe and move to sneak back into the master bedroom, your maid of honour insisting the two of you spend the night apart for good luck, even though everyone knew any attempt to keep Zhuk from you would be foolish. What they didn’t count on was you sneaking out to be with him.

“I won’t make you cry.” He repeats the promise you made him make when the both of you started to write your vows.

“Good. If anything smudges, you’ll be facing the wrath of my cousin, got it?” You warn playfully before walking back over to the bed and leaning in to kiss him softly. “At the altar?”

“At the altar.” He says against your lips, hands resting over yours. You have to pull away, knowing he won’t be the one to move away first. Once you’re out the door, he falls back onto the bed with a thud. He hated wedding traditions.

The morning was hectic, everyone rushing around to get last-minute preparations organised and to get the two of you where you needed to be on time. It was all a blur for the both of you, being pulled in different directions by different people who seemed to have a better idea of what was going on and what was happening, when it was happening and where it was happening. Still, Zhuk stood in front of the mix of both your and his friends and family right on time, just as you were rocking up to be walked down the aisle.

Zhuk rarely cried, and never did so in public. But seeing you in your wedding dress that just seemed to accentuate your beauty and made you, if even possible, even more perfect than usual in his eyes? He was in awe, and in shock that this was finally, actually happening.

Once he took your hand and lead you up in front of the priest, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Everything was muffled. To the point that you had to nudge him when the priest asked him for him to read his vows three times. He could feel the amusement from his comrades but brushed it off as he starts to recite the words that took him months to perfect, having annoyed Scarafaggio and Scarabee over it near daily. He just wanted it perfect for you.

"For far many more years than I care to admit, I existed in darkness. I saw the sun, but didn't feel its warmth. I knew the stars were there, but felt none of their enchantment. You, dorogoy, were the light my life was missing. From the moment you set foot into my life, you've been a candle to my darkened soul, a beacon to my lost heart. With you by my side, I have no need of the moon, the sun, or the stars. You are my sun. You are my moon. You outshine all the stars in the night sky. I have asked you many, many times now, darling, if you would marry me, and each time you've smiled and told me to ask you again tomorrow. Even as we stand here, know that I will never stop asking you to be mine, just as I will never stop loving you. Moy svet. Moya lyubov'. Moya vse. Moya prekrasnaya zhena. Will you marry me?" He squeezes your hand as he finishes, your eyes welling up throughout.

You can’t hold back your tears as he finishes his vows. “You bastard, you swore you wouldn’t make me cry.” You whisper out, causing a chuckle from the crowd. “I’m tempted to say tell you to ask me again tomorrow just to see what you’ll say,” you start as his hand moves up to thumb away your tears, being careful not to smudge anything, “but yes. Moy obozhayushchiy muzh, I’ll marry you.”

To be honest, you thought once you were married the proposals would stop, but the only thing that changed was the frequency. Instead of daily, it was near daily.

The first time it happened after the wedding was literally hours after the reception. The both of you decided you needed a minute just to relax and ended up just lying on the bed, you on top of him as you rest your head against his chest, his hands cascading through your hair and tracing nonsense patterns against the skin of your back.

“Marry me, moya zhena?” You look up at him as he just smirked down at you. You roll your eyes.

“We just- We are- Fuck it. Ask me tomorrow. If you’re lucky, I might say yes, moy muzh.” You shake your head in amusement as you lean back down.

So it continued, every moment he felt the urge to propose, the words just seemed to slip out. Sometimes, you’d remind him you were already married to which he’d reply “ah. Well, that makes me a lucky man. Marry me again, moya zhena?” You’d roll your eyes and tell him to ask again the next day with a small smile and blush across your face. Other times, you’d just tell him to ask again tomorrow, perhaps the answer will be yes. Like your own special declaration of love for one another, only something about it felt deeper than just the two of you saying ya lyublyu tebya.

Then, it happened. To be fair, it was bound to happen eventually, Zhuk was surprised it took as long as it did, but still, it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

He got hurt.

To be fair, it wasn’t lethal, but it still knocked him around a little bit. By the time he was brought home, he was unconscious with Bee making sure he slept and wasn’t in pain. He was aware that you were in the room with him, his hands itching just to be able to hold yours. He could vaguely hear Scarabee telling you that it was a near miss, that he was incredibly lucky, and that he’d be fine in a couple of days. Your hand slipped into his and his whole body seemed to relax. It always just felt right when your hands were in his.

He slept for what felt like weeks, but was really just a couple of days. You didn’t leave his side once, having one of the staff bring you food, and the other dons would periodically call in to check on you. Still, your hand never left his as you anxiously waited for him to wake up.

It was late, the sun had gone down and you were sleeping when he started to stir. Him squeezing your hand and groaning lowly at the slight pain caused you to wake up with a jolt, but waiting in silence to see if he was alright. His voice is weak, but still, he manages to say what was on his mind. “Marry me, moya prekrasnaya zhena?”

You look at him in disbelief because you start hitting him, each smack feeling like nothing as you continue to slap at his skin, crawling into his lap to get better coverage of his body. “You, you bastard, don’t you come in here with your moya prekrasnaya zhena bullshit, you are hurt! You could have died! What the fuck, Zhuk, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You stop hitting him in favour of just laying down on top of him as you start to sob against his skin. “I thought I was gonna lose you. Never seen you so still.” He hushes you as his hands move to squeeze you tight against him.

“You didn’t answer my question, moye solntse i zvezdy.” He reminds you gently.

“Ask me again tomorrow, it might be a yes when I’m not pissed off.” You grumble into his skin, causing him to laugh lightly. “Not off the hook, mister.”

“I know, moya zhena, I know.”

It was a few weeks later that you celebrated your second wedding anniversary. The both of you decided to go to a smaller part of town to a restaurant the both of you liked. You had requested minimum security, just wanting the night to be between you and Zhuk complied. Afterall, who would go after either of you in a small restaurant in his own district.

Turns out, an idiot would.

You walked out in front of him, thanking him for holding the door and reaching back to link arms with him. He saw your face go from one of pure bliss and happiness to one of pain and confusion before he heard the shots. He yelled for someone to go after the shooter and another to call a medic as he helped you to the ground, ripping your shirt back to see the damage. The bullet was still inside, but you were bleeding out pretty heavily. Clearly, it had nicked an artery, or perhaps even your heart. He didn’t care, he just wanted you to not be in pain. You gasp out loudly as he balls up his jacket and puts pressure on the wound, causing the pain to increase as your blood soaks into the dark fabric. “Zhuk.” Your voice is already weaker than usual. “Zhuk, look at me.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N.” He assures you. “We will get you to the hospital, they’ll take care of you, just- just- stay with me, please tsarina.” He begs. It breaks your heart to hear his voice so weak and broken, as if he knows the prognosis without even needing a medic’s opinion. Still, he held onto hope.

Your hand moves up to brush away unshed tears, even though you have to pull back when your muscles become weak. “Zhuk. Moy muzh. Will you marry me?” You say with a small smile on your face, tears streaming down your face.

Zhuk tries to blink away the few that are threatening to fall, but they land on your cheeks despite his attempts. “Ask me again tomorrow, I might just say yes.” He says with a broken smile as he pushes down harder.

Your laugh is breathy when you hear your answer, going to reply when you realise it's too hard. You breath one more time, eyes locked on his as you try to portray how much you love him through them before your chest settles, and your eyes go glassy.

The shouting of ‘no, no, no, Y/N, moya zhena, please, no’ alerted the paramedics to where you were exactly, rushing in to try and pull your rapidly cooling body away from the sobbing Russian, large body seeming to be impossibly small as he clings to you as if you would wake up in his arms and reassure him it's fine.

Instead, you slept on.

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tr4shmouth-tozi3r · 5 years

Text

Just let me help you - reddie

requested: yes, get ready for the fluff anon

summary: We all know Eddie is a complete germaphobe and we also know Richie is the type of boy who doesn’t wash his hair for four days. How did these boys ever fall in love? One day, Eddie has an accident when the Losers run into the Bowers gang and yes, there are lots of germs and anxiety and mouth breathing bullies, so Richie offers to help Eddie. “Just let me help you, for fuck sake, Eds.” “Since when did you grow a heart, asshole? DON’T TOUCH ME, RICHIE!”

pairing: richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

warnings: swearing, bullying, slight physical assault bc henry and his goons are deranged assholes so, and loooooads of reddie fluff so be careful u might die:’)

“So, do you guys think they’re ever gonna shut up?” Mike asked the rest of his friends as they all stood still, all of their eyes glued to the two boys before them. They watched as the pair bickered with each other. They all wondered if the two ever got tired of it.

“Well, not until one of them admits they’re in love with the other. So, I guess that means never.” Stan joked, but the losers all knew it was true. These boys were madly in love and showed their love for each other in the ugliest of ways. Society was such a cruel thing.

“Oh boy, did you hit that nail right on the head or what?” Bev scoffed with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Listen, Eds-”

“Do not call me that, Tozier! How many goddamn fucking times do I have to tell you that!?” The smaller boy yelled in frustration as he gripped his fanny pack in one hand while he wagged his finger at the taller boy with his other hand. Eddie would never admit it, but God did he love that nickname.

The taller boy laughed, a shit eating grin adorning his face as he pushed his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and ran his hand through a knot forming in his tight black curls.

Richie loved to tease Eddie. He loved to get a rise out of the smaller boy. He would never admit that he loved the way Eddie would huff at him in anger and his face would heat up instantly and he would let himself get so worked up over every little thing Richie would do to him. He loved having that control over him. He loved him.

“It was a fucking accident, chill. How come you weren’t this mad when you saw me leaving your house last night after I fucked your mom? C’mon man, priorities.” Richie scolded the boy playfully, a smirk on his face and his head shaking disapprovingly.

“Alright, that’s it! THAT’S IT!” Eddie threw his hands up in the air as he turned on his heel and hastily picked his bike up. He tried his hardest to hide the smile threatening to come across his lips. He wouldn’t dare to let Richie know he enjoyed this shit. Richie laughed loudly as he voiced his not so sorry apology. He glanced at their friends and shrugged in amusement and they all rolled their eyes knowingly.

“D-D-Do th-they suh-seriously think that w-w-w-we don’t kn-know?” Bill asked with a giggle.

“Don’t know what?” Richie sauntered over to the group and threw a glance back at Eddie who was about to take off and he secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

“Noth-“ Ben went to elaborate and was quickly cut short.

“Hey, queer boy.”

“Uh oh.” Ben whispered.

They all turned and watched as Henry and his goons circled around Eddie, who at this point was stood still on his bike supporting himself on one leg with his other foot hovering over one of the pedals. His body was stiff and his arms began to tremble as his anxiety rose through him.

“Hey, shit bag, leave him alone!” Richie’s expression hardened and he stepped forward slightly.

“Richie, don’t.” Eddie’s shaky voice called out.

“Aw, how sweet. Your little boyfriend thinks he can save you. How silly.” Henry’s shrill laugh made them all cringe.

“Bowers, back off.” Mike spat the words so harshly that Henry’s head snapped towards them.

“I suggest you back off, blackie.”

“Alright, applause to the biggest douchebag around. So you’re an asshole and you’re racist. You must have a great resumè.” Richie just didn’t know when to shut up apparently. Henry looked at his friends, nodding his head toward the group. Patrick and Belch walked in their direction, knocking Richie down in the process and his glasses right off of his face.

“Look at you, losers. How pathetic are you? The little nerdy gay boy is the only one with balls? Ha.” Henry spoke to them, but his gaze stayed upon Eddie as he made eye contact with the boy and each word dripped with hostility.

Richie quickly grabbed his spectacles and took the hem of his hawaiian button up, wiping at the lenses rather quickly. He couldn’t see and if he couldn’t see that meant he was vulnerable and Richie couldn’t stand that, “Fuck you, dickwad!” He scrambled to his feet, only to be yoked up by Patrick by the collar of his shirt.

“Come on, Bowers. Leave him alone. Afraid to pick on one of us instead? You’ve been targeting Eddie quite alot lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the queer boy here.” Beverly crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Shut your whore mouth, bitch. Don’t make me shove my cock down your throat, again.” He seethed through gritted teeth and Beverly’s face fell.

“We all know Beverly wouldn’t let you touch her with a ten foot pole, keep dreaming.” Stan cackled and instantly shut his mouth and flinched away as Belch threw himself forward at the boy, laughing at his scared reaction.

Henry was fuming at this point and so he shoved Eddie over. The small boy tumbled to the ground below, splitting his knee open in the process.

“Eddie!” Richie pounded on Patrick’s chest. The older boy’s hold didn’t let up, though.

“Fuck, fuck!” Eddie gulped and reached for his fanny pack, suddenly feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him. My mom will never let me outside again if she sees this shit, he thought. He took notice of the dirt coating his wound and instantly his throat felt like it was closing in on him.

Germs. Infections. Death.

“I’ll take that.” Henry snatched his fanny pack from his reach.

“Hey, asshole, he needs his inhaler, what the fuck? So you kill little kids, too!?” Richie shouted over Patrick’s shoulder. He watched as Eddie struggled to breathe.

“Shut the fuck up, fairy! Keep talking shit and your little boyfriend is gonna get it!” Henry shouted angrily as he kicked at Eddie’s side and the small boy yelped in pain and tried his hardest to drag himself away from Henry, but Vic stepped in his way.

Richie swallowed hard and shut his mouth. He knew Henry meant it and so did the rest of the gang, so they all watched nervously, afraid of their next move. There might have been more of them, but these boys were dangerous and they carried weapons. Weapons they weren’t afraid to use, either.

“Hey!” Their heads whipped around to see a shop owner in town approaching them. So maybe Henry didn’t really think it through when he decided to attack them in the middle of town. He dropped the fanny pack at Eddie’s side and Vic backed away from the boy’s small frame. Patrick released Richie from his grasp and Belch stepped back from the rest of the group, “Knock it off you punks and leave those kids alone!” The man shouted and Henry called his goons back to him.

The boys retreated back to Henry’s car rather quickly without another word spoken. All the kids let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding, except for Eddie, who at this point was barely able to breathe.

“Eds!” Richie ran to the boy’s side.

“Don’t-,” gasp, “f-fucking-,” another gasp, “touch me!” And another gasp. Eddie scrambled for his inhaler and Richie kneeled down beside him, grabbing his fanny pack for him. Eddie began to puff on the inhaler and his eyes went wide at the sight of Richie’s dirty, greasy fingers pressing into the fabric of his most sacred possession.

He snatched it from Richie’s hands, cringing at the thought of all the germs that were swimming all over him at this point, “Just let me help you, for fuck sake, Eds.” Richie grabbed the fanny pack from Eddie’s hand with a sigh of frustration.

“Since when did you grow a heart, asshole?” Richie scoffed in amusement at him and pulled out some alcohol wipes and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, “DON’T TOUCH ME, RICHIE!”

“Oh shut the hell up, ya big baby.” He grumbled back in response as he tended to Eddie’s wound. The strangest feeling washed over Eddie. It was a feeling he had never felt for Richie, at least not this powerfully. It was a feeling of adoration. He adored this boy, even with his unkept greasy hair and his crumb infested fingers from whatever lunch he had that day. Eddie was a complete germaphobe and yet he adored this boy who was practically a walking germ.

His demeanor softened and his face flushed. He was blushing. He could feel it. Richie looked up at him and smirked at the pink tint on his cheeks. They both felt eyes on them and their heads shot towards the group.

“Suh-see what I-I-I muh-m-mean?” Bill laughed so loud it resonated around them and the group giggled in amusement at the two boys. Now it was Richie’s turn to blush.

“Yes, completely.” Stan agreed and the rest nodded in agreement.

“What the fuck are you talking about, assholes!?” Eddie shouted and Richie voiced his agreement.

“Oh nothing,” Beverly mused, “but would you look at the time!? We gotta get going guys! Make sure you get him home in one piece, trashmouth.” She winked at the two and the group sauntered off to their bikes and rode away, leaving them utterly flustered and confused.

“What the hell was that?” Richie asked and Eddie shrugged unknowingly.

“I have no idea, but I do know I’m bound to get an infection letting you do this for me. When is the last time you washed your hands, Rich?” He asked and Richie faked a pained look.

“Hey, I’m a clean guy!”

“Your hair is so greasy, dude. Look at your fingernails, too! There’s crumbs under them from God knows when! I’m totally gonna get an infection.” Eddie rambled and rambled until Richie threw his hand over his mouth.

“That’s what all these supplies are for, asswipe. Now stop being a jerk and appreciate me for once. I don’t do this shit for just anybody, ya know.” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat as Richie spoke softly and carefully to him, inches from his face. His breathe smelled like a ham sandwich and a marlboro.

Eddie laughed mentally at himself, wondering how he seriously managed to fall for someone like Richie. Maybe it was the fact that Richie didn’t care what people thought of him. Or his loyalty to his friends and loved ones. God, he had no clue, but for some reason he wanted to taste Richie’s lips against his.

“S-S-Sorry...” He forced the words out of his throat and hated himself for stuttering.

“Woah, hi Bill, didn’t know you were in there.” Richie joked and his laugh bounced through Eddie’s ears like it was his favorite song. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Okay, fuck you, Tozier.”

“Chill, Eds, we’re in public. Wait till we get home.” He winked and Eddie blushed again. Goddamn it, Eddie, stop it!

Richie noticed the pink blush running across Eddie’s cheeks and his heart fluttered at the thought that maybe Eddie liked the way he flirted with him. Richie was horrible at showing his emotions, especially emotions that were deemed wrong by society. He never thought, as feminine as Eddie was, that he could ever like Richie back. He still tried his hardest to tease him into realizing it. Maybe it was easier that way, if it was unspoken, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to himself either. Maybe they could both know and no one would have to say anything. They would just know.

“Seriously, thank you, Rich. All jokes aside, I appreciate you.”

“Just say you love me, no need to sugar coat it, Eds.”

Eddie smiled and rolled his eyes, “Oh shut up!” He shoved him playfully and as Richie fell backwards onto his bottom, he grabbed ahold of Eddie’s hand and pulled him toward him. Their foreheads smacked together and their breaths mingled briefly. Richie’s glasses went crooked and his heart leaped and his palms began to sweat. Eddie was frozen in place, his hand still gripped tightly in Richie’s.

“Uhhh, I-I-,” Eddie went to speak and stammered nervously and for some reason Richie was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him and so he did.

Eddie was stiff for a moment, wide eyed and confused. He relaxed almost instantly, letting the kiss take over him.

Their hearts were soaring as they pulled away from each other. The kiss was nothing crazy, but the fact that there even was a kiss was enough to send their hearts into overdrive and for their stomachs to flip and twirl and drop and they could have both sworn it was a dream.

“You should let me help you more often.” Richie whispered and Eddie blushed again.

Okay seriously thought I would have had this finished asap so sorry to the anon that I told this would be up within the hour. More like 5 hours😭 I work overnights and my job is never crazy busy, but tonight was ridiculous so I had to stop in between loads of times. But I finished it and I hope the anon who requested this enjoyed it ❤️

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