#But like a little music box could be considered a treasure

[elderberries-and-honey]

Despite having fallen on hard times, Winifred took it upon herself to host a party on Christmas Eve with all their loved ones. Back in the workhouse, they were lucky to afford anything better than porridge for dinner. But now that she had a family of her own she was determined to make it special.

Millie, Beth and Louise could not allow her to do all the cooking alone so they each put on their aprons and happily got to work beside her. They spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen preparing for the dinner, sounds of laughter heard above whisks mixing doughs and icing frantically inside porcelain bowls.

Valerie began helping herself to the wine intended for cooking early on in the day, already causing her to become a little tipsy before they'd even put the ham in the oven. Beth of course was the first one to scold her, but with Ozzy nearby, she wouldn't raise her voice. Instead, she put her hands on her hips with disproving eyes and a scowl of disappointment. It was moments like these where Winifred couldn't help thinking that Beth truly was meant to be someone's mother.

Ozzy remained close while the women worked. He wasn't a shy child by any means and soaked up all the attention he got from everyone telling him how adorable his Christmas outfit was.

At last, nearing the hour of 7 o'clock, with everyone gathered round the table wearing their finest silks, all of their hard work would be enjoyed by all.

They set up the dining table with everything they had prepared - cranberry sauce, a charcuterie board with aged cheese and sausage, potatoes grown right on the Baudelaire's farm, delicious cookies and pies for dessert, warm spiced rum and hot cocoa to drink, and best of all, a perfectly cooked ham that was from a frequent patron of the pub that had been gifted to the McAdam's.

Everyone treasured the food, knowing full well that their meal wouldn't be anywhere near as extravagant without Millie's expertise, which they all took turns admiring. Between the spiced rum, and the thrill of Christmas only hours away, they chatted excitedly between bites throughout the entirety of dinner.

Everyone went back for seconds, some even going for thirds until all of them, even the picky eaters, left the table with their bellies full.

No one could afford to give that many presents this year but not a soul amongst them seemed to mind. They each were completely content to simply enjoy each others company. Even the children, who were eager all the same to receive their new mittens and perfectly ripe oranges. Besides, they both were still too small to actually understand that they hadn't gotten much compared to others.

Lawrence had received new cotton fabric to sew himself up new work shirts and Winifred a plethora of new ink wells and paper from the McAdams. All of them received something hand-knitted from Beth, and from Millie, beautiful cross-stich embroideries to hang in their homes.

It was a terrific haul, and certainly more than anyone could ask for all things considered. However, the most surprising of all was Lawrence's gift to Winifred - two tickets to the theater come Spring - which had, of course, been suggested by Marmee.

After all the gifts had been opened, the night carried on late into the evening. Lawrence even brought out the old music box he had been gifted for Christmas nearly two decades prior and Jackson and Louise began dancing around the living room elegantly. However, drunk on rum and holiday cheer, Lawrence insisted that he and Valerie could do better.

He and Valerie were clumsy, tromping all over the others feet and losing their place in the steps to the dance. All in good fun, Millie and Winifred began cackling as they watched them, unable to contain how humorous it was to watch, while Beth dramatically hung her head in shame.

The children began to grow rather fussy, both Ozzy and Nellie awake far past their bedtimes, and the festivities had to come to an end eventually.

Winifred and Lawrence stood in the doorway, thanking their guests for coming and helping in the kitchen, as well as all their delightful new gifts. Winifred and Lawrence watched them go until they could no longer see their silhouettes in the dark, both ignoring the cold until they could no longer stand it.

The night had been exactly what they needed to forget their worries even if it couldn't last forever. While drifting off to sleep that night, everyone would reflect on what a wonderful Christmas it was, contented to have spent it together.

next / previous / first

#ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #decades challenge #ts4 storystelling #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #winifred baudelaire #lawrence baudelaire #oscar baudelaire #beth herbert #louise mcadams #jackson mcadams #valerie mcadams #millie thomas #eleanor mcadams

[writer-in-theory]

Happy Birthday, Eddie Munson — steddie.

Summary: Steve meant to slip the birthday card into Tina's locker, but the smile on Eddie Munson's face made it all worth it—even if he forgot to sign the card. Prompt: C1 - Secret Admirer Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Teen Word Count: 5.4k Content Warnings: Language, Minor Self-deprecation, Hospitals Read On AO3: Here A/N: This is another fill for @harringroveson-bingo !!

When Eddie was fifteen, he had a secret admirer.

It was simple and unexpected, just a birthday card slipped into his locker the week of his birthday. It was one of those corny ones from the general store, with a little bumblebee on the front with text that read ‘Hap-Bee Birthday’. The inside had a handwritten note tucked in the corner, the words shaky and curved like the writer had been in a rush.

Happy birthday, gorgeous. I hope you have a day as sweet as you are, you deserve it.

There was no name, no hint as to who would have bothered wishing Eddie “The Freak” Munson a happy birthday when no one had seemed to care before. He’d tried to look at every face in his graduating class that day, searching for a smile or nod, even a pen streak in the same bright blue that had been used on the card. Yet, no one had given him anything. In fact, besides Uncle Wayne, the only person who’d even acknowledged his birthday at all was that secret admirer with their silly little card that Eddie would treasure. All Eddie could do was tuck the card into his locker for safekeeping, leaving it there front and center for two weeks before he finally took it home to stash in his room. 

The next year, when Eddie had grown older and a little meaner, hardened by the crueler words his classmates had learned through high school, he hadn’t been expecting anything. And yet, despite his worries, when he opened his locker on November 5th another card was waiting for him. It was the same dorky kind of card, this time with a pair of otters holding hands and a caption that read ‘Happy birthday to my otter half’. 

Immediately he was grinning, looking down either side of the hallway in an attempt to find whoever had left the card behind. When no one stood out obviously, he turned his attention back to the card, hands shaking as he opened the card in search of another handwritten note from his admirer. Sure enough, in the same blue ink was another note. Eddie couldn’t help but think that his admirer was working on their handwriting since this one seemed more intentional with far fewer shaky lines and near-illegible letters. 

Happy birthday, gorgeous. If today is half as wonderful as you are, then it’ll be a damn good one.

Still no signature. There still wasn’t anything else to go off of, except for the fact that they were clearly still in school too. With only one note per year though, Eddie knew it would be near impossible to find out who was sending him birthday cards. So he’d hold onto the ones he had, keeping them close for the reminder that there was someone in the school who understood him. There was someone—though they were obviously too scared to admit it—that saw Eddie as lovable. 

He wanted to know all about them. He kept the cards in a box in his room, occasionally pulling them both out to re-read. Maybe he could find some clue hidden within the words, something that would give him a hint as to what his admirer was like. Eddie didn’t even need to know their name yet, but longed to know anything that might explain why they’d chosen him. What kind of music did they listen to, and what did they want to do after school? Were they in the marching band? Did he already talk to them?

The cards continued. Senior year, he had another, resting on top of the books stacked in his locker as usual. 

Happy birthday, gorgeous. If being like you means being a freak, then I want in. Don’t let Hawkins High get you down, you’ll show them someday.

Then, more curiously, his first repeat year came with another birthday card on the 5th of November. Considering he’d been the only one who’d been held back (and only because the teachers were refusing to help the “poor damaged Munson boy”), that meant his admirer had to be in the year below his.

It also meant that when May rolled around and Eddie didn’t graduate again, he inevitably had to say goodbye to his admirer forever. He still held onto the slim hope that somehow, his admirer would find a way to sneak a birthday card to him. It never came though, not even when Eddie had spent the night before wishing on every plane in the sky he’d call a shooting star, wishing for just one more chance to find this person.

By the time March rolled around, Eddie had forgotten entirely about his admirer. Between cheerleaders dying in his trailer, and pretty ex-jocks storming into his hideout yelling about magical wizards and a girl who can move things with her mind, an anonymous birthday wish seemed like the last of Eddie’s worries. 

But when he lay on the ground of the Upside Down being torn into by demon bats from Hell, all Eddie could think about was that he hoped his secret admirer would find happiness. They deserved it, for ever thinking that Eddie Munson could be more than what Hawkins made him out to be.

When Eddie was thirteen and Uncle Wayne’s old dog died, Wayne had told him that death was sometimes the peaceful thing. It could be a good thing, it allowed those who had lived all the life they needed to rest. That seemed like a load of bullshit when Eddie woke up after dying, because nearly every square inch of his body felt like it was on fire. It also felt much colder than what he assumed it would be, given where everyone in Hawkins told him he was going after. 

Death also looked like a hospital, for some fucking reason.

“Eddie?” Turning his head, Eddie was met with the sight of his Uncle Wayne slumped over in a stiff hospital chair, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. It looked like he was seconds from melding right into the chair, exhaustion carried in every joint. 

Eddie had half expected to see the kids if he ever survived any of this, all of them gathered around him in the hospital. He’d at least assumed Henderson would be there, with Steve Harrington in tow like the ex-jock never had anything better to do than drive Dustin where he needed to be. Harrington, who was every bit as sweet, charming, and funny as Henderson had claimed he’d become, who’d made Eddie shamefully wish for even one more day of the Upside Down shit if only it meant spending more time with him. Eddie might’ve even hoped for Buckley and Wheeler, who’d begun to worm their way into his heart too, the bastards. 

He supposed it only made sense that it was just him and Wayne again, together against the world as it had always been. 

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie tried to laugh through the scratchiness in his throat, sending himself into a coughing fit severe enough to have him sitting up and clutching his chest for relief from the burn. Wayne simply sat with him through it, reaching out to rub his back until the coughing subsided. “Sorry,” Eddie winced once it was over, not oblivious to the worry in Wayne’s eyes.

“Don’t you pull that shit ever again, you hear me?” Wayne stared at him seriously, not even trying to hide the tears making his eyes glassy. 

Suddenly Eddie felt twelve again, sitting in a hospital bed exactly like this one while his Uncle Wayne told him that he was moving to Hawkins, Indiana. He’d felt small in the massive bed then too, squirming against the itchy sheets and tight bandages, wondering when he’d be able to smell fresh air that didn’t make his throat itch again. Wayne had held his hand then too, finally answering the questions with blunt honesty that no other adult ever gave him. He’d been the first to tell Eddie that the way his dear old dad had taken him on jobs, how he’d tried a getaway chase with little Eddie in the front seat could have ended with a greater tragedy than being bored in a hospital for three days.

He wondered how much anyone had told Wayne about what happened. This wasn’t the face of someone whose entire world had been turned around with admissions of monsters and hellscapes, but then again Wayne Munson was one of the strongest people Eddie had ever met in his entire life. Nothing would ever surprise him about Wayne, not even if he’d admitted he’d known about the Upside Down all this time.

“Sorry, Wayne,” was the only thing Eddie could even think to say. His head rolled to the side, squishing half of it on the pillow so he could properly face his uncle. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Wayne forced out, though his entire body language relaxed after scrubbing his face harshly with his hands. His next sentence was spoken much softer like he was finally coming to terms with what had happened. “Putting yourself in harm's way, risking yourself for those kids...I’m proud of you, son.”

It wasn’t the first time Wayne had told him that. No, it was like he’d heard it somewhere in some self-help book on how to raise traumatized nephews because the man seemed to tell him it every day. Washed the dishes while Wayne was working? Proud father moment. Failed high school a second time but hey, his grade point average had actually gone up from the last attempt? He might as well have earned his degree that day with the way Wayne had whooped and hollered and shone in pride. 

It was far too much to hear now though, remembering far too plainly what it had felt like to be eaten alive, to know that those moments could have been his last. He didn’t want to spend any time considering what it would have been like if the group hadn’t gotten him out quickly enough, or consider what Wayne would have been telling the group instead if he’d died a hero. Would he still be proud of him?

“No more hero moves, cross my heart,” Eddie answered, trying to give that same cheeky smile that used to make his uncle howl with laughter. “Everyone’s okay?”

“They were worried somethin’ terrible about you,” Wayne told him, gesturing to the other side of the hospital room. 

Eddie wanted to cry when he turned his head. It was all cheesy stuff—little stuffed bears and balloons, and even a crayon drawing signed by Holly Wheeler. They all cared enough to leave him something, to wish that he’d get better even if they couldn’t be in the room when he’d woken up. There was one, though, that stood out to him even from the collection of items gathering on the counters on that side. 

“Is that a birthday card?” he asked, turning to face Wayne again. “Who left a birthday card?”

Had his secret admirer really heard about what had happened already? Had they come by, leaving behind the card that had been missing the last November?

“So many of those kids’ve been in here, I have no idea who left what,” Wayne admitted, though did stand to hand Eddie the card. It was the same silly kind he might have found at Melvald’s, this time with a little strawberry and a caption telling Eddie to have a berry happy birthday. It was the note written inside of the card, though, that had Eddie blushing furiously.

Get well soon, gorgeous. I know it’s not your birthday yet, but I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to wish you a happy one ever again. Stick around for quite a few more, for me.

Eddie kept the card close to him, right there next to the pillow on the bed. Even when the nurses came in to check on him, and Wayne had left to get ready for work, the card had stayed there to help him through every bit of his hospital stay. It was a lifeboat in the vastness that was his hospital stay, contingent on how well nightmare-inducing monster wounds healed over the next few days. Even when everyone else had to go back to their own responsibilities, his secret admirer remained there for him. 

In the morning, he had a new visitor. 

“Eddie!” the familiar voice screeched as the boy sprinted into the room, quickly followed by a pair of white Nikes and another voice calling after the first, “Hey, no! He could be sleeping, don’t yell.”

 Nothing could ever prepare him for the speed at which Henderson rushed to his bedside, immediately wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re awake! You can’t scare us like that, Eddie, it’s not cool,” Dustin said after pulling from the hug. 

“Hey, couldn’t let Harrington be the only hero,” Eddie teased, sending a pointed look to the man standing in the doorway of the hospital room. “You can come in, I don’t bite. Or maybe I do now, d’you think this is how vampires are created?”

“You’re not a vampire,” Dustin scolded, though he was laughing too.

“You’re feeling better, Munson?” Steve asked when he finally moved away from the doorframe, eyes tracking the hospital bed like something might attack him if he dared turn away.

“I’m feeling about twenty pounds lighter,” Eddie teased, “I’d highly recommend the demobat diet.”

There was something so odd about making Steve Harrington laugh. The sound snorted out of him at first, like a burst of water from behind a dam as though he hadn’t truly intended to let it out in the first place. Then he’d seem to realize where he was, or rather, whom he was with, and then he’d grow red in the face and the laugh would peter out. Steve would wipe his hand over his mouth like he might be able to stuff the laugh right back in. 

Eddie found himself longing to hear the sound in all its glory. He’ll add that one on the checklist after ‘graduate from Hawkins High’ and ‘clear his name of murder’.

“You’re a hero, Eddie!” Dustin told him as if being able to read his thoughts. “Hopper and Owens’ team of freaky government people—no, I know, trust me—spent all weekend working on a story. No one thinks you’re a suspect.”

“Just like that? Some government suits wave their hands and I’m just fine?” Eddie questioned, instinctively looking to Steve for some kind of confirmation of what Dustin had said.

“Yeah. Some people in town aren’t taking it too well, but mostly...you’re free,” Steve confirmed, smiling brightly. 

Apparently, they’d told the town it was an earthquake and not the death of an interdimensional monster that had been created in Hawkin’s very own freaky ass lab. Wayne had been told a little of what happened after he’d questioned the whole cover story, but mostly they left it for Eddie to explain when he was ready. 

Though there was some damage to the town, it wasn’t enough to completely destroy the town’s functions. School was still continuing, and as much as the Party begged to stay home so they could visit Eddie, their parents said no. Dustin had wanted to come sooner, he’d told Eddie about four times the entire visit, but their lives were all hectic after the final battle.

It made sense, it did. It didn’t help Eddie’s loneliness in the moment, but he’d get through it. He was used to pushing through the tough moments on his own. 

“What’s that?” Dustin asked, not bothering to wait for approval before he was snatching the card from under Eddie’s pillow. “Birthday? I thought it was in November.”

“It is, you nosey little brat,” Eddie laughed, reaching out for the card again. “I’ll have you know, I have a secret admirer.”

“Seriously? Who is it?”

“If I knew that, they wouldn’t be very secret, would they?” Eddie said. “I don’t know. Went to high school with them. I’ll find them eventually, if they want me to.”

Dustin change the topics quickly when the idea of romance and secret love grew to be too boring for him. It was easy to listen to the kid talk, every once in awhile throwing in a comment that would reroute the conversation more often than not. It was nice, relaxing. If Eddie closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the Upside Down had never happened and he was sitting back at Hellfire Club with all of his friends.

Dustin stayed until Steve was reminding him of the curfew his mother had set for him. He’d hugged Eddie tight then hurried out of the room, leaving Steve to awkwardly raise a hand in goodbye with the promise to be back again soon.

Eddie hoped Steve kept his promise.

The birthday cards kept appearing. Eddie tried to stay awake to catch the suspect but time and again, he’d inevitably succumb to the pain medications pumped through the drip line, waking up to a new cheesy card. No one on the staff seemed to want to tell him who it was either, either saying they hadn’t seen anyone drop it off or that there’d been a handful of people his age who came to visit and it could’ve realistically been any one of them.

“I’m starting to think it’s a joke,” Eddie explained, setting the wooden box Wayne had brought over for the cards back on the side table. “Harrington, have you seen anyone else coming in here?”

That was the other odd change. Steve Harrington came to visit him nearly every day, even if it was a quick visit before or after his shift at the Family Video. He told Eddie it was because the others were busy with their families, and weren’t allowed out of the house after disappearing for a day and being accused of being in a cult, but Eddie couldn’t help but think it was because he was a hair lonely, too.

“Me? No, haven’t...haven’t seen whoever it is,” Steve answered, rubbing at the back of his neck and tugging at the hair there. “Do you have any ideas?”

“That’s the thing!” Eddie shouted, feeling the excitement building in him at the chance to talk about this with someone. No one else had seemed to understand the significance of it all, that they were more than just birthday cards but promises of something good and worthwhile being in Hawkins. It was the promise that, somewhere out there, someone had looked past all the rumors and dramatic gestures and had seen him. They’d seen him and wanted to stay.

Apparently, Steve Harrington understood it too. The Harrington-Wheeler breakup scandal had been well-known throughout the school, and it hadn’t been difficult to see the downward progression in the jock’s moods after the infamous scene—so it was easy to figure that Harrington understood deeply what it meant to not be wanted. 

“He doesn’t leave many clues. I know he graduated in ‘85 but that’s all I can figure out.” With little to do in the hospital, it had been the perfect time-consuming activity for Eddie to pour over each and every card, searching for anything that would tell him more about this person.

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” Steve asked, hands fidgeting with themselves in his lap. He’d said it out loud, hadn’t he? Eddie hadn’t meant to reveal his second theory, especially not to the King of Hawkins himself who might’ve once beaten him up for such a confession.

“The handwriting, mostly,” Eddie conceded. “Don’t worry, big boy, just ‘cause I like guys doesn’t mean I’ll come onto you too.”

“No! No, I know that Eddie, I do,” Steve rushed to correct, even lifting off the chair a little in his seriousness. “I—Shit, I’m...I like guys too. And girls. I just like people, I guess.”

There weren’t many things that could leave Eddie speechless. The time he saw Judas Priest in concert, the first time a guy had ever kissed him when they were high in his van, and now Steve Harrington telling him that he was bisexual. All Eddie could do was stare, even when Steve began to blush and curl his shoulders inward under the look. 

“It’s not that big a deal, man,” Steve tried to brush it off, rubbing at the back of his neck again as if to broadcast his nervousness.

“Jesus H. Christ, this is a huge deal, Steve!” Eddie shouted excitedly, moving as well as he could to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing the chair Steve was bent over in. “This is the hugest fucking deal. You, Steve “The Hair” Harrington, like to suck dick with the rest of us. You know what this means?”

“What does this mean?” Steve asked, with the sort of fond exasperated look that made Eddie want to take a picture and keep it close, forever. 

“It means you’re a certified, genuine freak!” Eddie cheered, hardly minding the strain in some of his healing wounds when he raised his arms in the air to cheer. “Welcome to the team, Stevie, how’s it feel?”

“Honestly?” Steve asked, tugging his hand through the front swoop of his hair. It was almost irritating how often he could stick his hands in the mop and still have it look devastatingly perfect. “It feels pretty good, man. If I’d known this is what it was like? I would’ve been a freak a long time ago.”

Then the man seemed to realize what they were talking about. He shook his head a little, head dipping like it was too much to make eye contact with Eddie at that moment. “Anyway, your secret note guy. You’re really serious about finding him?”

“He’s remembered to wish me a happy birthday every year for four years, Steve,” Eddie answered nearly immediately. “He remembers me, every year, and always takes time out of his day to let me know that. Of course, I want to find him.”

“But what if...what if he’s not what you’re expecting? What if you get disappointed?”

It was a possibility, Eddie supposed. It could end up being all a joke, or just someone who wanted to pay kindness to someone who needed it without really wanting any kind of relationship in the end. It could all still be a dream, too, and he’d wake up back in Hawkins High without having anyone in his corner. 

“As long as they’re real, I can’t be disappointed,” Eddie admitted, hoping it didn’t sound as cheesy or desperate as he felt.

They didn’t talk about his secret admirer again. Instead, they talked about plans after school and how all the kids were doing now that they knew with absolute certainty that this Upside Down shit was done for good. Steve stayed until sunset and one of the nurses came in to remind him that he still had to follow visiting hour rules too.

A week after the Upside Down, something went wrong.

They were calling it some kind of infection, and it had spread too quickly to stop it early. By the time they had any idea what was going on, Eddie was sweaty and gross, too out of it to understand anything. In brief flashes of consciousness, he thought he heard the staff telling Wayne that this was scary serious, that there was a chance he wouldn’t pull through after all.

It felt a little like he was on another planet, in those days when his body was fighting off some strange bacteria. There was no pain, no town of people to worry about when he recovered, just simple blissful nothingness.

And then he recovered. 

It was like a rope was connected to his belly button, yanking him harshly back into his body with a pained groan. They were clearly still pumping him full of pain medication, but the overwhelming soreness that came from days spent in a stiff hospital bed still hadn’t eased.

“Eddie? Are you awake?” a voice sniffed out to his left, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps over to his side of the bed. “Eddie?”

The room was too bright, as always. He wished hospitals had a dimmer switch or at least some way to turn off the fucking lights that were clearly trying to blind every patient in the whole damn building. Eddie winced, blinking through the blurriness that came from having his eyes closed for however many days he’d been out. Still, he wasn’t wholly convinced that he wasn’t still out, considering the sight before him now.

Steve Harrington was on his knees by the bed, holding onto one of Eddie’s hands between both of his own like it was a lifeline. Those big brown doe eyes were glassy and full of tears, letting some of them slip down in glossy tracks down his cheeks. The sight reminded Eddie of those Greek paintings he’d seen on a field trip to a museum in middle school, where the tragic hero looked absolutely gorgeous in their complete and utter sorrow. He hadn’t understood at the time why anyone would want to capture people in their grief forever, but looking at Steve’s fragile expression now, he almost understood.

“God, Eddie, I thought you were gonna d—” Steve winced, cutting himself off before he could say the word they both were thinking.

“Hey, can’t get rid of me that easy,” Eddie chuckled, voice a little deeper and rougher from disuse. “Please don’t cry, Steve, I’m not worth all those tears.”

“Stop, please,” Steve suddenly begged, eyebrows drawing together in near frustration even as a new wave of tears fell over his lower eyelids. “I wish you’d stop talking about yourself like that.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie told him, shrugging his shoulders as best he could in bed. “It’s really okay.”

“It’s not okay, Eddie, it’s not!” Steve pressed, using his free hand to scrub harshly at the tears on his face before reaching behind him on the chair for something. “It’s not okay. You keep letting everyone around you act like you’re not the kindest, funniest, most badass person in all of Hawkins. Like, for some reason you don’t think you’re worth the effort either and that...that fucking sucks, man.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he died and went to some version of heaven, because after the kind of speech he thought only existed in the cheesy romance films Wayne liked to watch when he thought Eddie was asleep, Steve pulled out a birthday card.

A fucking birthday card. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but every time I try to talk I just mess it up,” Steve continued, holding out the card with a shaky hand for Eddie to take. “I’m no good with my words but...but I can do this, so...”

The inside of the card was filled to the brim with writing, the words as small as possible while still being legible. Eddie’s hands quivered as he tried to read, having to rest the card on the bed finally to make it even possible for him to focus.

Happy birthday, gorgeous.

I know your birthday is November 5th, but somehow I can only find the courage to tell you how I feel in these cards.

It was an accident, the first time. I meant to put it in Tina’s locker next to yours, and then even worse I forgot to sign it. But maybe it was for the best I had because you never would have thought it was something good if you’d known it was me, back then. I wasn’t going to do it again, but I saw that smile when you read it. I saw it when you opened your locker days later, I saw how your entire face would soften like it was the most prized possession you’d ever had, and I knew then I was hooked.

I looked forward to November every year after that. I wanted to be the one to make you smile, to bring you some sort of happiness. There was so much I wanted that I never thought I could have, but most of all it was you. I wanted to know everything about you, wanted to see what you kept hidden away from everyone else in the school. I wanted to know who Eddie Munson was.

And hell, I did. The Upside Down never did anything good, but maybe just this once I can say something good came out of being involved: I got to know you. 

Then you almost died, Eddie. Twice. You almost died twice and I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you everything. I thought you’d die never knowing that you’re the most radiant person I know, and that every moment I get to spend with you I feel like the luckiest person on Earth. 

I really like you, Eddie, and I knew maybe from the moment I first saw that smile that I would love you too. 

Eddie read over the words once, twice, three times as if to make sure they actually existed and wouldn’t change on him. It didn’t seem real that after all this time, it was Steve who’d been his hope for so long. It was Steve Harrington who’d been able to see right through him from the start and didn’t run from what he saw. It was Steve Harrington who was the first person who made him feel entirely capable of being loved in that way.

“What the fuck,” Eddie hissed out, fingers running gently over the words like that might help him take them in better. “Steve, what the hell.”

The slight crumple in Steve’s expression should’ve clued Eddie into how his statement was perceived, but all he could do was stare with wild eyes at the man who’d just poured his heart out to him. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie. It doesn’t have to mean anything, we can pretend it didn’t happen. But I needed you to know, I just needed you to know,” Steve hurried out, the tears beginning to build being the only thing that snapped Eddie out of his complete shock.

“Like hell, we can pretend,” Eddie returned just as quickly, “I don’t wanna pretend. Stevie, you...it was you.”

“It was me...surprise,” Steve said, voice lilting oddly like it was dripping with every ounce of self-deprecation that existed in the man.

“Steve, I really want to kiss you but I can’t move, help me out?”

It was Eddie’s turn to shock Steve then. He nearly laughed at the way Steve’s eyes widened impossibly further, eyebrows reaching as far up his forehead as they’d go. Even his lips parted at the statement, leaving him looking like he might combust if Eddie said another word. 

Then, all at once, Steve was rushing to his feet and leaning over the bed. Large hands were grabbing at either side of Eddie’s face and Steve’s lips were pressed to his own. He was gentle at first, hesitant to give Eddie time to back away from the move. When no such thing happened, Steve pressed harder, one hand moving further back to tangle in Eddie’s unruly hair. 

It was magical and impossible and absolutely glorious all at once. Eddie never wanted the kiss to stop, wanted to remain in this moment for however long the universe would allow him to.

He’d blame the breathlessness and the shock for what he said after.

“It’s November 7th. My birthday, it’s November 7th.”

Steve was still leaning over him, face so close Eddie had to go slightly cross-eyed to focus on him. The proximity allowed him to see every minute change in Steve’s face as the confusion set in, however. The little wrinkle between his eyebrows, the slight downturn to his lips as he thought about what Eddie had said.

“But...I gave the first one to you on the 5th. You knew I was getting your birthday wrong and it never upset you?”

Eddie shrugged a little. “It was close enough.”

“Well,” Steve started, laughing as he tossed the latest birthday card toward the end of the bed so he wouldn’t crush it as he leaned further onto the bed. “I’ll get it right this year, gorgeous, I promise.”

“You better, I’m looking forward to it,” Eddie teased through the burning feeling that washed over his cheeks. 

Their second kiss was somehow even better than the first, as magical as Eddie’d been dreaming about for years. 

TAGLIST: @alessiamargaux @minispice-1 @shadetea @emily19990 @alexxavicry @raven2008 @whoringrove @strangerleaves @blackpanzy @goodproofingwater @greetings-and-salutations @doralovesit @lesbianpinkhairedjughead @kerlypride @singmeyoursimpsong @im-sam-fucking-winchester @angel_wings_and_tattoos @itch-my-b0nez

taglist signup

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #wayne munson #stranger things fanfiction #harringroveson bingo #jay writes in theory

[viburnt]

Older brothers || Little things they do

Genre: Fluff

Type: Headcanons

Characters involved: Lucifer (Obey me!), Mammon (Obey me!), Leviathan (Obey me!)

Prompt: Little things they do to communicate with you.

Lucifer

• Lucifer is gifted when it comes to music, that is no secret. He adores his piano and takes great care of it.

• Part of him feels like he can express the feelings inside his chest better that way: sadness, anger, love; a key for each one of his emotions.

• One subtle thing he did, and that perhaps took you time to notice, was leaving the door of his studio open for you while he played.

• You'd walk by and listen, not coincidentally, to your favorite melody turned into a beautiful piano tune.

• Lucifer would notice you curiously peeking through the door and smile, pretending as if he hadn't seen you.

• The small sounds of amazement that escaped your mouth and the little claps you'd give to cheer on him were more than enough to make him happy.

• This demon also takes a look at your music playlist while you are not looking, so he can learn the scores.

• Piano is his way to say “I'm here for you, come closer.”

Mammon

• The second oldest has the soul of a crow trapped on his pretty little bubble head. He likes shiny and glittery things, valuable stuff; his sin is greed, after all.

• He hoards all kinds of items that catch his eye: Golden coins, silver jewelry, gemstones. Of course, it's a small loot, and he hides it very well from his brothers.

• Once he considers his treasure is worthy enough- it never is to his standards, but he tries – he puts it in a small cardboard box and leaves it on your bed.

• The first couple times it happened, you were a little confused. Mammon would only stammer something along the lines of “For you, dumb human” and leave, trying to- unsuccessfully- hide his flushed face.

• After a while, you started a small collection of the many things the demon gave you. It became a little game; you'd sort them out by color, size, and material.

• If you decide to wear a piece of jewelry from “Mammon's awesome treasure” (as he called it), he gets all goofy and dumb, boasting about it.

• If he notices you staring at an item a little too long at a store, he steals it buys it for you. He could be drowning in debt and still get you pretty gifts.

• Giving you shiny stuff is Mammon's way of saying “All of mine is yours too”. However, the meaning of his action also implies “No matter what, you are still more valuable than these things.”

Leviathan

• Leviathan, much like Mammon, can be qualified as a hoarder. The only difference between them would be, perhaps, that Levi tries to keep his stuff tidy and organized.

• We all know he is into anime and manga, so it's not uncommon for him to be reading or binge-watching his favorite series.

• A thing he does for you, even if it may seem like a burden to him, is that he always explains to you the plot of his anime. Like, he genuinely believes that if he manages to make you understand, you'll feel less weirded out by his weeabo self.

• It's not like his eagerness for these things bothers you, you find it kind of cute, but it'd be a lie to say that you understand what he talks about all the time.

• So you'd sit close to him, watching him read/watch his stuff in silence, and lean your head on his shoulder. Almost like a switch, he'd pause the episode or interrupt his lecture to tell you in great detail “How the protagonist sucks because he is overpowered”, etc.

• He felt closer to you that way, you were a haven for an introvert like him, so he'd really try to keep you around.

• Another thing he does is that, whenever you knock on his door to hang out in his room, he always takes a little longer to open. It's not because he is nervous about you visiting, he just freaks out because he doesn't want you to see his special merch. Wouldn't want you to think you are a creep.

• This is Leviathan's way to say “I care about you, please stay a while. I need you by my side.” He accommodates his hobbies so that you can fit on them with ease; better with you than to be alone.

Like my content? Comment and follow! The feedback encourages me.

#shall we date: obey me #obey me! #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #lucifer x reader #Spotify

[concerningwolves]

It is very disheartening how closed captions and subtitles are treated in games. It's certainly been getting better (i.e., since upgrading from ps3 to ps5 I have noticed that more modern games have wider accessibility options!), but I still find that there's certain things that the game makers simply don't consider worth adding captions for.

It's most noticeable with ""minor"" bits of speech outside of dialogue. I'm playing the Mass Effect: Legendary Edition rn, and there's never captions when your squad members say stuff like "perimeter clear" or whatever else it is they say – perimeter clear is the only one I've been able to parse so far. Which.... Feels like speech that would be useful to have captions for, you know? Same goes for battle catchphrases (I think Shepard says "eat shit" when throwing grenades, but idk for sure because there's no subs!). Before ME, I was playing Assassin's Creed: Valhalla, which has similar issues. The enemies' searching speech – phrases like "who's there?", "don't come any closer", "I think she's in the bushes" (and more that I can't parse) – also aren't subbed.

In some cases, the speech is probably considered non-essential, especially when there are other accessibility features like enemy proximity/awareness indicators, but I'd like to make that choice for myself! It's about the experience as much as the whole understanding what people are saying thing. I'd like to know what it is that Eivor says after eating mushrooms. I'd like to know what those little battle catchphrases are! Sure they're what a hearing person might not consider essential information, but they're still a part of the experience.

There are often mistakes or formatting in the text that makes me think nobody actually quality-checks or edits the subs. I have also never, ever played a game where changes in music are indicated like they are in film/TV. I don't just mean music that indicates you've attracted hostile attention or battle music (although pleasegod that would be good too), but really simple stuff like [exciting music starts] or [sad music] or w/e. AC: Valhalla had floating text that indicated noise and direction for "treasure" and "fire spreading", which delighted me bevause as basic and often unhelpful as it was, it was a big step I'd not seen taken before! I want to see more of that!

It just feels like subs are seen as something that's got to be added as an Accessibility Checklist Tick-Box, and not as something that could be an integral part of the gaming experience.

#accessibility #Subtitles

[howl-of-the-blood]

DANCE - OC KISS WEEK 23

I'm most likely not finishing this in time lol.

Pairing: Lalik x Mara [@stormbrightwriter]

Warnings: Smutty near the end

WC: 1193

With her fingers combing through the chestnut strands, Mara kept an eye on a little box hidden behind the door. Completely pointless, she reminded herself. Their room was a huge mess that could be considered a maze, battlefield and a treasure cove at the same time. On a list of Lalik’s priorities, tidiness was among the bottom three.

“What would you like?”, she asked him.

“You know me. The classic. My look. My signature style.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. How about a cornrow?”

“Wouldn't that take too much time?”

“Well,” Mara took a comb and separated the hair. “A double French braid would suffice. And we wouldn’t be late.”

“If it’s not too much of a bother.”

Lalik sat on the floor, perfectly calm, like a good boy they are. They were playing with a little cubic toy, constantly shifting and moving their shoulders. Mara slapped them several times to stop wiggling, but it was useless. Lalik solved the toy’s riddle many times, she noticed. In the meanwhile, she was telling him about her day at work, focused on her fingers gliding through their silky hair.

A gentle thought slowed down her fingers. I could do this for hours. 

Lalik was sitting on the floor and Mara placed herself on an old footstool. Among all that chaos that was Lalik’s room, traffic noises from the outside, semi-musical screeching of a tortured violin next door, there was peace. Covered in the dim light of a table lamp behind Mara’s shoulder, there were two of them, all dressed up, ready to hit the club. 

She was done. “Turn around, baby.”

Lalik did, with his big blue eyes practically glowing in curiosity. “And? How do I look?”

“As pretty as a peach. Take a look, sillyhead.”

Lalik jumped to their feet and checked themself out in the mirror. Two tidy long braids went down their back.

“Absolutely perfect!” 

They turned around. “You are awesome,” they exclaimed, leaning down to plant a small peck on Mara’s cheek. A friendly kiss ended, but she wasn’t satisfied; braiding such long hair takes time. She frowned and Lalik immediately looked worried. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. You will need to do something more to make it up to me.”

“I didn’t ask you to do it in the first pla—”

Mara placed a finger on their lips. “Shhhhhh. I have a gift for you.”

“O gif?” Words came out mumbled on both sides of Mara’s index finger.

With a sly smile, she nodded and took Lalik’s hand in her. Suspicious blue eyes were staring at her.

They are so tall but they look so much shorter than me. “Don’t worry, it’s not a prank. I’m not you. But… you need to do one thing for me.”

Lalik’s free hand went behind their head, cheeks blushing slightly. “O-oh, of course. Anything you like. You just need to ask.”

This silly boy. How do I always end up with guys like these? “I need you to dance that silly dance you saw on TikTok.” Not that I don’t enjoy them.

There was an amusing shift on Lalik’s face. Slight disappointment wrinkled their lips. They were expecting something entirely else. Mara almost giggled.

“Again?” they complained. “My thighs are hurting me.”

“Then there’s no gift for you.”

The next moment, with a popular melody in the air, Lalik was dancing, jumping, twirling like a ballerina, imitating the ridiculous dance she had seen once or twice. Laughter broke out of her. It was such a pure, almost childish feeling that filled her chest with glee. 

A gentle hand took hers. “Dance with me, Mara!”

She accepted, of course. How could she say no to a dance? Immediately her foot gets caught in a belt that was lying on the floor. She stumbled, losing her balance, but Lalik catched her. 

Such a cringe situation, really. She tripped, like a damsel in distress, and they caught her like a charming prince. Music was a whirlwind around them, upbeat and loud, silencing any other sounds their bodies might be making. 

And they are blushing again. With that pretty face and braids in their hair, they almost look like a teenager. A very tall one. A very awkward one.

“Can I get my gift now?” Lalik was hardly blinking, holding Mara’s hands in theirs almost painfully tight.

Mara smiled, briefly. “Of course. Don’t move”

As soon as she went to the other side of the room, Lalik bit their fist, screaming silently. They straightened their back when the sound of Mara’s slippers came closer again. In her beautiful hands there was a small box. The wrapping paper was simple and blue. Sorry I’m late ^^’, was written on a pink sticky note, glued on top. Lalik ripped the paper. Inside was a Galadriel funko pop.

“And?” Mara was shaking her head, expecting their reaction.

Lalik didn’t say anything for a solid minute. “You remembered? That I was missing only her.”

“You sillyhead! Of course I did. You told me tha—”

“Can I kiss you?” Lalik’s cheeks were quickly losing colour from warm pink to pale green to bone white. “I mean… What would Cal say? I mean what do you say, because I know Cal is fine with it, but I mean… I’m not sure but—” 

Luckily, Mara grew impatient. She grabbed their braids and pulled them down. Lalik gasped in surprise, but quickly lost their breath when Mara pressed her lips on theirs. Her palms slid to Lalik’s neck and jaw pulling them even closer. They moaned into her mouth, which was still innocently barely opened, but already sweetly moist.

Lalik’s body melted like a candle, enveloping Mara. They hugged her tightly, wishing they had more arms to do it. To hold all of her, forever. It was so nice to hug her. And her lips… her lips were…

They bit her lower lip, maybe a bit too hard. They were unable to control themself when her lips were so soft. Lalik licked them - so delicious! And Mara smiled, breaking the kiss.

“Cal will be fine with this. But right now we’re gonna be late for the party and they are expecting us.” Mara started checking herself in the mirror, fixing her red hair.

“Ah, right...” Lalik frowned, slightly dazed. “You know, I can slow down the time.”

Mara looked at them and a smirk tugged the corner of her lips.

“Oh? And why would you do that?”

Lalik’s voice changed, grew, hardened. “To kiss you again.” Lalik took one step closer. “And again.” And another. “And again.” And another. “And again. Until… Until…”

Lalik was in front of her and this time really tall. Even though they couldn't finish their sentence, they appeared more determined, focused. Mara placed her hands on her hips, eying the pretty boy in front of her from top to bottom, noticing their pants making a familiar shape on their crotch. Mara’s glossy dark lips pouted and a dangerous shadow fell over her eyes.

“Oh, sillyhead, let me help you.” She placed her hand on their shaft pushed helplessly almost all the way up to their navel. “Until I say it's enough.”

#romance #writing #am writing #writeblr #ockiss23 #kainabluewrites #oc:lalik #lalikxmara #hotb:au #howloftheblood #hotb

[rereadanon]

✨ Ficlet Friday✨

Hello all you lovely humans and back to the extremely erratic and sporadic Ficlet Friday series!

Please consider this my holiday gift to you all, all you amazing creators that have kept me fed and distracted from real life all year- I am so eternally grateful and impressed by the incredible talent in this fandom!

As always, major thanks to @gallawitchxx for the encouragement, friendship, and beta!

Read under the cut or here on AO3!

🎁 xmas surprise 🎁

Ian pushes through the front door to their apartment, Mickey hot on his heels, exhaustion and overstimulation set deep in their bones. They drop the bags of newly opened Christmas gifts by the door and sling their big, winter coats over the dining chairs. They both head for the couch, Mickey dropping down with a heavy sigh and running his hand through his hair.

“Damn man, it feels like it gets crazier every year.” 

Ian gets up to get them some beers from the fridge.

“Yeah,” he says, “Freddie, Franny and the baby get so hyper, it’s crazy," he sits quietly for a beat before adding, "hey, you did a great job with Franny’s gift by the way, you always know exactly what to get her to make Debbie super jealous.” 

“That’s cuz she’s a little badass, like me,” Mickey replies.

“Oh, like you huh? You’re a little badass?”

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

“Yeah, I do.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, unwinding from the ever-growing Gallagher party insanity. 

“Hey, I got you something,” Ian says. 

Mickey immediately rolls his eyes, “we said no gifts, Red. Knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.”

“Yeah, so fuck me, I like shopping for you. Plus, you can pack this in your bag for Hawaii next month, we can have a little extra fun.” He nudges his husband and then reaches under the couch to pull out the box. Black, with a perfect red bow. 

He hands it over and the excitement grows as he watches Mickey open his gift with little hesitation. 

“Whaaaaat the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey says as he picks up the leather vest Ian purchased him. “Is this real leather?”

“There’s more,” Ian says, ignoring his question. 

Mickey pulls back more tissue to reveal a matching leather jock. 

“Fuck, Ian, you tryin to turn me into a leather daddy, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that Mick,” he says and smiles. He knows his husband well. 

Mickey runs his hand over the stitching of the vest, smiling to himself. 

“I can already see the look on your face when you see me in this, man.”

“Try it on, make sure it fits.” 

Mickey puts it on over his long sleeve henley, and it’s snug just the right amount. A classic bar vest, it is worn open, the edge just where Mickey’s nipples are, so his gorgeous torso will be on full display. Ian can feel the warmth pool in his lap already. 

“Well, just so happens I have something for you too, lover. Thought it might be good for the trip, too”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t get too excited though,” Mickey walks into their bedroom to retrieve his homemade gift, returning with a small booklet, which he hands to Ian. 

On the front, in block letters, Mickey has drawn “IAN’S FUCK COUPONS,” along with two stick figures that are doing it doggie style.

Ian flips through the book, treasuring the small, but meaningful, gesture from his husband. 

“Are these to be used for the trip exclusively or could I cash one in now?” Ian side eyes Mickey when he lands on a specific page - good for one lap dance.

Mickey groans, “Really, Red? Weren’t we just talking about how exhausted we are?”

“That was before I saw you try on the vest!”

Mickey chuckles quietly, proud of the effect he so clearly has on his partner. 

“Alright, gimme a minute, find me some good music,”

Ian quickly pulls out his phone and opens Spotify, while Mickey heads to the bedroom. Not a minute later, Mickey is back, walking toward Ian with sexual confidence exuding from him and lighting Ian on fire. 

“Damn,” is all that escapes from Ian’s mouth. “You’re fucking hot.” 

“Mmm, I know,” Mickey says through a rightfully cocky grin. He stands in front of his fire-haired husband and pointing his K finger, issues a warning.

“If you get drunk and tell Lip about this, I will end you.”

Ian smiles and grabs the sides of the vest, pulling Mickey towards him until he is straddling his lap, and their bodies are flush together.

“Never,” Ian says with his most serious Dom top daddy tone, “this is just for us, baby.”

#ficlet friday #happy new year! #jockstrap!mickey #shameless fanfiction #thanks to the amazing Bee!

[trivalentlinks]

ask game: aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life? papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with? [honestly, reroll as needed <3] abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

Hello friend! <3

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

(Copied from where I answered this here.)

Close platonic friendships. Especially long-standing ones. My partner is my best friend and I love him and he’s wonderful, but it’s not the same, you know? He has a couple friends he talks to and plays video games with a few times a week (not for very long each time, but enough to catch up), and yeah, I get a little envious.

He went to school with these guys from age six to the end of high school, so he did have the advantage of living in the same small town until college, but I don’t think this is the only reason. I think it’s more that I just don’t really know how to maintain long distance friendships? Like, I did make friends in high school and college, but we fell out of touch for the most part. We call each other maybe once or twice a year now, if at all.

On a more light-hearted note: Pets! I really want a pet cat. Never had a pet, always adored little furry animals. I’m hoping I’ll be able to get one soon, since I’ll be settling somewhere more permanent.

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with? [honestly, reroll as needed <;3]

Sadly, the answer is probably the good ol' four minutes, thirty-three seconds. (I.e. no music.)

I don't really have a general playlist. I didn't grow up listening to music really--we didn't have anything that played music at home. When I'm working, I sometimes wear headphones, but without playing anything. Usually it's because I watched a video at some point earlier and forgot I was wearing them. Or because I don't want people to talk to me.

Sometimes when I'm having difficulty concentrating, I'll put on one of those "deep focus music for concentration" videos on youtube, but I've been doing that less since they started having more ads.

I do have a playlist for when I write Leverage fic, but it mostly consists of every Quinn + Eliot fanvid on youtube, plus a fanvid that I cooked up myself that's just goes through the Quinn+Eliot art I commissioned played over the song Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf.

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

(Copied from where I answered it here.)

The first part no, but the second part, unfortunately, yes, in fact most of my jewelry.

I generally don't wear jewelry when I go out--can't actually remember the last time I did, possibly for a high school dance?

But when I go to a department store, I love to go look at all shiny jewelry and admire how much they shimmer in the light. And when I went with a parent, sometimes they'd be like, "you seem to like that $5 jewelry set, I'll get it for you", which they did because I was very hard to shop for and generally didn't like things.

And I did (and do) like the jewelry. I just... never really think to wear any.

Though sometimes as a kid I would put all of my jewelry on at once and pretend to be a treasure hunter/pirate who just found a pile of treasure. Think this:

(And sometimes when I consider getting rid of my little box of jewelry, I still just look at it and go. Hm. We could get rid of this. Or we could… see picture above.)

-

Thank you so much for asking! <3 <3 <3

#ask game #mention of leverage

[seasideselfships]

Howdy Maverick! I read your Carrd and it seems we've got a lot of things in common like a love for space (and maybe the ocean??? I love your url name and also your names!!) and a couple of f/os who share the same media, so please know I'd be so thrilled to have you in my Ask box and talk about them if you'd like!

Some I noticed were your T//V//D f/os and Avengers f/os-- it makes me so happy to know you also do domestic ave.ngers please I'd love our s/is to be friends (maybe Max is able to learn some things from Xiomara and also vice versa? Whiplash went to Xavier's since she's a mutant--- did Syntax? Maybe they met there and could be assigned together? Idk but it's all fun to me!) for both media tell me all about yours anytime ;----;

Anyway, I wanted to also send these asks for different f/os and invite you to gush or talk about any of them in my Ask box too! (Also i love the different FOB lyrics i found looking through your Carrd, they're my favorite band!!!)

👍The Good Part👍 ~ What moment made you realize that you had to be with your F/O? For the Lo.st Bo.ys! (Love that your s/i is from key west btw I LOVE key west it's the only good place in Florida besides the space Center/LH)

🌃Chelsea Streets🌃 ~ If you could go anywhere, where would you and your F/O wanna vacation at? How would it go? With the Johnathan & the rest of the Byers fam + Hopper? Like a big family trip?

🎶Overture🎶 ~ Tell us a few of your favorite/most important memories involving your F/O! With Stefan?

Moxie @tex-treasures

Again, my ask box is always open so please feel free to stop on by anytime!✨💜

Howdy Moxie!! You guess correctly, I do have an odd fascination with the ocean, hence the 'seasideselfships' user!! Great observation!  Domestic av.engers is 10/10 my comfort ship, to go back to when I need Soft Vibes. It's so fun to be a big ol found family!! As far as s/is, I would love for them to be friends, please-

Max and Xiomara would be such fun friends! I read a little of your s/i write-up, and I feel they'd get along swimmingly! They'd definitely have a bit to learn from each other, and I think they'd have fun teaching each other, maybe over tea!  And as far as Syntax, I play fast and loose with her story, so it wouldn't be much to move her to Xavier's!! She's been my ma.rvel and all related stuff s/i for ages and I kind of edit her backstory to fit her where I fit her. Would be very fitting though to add Xavier's to her timeline since I went back + rewatched the first couple movies + got Major Sibling Vibes from Charles - And yes FOB!!! There's mainly fob, a few p! ones and one or two mcr ones, bc I haven't grown out of my emo phase and I still love all that music, but I vibe super heavy with FOB so they got the honor of being most of my tags-

Now that I have successfully rambled a mile of stuff, on to answer questions! 👍The Good Part👍 ~ What moment made you realize that you had to be with your F/O?  For the Lo.st Bo.ys!  - I think the defining moment would be one night on the boardwalk, the boys stood up for Marina. As someone who had to hide what she was from her friends on shore in Key West, she was always afraid that revealing who she was would scare people away. And even knowing the boys weren't human, she was still wary. You never know how people will react. But one night she was alone before they got to the boardwalk, and they found her getting harassed by some ner-do-wells and scared them off. That was proof to Marina that they cared. 

🌃Chelsea Streets🌃 ~ If you could go anywhere, where would you and your F/O wanna vacation at? How would it go? With the Johnathan & the rest of the Byers fam + Hopper? Like a big family trip? Byers Hopper clan road trip? Oh boy. We'd probably embark on a massive camping trip, I wanna say north Michigan. Considering I'm familiar, it'd be super fun. Platte River Campground. I've got no clue if it was around in the 80s, but that's a great place for the fam to camp + see all the sights north Michigan has to offer, like porcupine mountain, the lake in the sky, and of course the bridge. 

🎶Overture🎶 ~ Tell us a few of your favorite/most important memories involving your F/O! With Stefan? OH boy... Even if it had alterior motives, the Mi.kaelson Ball! It was so fun. Getting dressed up, fancy party style. Dancing with Stefan, swoon.  A funnier memory is Stefan giving her the "I'm a vampire" speech and Max laughing and telling him she had a feeling, which leads to a conversation about her abilities. 

@tex-treasures thanks for the ask!!!!

#stocking the shelves #tex-treasures #♡ || check into the hotel bella muerte #s/i || marina #♡ || all was golden in the sky #♞ || a wise man once said #♞ || mother of the year #♞ || father of the year #s/i || margaret #♡ || falling apart to half time #s/i || maxine

[silentmeteorite93]

The Leaping Gazelles 28/34

Music

This time the woman was still eccentric, unlike the previous experiencers who only wanted to go through the formality of experiencing this niche and mysterious culture safely and simply, she was unusually precise about her preferences, so her requests were even specific enough to make her seem like a seasoned hobbyist. Men have always appreciated people with clear goals and strong plans, so the self-proclaimed scientific far-left theorist didn't question many of the woman's strange metaphysical ideas.

He drove her to what he considered to be a very quiet hotel as per the woman's request and did his best to set up the environment in such a way that there were no unwanted noises, as the woman described it. Her curvaceous body was revealed under a hip-hugging dress, and her modest but healthy lace underwear was exposed to match her heels and stockings. She gathered her long hair and looked directly at the man, her mouth slightly open, containing her own claim to be unrivalled in her ability to be pampered. Slightly restrained on the soft side of the bed, she sat obediently on the edge of the bed, slowly closing her eyes tightly and refusing to ever open them again. The behavior didn't mean nervousness or fear, but as she said herself letting the voice be the only message that could enter her heart. The woman had a long, solid-tinted dress, her beautiful collarbone resting squarely in place, the material of the dress seeming to be transparent and slightly reflective. It was just as if it had wings hidden under the dress, and the moment it spread its wings was bound to be mesmerizing. The man was glad that not many people had seen it, and neither had the woman.

He pulled the woman into his arms and helped her remove all of her clothes, there weren't a lot of very well-behaved people throughout the process, but a woman who was as undisturbed a doll as she was certainly something the man found very refreshing. The woman was still impassive as the rough twine cut across and imprisoned her delicate skin, and the man's intentional and unintentional finger touches to sensitive areas and rough gasps against the neck and behind the ears during the bondage process didn't get any strong feedback either. But just as the woman had said, the moment the blindfold was put on, the man could detect the woman's snorting begin to intensify and her body begin to sway. It seemed that the seeming candlelight from earlier was still interfering with the woman's senses. For the same sensation, the man also switched off the light, and the moment the interior light was switched off, a portion of the heat on his skin also disappeared in an instant.

In the man's words the woman's argument was that the world bombarded the poor man like an information overload, so the blindfold was not restricting her, but rather unsealing her. The man wasn't so sensitive to sound, so he just assumed that the woman's mind at the moment was in the pure information analysis mode of the matrix, efficient and straightforward. He was rarely at a loss for words, feeling like he'd entered a lab being visited unannounced for an experiment he hadn't prepared for, and although the woman had expressed several sound preferences but not as blunt as the kind that hated vibrating props, the preferences the woman spoke of were apparently a little hard to mimic for this box of ferocious weaponry. After a few short attempts, the man found no positive feedback coming from the sound of the loose and long whips swinging through the air or the red marks hitting the woman's body and seeing that half of the regular props in the treasure chest had already been used, the man picked up the spiked wheel in a somewhat desperate attempt. As expected, the strange sound effect of the nail wheel turning must have attracted the attention of the woman in the bed who only had hearing left, and she finally shuddered the moment the cold and sharp nail wheel touched the woman's skin. The man began to run the nail wheel over the woman's body, he even wrote a couple of frivolous nicknames behind her back, and as the woman's long overdue reaction in the man's mind densified, the man deliberately and without gentleness kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed.

He moved slowly across the bed, the soft mattress undulating under the man's weight, which caused the woman to float in the waves like a helpless boat. He got down and began to lick up the woman's ears, feeling her involuntary squirming beneath him as the man grabbed the ropes around her and flipped her into a front facing position. The twine that had just been pulled by the man went deeper outlining the woman's delicate figure also embedding slightly flushed flesh at the same time as the man got out of bed and pulled out a secret weapon that had been specially upgraded for the day.

As soon as the new bell combination came out, its identity was completely exposed to the woman's ears. The man put the collar and nipple clamps on the woman before lifting her legs up, placing his own knees under her hips which were already completely suspended in the air and pulling her ankles in front of himself to attach another set of anklets to each one of them, a set of bells that were as delicate and sensitive as the woman was now but not raucous or shrill. The next moment the man noticed that the woman who had been silent had turned out to be already muddy as well, he deliberately sniffled twice in the air, and instead of reaching for the crudely straight props he looked to the seldom seen quill.

As the bells gradually began to ring, the woman began to muffle and occasionally moan as if she was actually being continuously stimulated in a sensitive area, and the amazing sight in front of him was an eye-opener for the man and even a little bit out of place. It could be the presence of the bells repeatedly reminding the woman that her legs were raised and spread apart, it could be the nipple clamps hanging from her nipples again indicating her excitement and sensitivity, it could be the collar around her neck again symbolizing her passivity, in any case the woman's feedback began to satisfy the man. He guided the woman to her knees on her stomach, not choosing to hold the chains but instead ringing the last accessory of the bell set, the woman crawled to the man's feet listening to the ringing of the bells, although she was still unaware of it yet she must have inwardly looked forward to the pleasures that would come from this last piece of the puzzle.

Just like that, the woman listened to the sound of the man's bare feet walking on the carpet to crawl exactly to his feet, the submissive and clingy gesture reminded the man of the cat he had had before, especially with the tail that was just worn standing up. This new style of tail could not only stand up but also the rare double insertion style, with two additional ingenious bells at the top that would make a sound with even the slightest movement. At this moment the sound in the visual normal man's ears also still become a hint of alien, is the tunnel of the empty, is the two of them deep in the universe of this stage in the center. The familiar touch and exclusive shape of the mouth was a hook in the mouth of a fish in a shallow pool, and the man lustfully backed away occasionally so that the woman had to stagger on her knees to catch up. The rounded hips that quivered slightly as they crawled made one defy the gravity of the moment and praise it. The man sat back in his chair watching the well-behaved white cat expressing obedience to himself accompanied by a melodious voice, he bestowed his hand on the woman and just watched in silence as she transformed from the aloof, literary young woman she had been when they first met to the one who was now licking her fingers with abandon. The man knew now that if he made a sound of unzipping, the out-of-control woman in front of him would pounce and make even louder sucking and swallowing noises, and thankfully he decided to stick to the principle of asexuality. The bell gradually catalyzed her more complete degradation and slowly the sucking sounds began to play in ensemble with the bell. He began to tweak the pendulous nipple clamps as he leaned over and guided her around with the hand in the woman's mouth. The woman also thoughtfully went from curved arms to straight arms propped up on the ground, just like a cat would do, sending the comfortably stroked position towards the human hand. Likewise, as the man began to tweak the towering tail, the woman was even more unashamed to aim her most private parts at the man still deliberately shaking them and letting out an involuntary snorting moan. Closing her eyes, she saw the man more clearly in her mind's eye. His voice in the darkness rang out so abruptly and so close, the prop that had been fiddling in the distance just moments ago now appeared spurting hot snorts into her ears. The woman still had a smirk on her face as she pondered if he needed to bend over to achieve such an effect.

The blind man had to keep performing because he couldn't receive feedback and it never ended. The only way to break out of one's passive situation was to never stop and grab back the initiative. She felt the man blocking the moonlight in front of her, the image of the man so tall that she felt like she was being shrunk, she began to unconsciously raise her head slowly closing her eyes to look up. The darkness closed off her vision as well as intensified her other senses, and in the pitch black space each caress was tentative and hostile, eating away at the man's patience and goodwill.

The man placed his hand on the woman with a slight pressure, and before the woman could understand why the man signalled for her to stop, the man quickly pulled off the tail that had merged with the woman's. The sudden turn of events caused the woman to fall helplessly to her knees, so that the angle of her private parts and rear end were even more exposed to the man's eyes. Unlike the hilarious lewdness of a moment ago, only the woman's gasps were most noticeable in the air now. Breaking the silence was the sound of the man's fingers entering the woman's private parts, and under the man's deliberate control, the woman's most embarrassing position surprisingly made a rather unsettling sound. The not-so-loud sound effects told too much of a story, the sticky sounds and wet tones killing even a determined man, not to mention the excellent night vision that allowed him to take in the view in front of him from start to finish. After a brief moment of disorientation, the woman's mesmerized cry broke the clever atmosphere. The man's hands were not idle, his forefinger and middle finger gently rubbing and vigorously manipulating the woman's engorged inner wall protrusions, his thumb also smoothly squeezing into the layers of the sandwich's center of the flower under the excessive lubrication, rubbing carefully and gently, and his foot would occasionally tease the bobbing clamps of the nipples. The man seemed to be very busy, but in fact all he could think of was that the AMSR career of the woman in front of him was indeed suitable for people like her who believed that hearing was more important than other senses, and he had also listened to the audio produced by the woman which was similar to the cosmic energy and hypnosis, although he was skeptical about these, but if the soulful cries that the woman was making right now were to be recorded, then he himself would surely enjoy it over and over again! The man was not sure how many times the woman's voice had been heard.

For the umpteenth time, the man stopped his hand movements after the distinct contrast of the woman's voice from trough to peak, his arms tingling and aching, he was just about to sigh at his own selflessness when he was struck by the woman's struggle to get up from the floor and clean his fingers with her mouth. There were too many kinds of pleasure in the world that were nothing less than squirting, and many of them brought not emptiness but aftertaste. The tentacles dangling at his mouth were holy and prickly in the moonlight's stealthy care, and that was the beauty of development and conditioning, or the aesthetics of breaking the rules and then reestablishing the system.

After the woman left he opened the window and let the cold air leave scratches on his skin, grateful for his restraint and honored to draw pleasure from it. It wasn't clear if he had changed playmates to please, or if he had changed playmates to please himself. He looked forward to the next exhaustion, the next collision of souls.

#poem #writers #books & libraries #writing

[pawnsilverflorida]

Six Things You Need to Consider When Shopping at a Pawn Shop for the First Time

Pawn Shop Long Island have become a popular place to save substantial amounts on high-quality items. You can get jewelry, home electronics and tools for as low as 30% to 60% off than the price at "Big Box" stores.

What should a savvy shopper know about pawn shops before they embark on their first shopping trip?

1) Before you visit the pawnshop, do they have an active Internet presence? An excellent indicator of a high-quality shop is a well-maintained website that provides useful information. Is there an online shop? This allows you to view the entire selection before you visit the shop.

2) Do you get greeted by the staff as soon as your walk through the doors? It is important to make a first impression in almost everything. If you receive a friendly acknowledgment as soon as you enter the store, it's an indication that the staff is customer-focused.

3) Is there anyone else in the shop shopping for loans or buying pawns? Although every pawn shop will have the occasional "Down Time", it is always good to see other customers in the store. Do you ever see another person after two visits? You can drive by the pawn shop several times without seeing a car in its parking lot. This could indicate that the pawnshop is not focused on the community or their customers.

4) Is the shop clean and organized? This is something that many people consider a top priority when shopping at pawn shops. While a store may get messy from an influx of customers suddenly, pawn shops that are first-class maintain a high standard of cleanliness.

5) Is there a lot of merchandise on the floor and shelves of the showroom? This is a positive sign. A store with a lot of merchandise is a sign that it is active and well-respected in the local community. Contrary to popular belief a significant number of items on sale are not from defaulted Pawn Loans. Many people view the local shop as an easy way to make cash out of unwanted items by selling them.

6) This last item may seem unusual, but does the pawnshop have a good feeling? Do you see a lot smiles on the faces of the staff? Are you able to hear customers laughing and saying things like "Wow, I want one of those …(Insert product name here !)… For years! Pawn shops should be fun. These shops offer a great opportunity to find rare, unusual and even "Funky", treasures for very little money. Are you a collector of many things you love, but you are worried about what people might think if you displayed a complete collection of brass animals with musical instruments? It sounds like you have found a great pawn shop.

#Pawn Shops Near Me #Online Pawn Shop #Gem Pawn Brokers Brooklyn #Pawn Shops Nyc #Pawn Shop Online #Pawn Jewelry #Pawn Necklaces #Pawn Gold #Pawn Silver #Pawn Shop Brooklyn #Pawn Electronics #Pawn Shop Melville #Pawn Shop Long Island #Pawn Shop Fordham #Collateral Business Loans

[collateralloansmargate]

Six Things You Need to Consider When Shopping at a Pawn Shop for the First Time

Pawn shops have become a popular place to save substantial amounts on high-quality items. You can get jewelry, home electronics and tools for as low as 30% to 60% off than the price at "Big Box" stores.

What should a savvy shopper know about pawn shops before they embark on their first shopping trip?

1) Before you visit the pawnshop, do they have an active Internet presence? An excellent indicator of a high-quality shop is a well-maintained website that provides useful information. Is there an online shop? This allows you to view the entire selection before you visit the shop.

2) Do you get greeted by the staff as soon as your walk through the doors? It is important to make a first impression in almost everything. If you receive a friendly acknowledgment as soon as you enter the store, it's an indication that the staff is customer-focused.

3) Is there anyone else in the shop shopping for loans or buying pawns? Although every Pawn Necklaces will have the occasional "Down Time", it is always good to see other customers in the store. Do you ever see another person after two visits? You can drive by the pawn shop several times without seeing a car in its parking lot. This could indicate that the pawnshop is not focused on the community or their customers.

4) Is the shop clean and organized? This is something that many people consider a top priority when shopping at pawn shops. While a store may get messy from an influx of customers suddenly, pawn shops that are first-class maintain a high standard of cleanliness.

5) Is there a lot of merchandise on the floor and shelves of the showroom? This is a positive sign. A store with a lot of merchandise is a sign that it is active and well-respected in the local community. Contrary to popular belief a significant number of items on sale are not from defaulted Pawn Loans. Many people view the local shop as an easy way to make cash out of unwanted items by selling them.

6) This last item may seem unusual, but does the pawnshop have a good feeling? Do you see a lot smiles on the faces of the staff? Are you able to hear customers laughing and saying things like "Wow, I want one of those ...(Insert product name here !)... For years! Pawn shops should be fun. These shops offer a great opportunity to find rare, unusual and even "Funky", treasures for very little money. Are you a collector of many things you love, but you are worried about what people might think if you displayed a complete collection of brass animals with musical instruments? It sounds like you have found a great pawn shop.

#Pawn Shops Near Me #Pawn Gold #Pawn Jewelry #Pawn Shops Nyc

[sysig]

I made a new Prince, she’s very elegant

#Doodles #Princesona #Halfsies Caden and halfsies the new Prince who of course - true to form - doesn't have a name lol #She will eventually probably maybe #Until then - back to Caden lol #I thought it'd be fun to have yet another sona crossover #A crossona-ver? No lol #But like a little music box could be considered a treasure? Maybe? It's not a lamp but that's fine #I forget what exactly inspired the hat one but I got the image in my head of bright light and a hat so #Hat time #And then the rest are the new Prince hm hrm #Basically I just wanted to make like an elegant mentor/interested bystander yeah? #The youngest and newest(?) Prince would definitely catch some attention #I'll probably make some character to fulfill the ''This isn't how things are done >:0'' archetype later lol #But yeah she's just kind of an older pretty well established Prince who's curious is all #The tiered braids are fun

[moonchildstyles]

gravity

gravity part one: (y/n) hated physics while harry loved it, but both of them have a couple of secrets.

wordcount: 13k+

—————

College sucks.

(Y/N) knew that from the second she had to pay for books that should have been provided given the extravagant amount she paid in tuition. Her viewpoint was only reaffirmed when she attended lectures for mandatory courses that had nothing to do with her major, with professors who didn't care whether or not she was comprehending the material. All she was really doing here was getting a fancy piece of paper with a seal on it in hopes of being taken seriously when looking for a job.

It only sucked worse when she felt like she was failing, and barely saw the roommate that had promised to keep her sane through the entire experience.

That was how (Y/N) found herself drunk and alone on a Friday night.

To be fair, she was having a lot more fun than she would have thought considering she was not a talented bartender and the vodka cranberry she messily mixed in her kitchen tasted of sweetened rubbing alcohol at first sip.

Loud music was blaring through the apartment (or at least as loud as she knew she could get away with, considering her neighbors weren't too keen on the college experience), with every door left wide open throughout the space. The apartment felt bigger through her hooded vision, her clumsy choreography feeling like a grandiose production with the make-believe partner she conjured out of the Ariana Grande lyrics that floated throughout every room.

It was only when she remembered she was alone that she wished so badly there was someone with her. Someone to hold her like Ariana described, to kiss and touch over her body in loving runs. That was when the fog in her mind took on a rosied tint, a yearning feeling aching to trace out the form of another.

She blamed it on the alcohol, and the fact she had been single for far too long. Since she was alone—something she had started the night grateful for—she became a little too aware of the lusted shift her thoughts were taking and how much she wished she had someone else there to relieve the ache that was sparking between her thighs. (This happened often when she drank. She was a loving and affectionate drunk, making the absence of another glaringly obvious to her).

(Y/N) didn't have even half the mind to be embarrassed as she dug around for her laptop in her room, too preoccupied by the tipsy lens she was seeing the world through, and the longing that had settled in her stomach. After finding her treasure, she settled herself on the wrinkled mess that was her bedding, and opened a familiar browser. It was a little too instinctive as she typed in the familiar website, but she couldn't find it in her to care when the lazy thoughts floating through her mind were urging her to find any kind of release.

That was how she found herself on a cam-site.

Truly, it had been a slip of the finger. All she had tried to do was click on the minuscule 'x' tacked in the corner of a shady pop-up ad on a much more legit site, but her lagging response time made it that much harder to react before she was being directed to a completely different site.

This one lacked the typically dark grey and black shading that other explicit sites utilized. This one used a green based layout, leaving the attention to be placed on the rows and rows of thumbnails dotting her screen. Across the main page, the site boasted a channel of over fifty-thousand different performers, making it easy to find something 'to your liking'. The small boxes that filled out the screen displayed different people in various states of undress (or in outfits (Y/N) wasn't aware were made in real life), some with their faces cut out of frame and others feeling no need to hide their identity. They were all stilled into a single scene from their 'stream', as it was labeled under the tile, some performing acts that she hadn't known were physically possible. Once she realized what it was that she had been loaded onto, she pulled back with a gasp.

She had never been on a cam-site before; the idea of paying a stranger to get off on camera while she lurked on the other side with complete anonymity felt a bit too sleazy to make her comfortable or turned on. Fully intending to backpedal onto the familiar site she had accidentally left, (Y/N) barely swept her lagging eyes over the expanse of the site, her fingertips lazily tracing over the touchpad to take her back.

Until she saw one tile of a person just sitting there.

It was a short view of a man's chest, the frame cutting off at his neck to give the full of the attention to his seated body with his torso the main focus. He was sat in something that emulated the office chair that she had pushed into her desk in her room, nothing especially pornographic about the set up; even the dimmed lights in the background denoted nothing other than a quiet night in. He wasn't undressed as far as she could tell from the pixelated view she was given into his video. A gauzy button-up was stretched across the broad of his shoulders, the fabric thin and left unbuttoned enough to show a pair of birds tattooed below his collarbones and something that could either be a butterfly or an octopus on his tummy given the quality of the thumbnail. He even had his pants on.

More than anything, the lack of lewd acts and scandalous dressing made her curious. Maybe it wasn't required that you do anything explicitly sexual during your stream.

Her decision tasted like cranberries saturated in vodka as she rerouted her finger on the touchpad and instead tapped on the username that was spelled out under the tile. It only took a second before his profile popped up. The page shared the same layout as the main site; a plain sage green base backing the much more customized personal page that displayed his information.

His screen name—treatpeoplewkisses—was highlighted in a golden yellow across the top. The details of his profile generated underneath. Most of the categories were left vague; only a country filling in his location, and a single letter (H) giving him a name. What looked to be a screenshot or a still from one of his videos acted as his profile picture, the setting similar to what she saw as he was sat in his dimly lit base with a barely buttoned top on with the black of his tattoos shining through the fabric. A green dot beside his user confirmed that he was online. A stream of posts made up the rest of his page, the most recent status making a claim that he was LIVE NOW! with a bright pink link that had been shared a little over ten minutes ago.

(Y/N) felt a pit in her tummy as she pressed the link. Something like guilt blinked through the vodka-induced haze, feeling odd to be viewing someone so intimately while she didn't have to share a thing. But, she reasoned with herself, if that wasn't something he was comfortable with, he wouldn't be on this site. Besides, as far as she could tell, he wasn't doing anything like his counterparts on the site, so she might not be seeing anything explicit anyway.

Nevertheless, she didn't stop as the screen loaded, directing her to the stream she had only gotten a glimpse of on the start page. Her laptop filled out to a new setup with the main video displayed in the center with the boy she had seen still sitting in his comfortably lit room and his ethereally thin top. Beside the video was a chat stream, where all comments were shown in response to anything he said or did. A thermometer-like bar was plastered on the other side, displaying how much money he had already made that night with a goal tacked to the top of the bar. In the ten minutes since he had gone live, he had already made a hundred dollars with the promise of more coming in if the range of comments had anything to do with it.

His—H's—throat bobbed around words she couldn't hear with gentle expansions of his chest under his shirt as he breathed, nothing at all like the wild extremes that had been sandwiched around him on the main page. She worked on something like autopilot as she turned up the volume on her laptop, wanting to know what was getting the comments flooding in faster than she could catch.

Maybe it was the alcohol-induced lag going on in her head, but all (Y/N) could register for a moment was how deep and inviting his tone was as it washed over her. He had drawn her in in a matter of seconds.

He seemed to be responding to comments, though the tone he used made it feel like he was talking to only her; answering questions she had forgotten she asked and responding to compliments she wordlessly gave. He was good at what he was doing. Even without his face in the shot, it felt like he was speaking only to her, as if there wasn't a hoard of comments streaming through at every pause

"'M happy you're having a good night, darling. Thank you for letting me be a part of it."

He spoke low and slow enough for her to register through the haze in her mind, the words dripping over her like honey. What kind of dreamboat was this? And how did he exist on a site like this?

No matter whatever direction this stream took, she was sure actors of any kind wished they could procure a relationship like this with viewers; something personal enough to keep them coming back for more no matter the content.

(Y/N) leaned in, listening intently as H let out a breathy laugh that filtered through her speakers, the sound deep and rich like the rest of him. She could only imagine the kind of smile that stretched across his lips in conjunction with the sound. She wished she knew what the color of his lips were.

"Is that what the mood for tonight is? Well, I won't keep y'waiting, I know it's been a long week, love."

Her eyes only widened as he joined in on the tradition of the site he was registered on, making a slow show of unbuttoning the remaining bindings on his top and revealing the full of his chest to the camera. All the while, he entertained comments and kept her listening while her eyes were fixed to the fluid and comfortable motions he made over his body.

It was that easy to get her hooked.

She couldn't—and didn't want to—find any will to exit from the stream, even when he progressed to taking the stripping up another level by taking off his pants. She was transfixed on him and his ability to make the entire experience much too personal considering the nature of the transaction. It was effortless how he drew her in, doing nothing other than using the body of his voice and indulging in his own pleasure.

And, god, he was just hot.

His voice was entirely too warm to be that of a stranger she had never met and she'd never have the opportunity to hear in person. He touched over his body with the assurance that no matter what he did, it wasn't only for him, that he knew exactly how much his viewer liked it and he would make sure he wasn't the only one feeling good in the experience. The cherry on top was the fact that in that first stream, as if she wasn't already a sucker for him, he called himself daddy. He moaned around the honorific, teasing and beckoning her in to join him in his scene and to help him work his cock and take all he had to give her.

She knew she would be coming back when he ended the stream, chest a flushed red and his hand wrapped in a towel as he cleaned himself up, with a declaration of affection: "I adore you." He didn't log off until he requested for his viewers to wait for him, as if she had any plans otherwise at that point.

He was intoxicating in every sense of the word. More even than the vodka cranberry she had drank through that first night she found him.

That had been only the first time she had indulged in his stream.

(Y/N) only relented to making an account on the site when she had visited his page for the third time (second time sober). She felt a bit guilty to be viewing his content for free when it was clear this was an opportunity for him to make money through the tips that poured through and filled the meter to the side of the video. But, she found her own way to support him once she was comfortable: she commented in the chat stream. She was much more tame than others, but she did enough to let him know that he was appreciated by her. That she liked him.

It was lame to say, especially out loud, but H had become the consistent man in her life and she liked that she was granted with the privilege of being a part of the fantasy of his stream. He made it that much easier, even in the short amount of time since she had stumbled onto his page, to get through classes with something to look forward to when she was burnt out. He made getting off a lot more fun, if she was being honest, even if he was nothing more than a fantasy that played out on her laptop screen.

She was never going to meet him anyway, so she was free to pine over him, she decided. No harm done.

—————

(Y/N) loved her roommate with her whole heart.

Naomi had been her best friend since their freshmen year and was the one person she knew she could live with without jeopardizing their friendship in the process. She had even enrolled in a physics course—something outside of her required credits—just because Ny needed to take it and was scared of going alone. (Y/N) loved her like a sister.

But, god, she fucking hated her sometimes.

After (Y/N) had gone through all the trouble to get signed up for the physics course she didn't need, and even gone through syllabus week and prepared herself to work with something that was entirely out of her wheelhouse, Ny dropped the class. The worst part was that she hadn't even bothered to let (Y/N) in on the secret until the deadline had passed. Her apology was given in the form of a pair of guilty puppy dog eyes staring at her as Ny pleaded with her to not be angry and that she would do all their laundry for a month to make it up to her. ((Y/N) managed to up the deal to two months before she accepted).

That was how (Y/N) found herself walking alone to the science building, trekking the dreaded route to Prof. Stanfill's room. It wouldn't have been so bad if she felt any semblance of comfort in the course and the material, but (Y/N) hated her physics class almost as much as she hated Ny the day she confessed she dropped the class.

She had always known the sciences weren't her strongest suit, but this was on another level. No matter how many times she tried to understand the direction the lesson was taking, notes dutifully pulled up on her laptop, nothing seemed to help the confusion that settled over her as soon as Stanfill started his lecture.

Not only did the material go entirely over her head, but she was almost halfway sure her professor was actually just a walking robot. From the moment she sat down—attendance was a huge part of her grade unfortunately, otherwise she would have skipped almost every session—, she was assaulted with his monotone voice and the too-small projector he had displaying dated notes she was sure he hadn't updated since the nineties. The worst part was that she didn't even need to be there; this wasn't advancing her any closer to her degree, but it was too late.

Now, she was stuck with Professor Stanfill and a file on her laptop full of useless notes.

(Y/N) did her best to make the most of it, finding anything to comfort her through the class and make it somewhat easier to process. Whenever she could, she made the trip to get some sweetened coffee to bring with her. She never made a huge effort to look put together for the class either, opting for sweaters that accommodated the weather outside and she could get away with napping in when she made it home. She had also claimed an aisle seat in one of the further rows in the back, closest to the door. As soon as class was dismissed, she took full advantage of the prime spot to bolt out of there as quickly as possible.

That's how her Monday had started as she walked into the lecture hall, a comfy sweater wrapped around her form and a too-hot coffee warming her palm. She dropped her bag beside her preferred chair, pulling her laptop out onto the bench style table top that lined the amphitheater of seats. The space beside her was occupied by the boy with the kind smile that had taken the chair after Ny dropped the course.

He was another of the small things that made getting through the session just a bit easier, despite the way (Y/N) hadn't ever had a real conversation with him in the last month they'd been seatmates. Even with the lack of conversation, he had been nice enough to offer her a pen the first day (Y/N) had walked in alone as a flustered mess after Ny had confessed her secret. He regularly gave her soft smiles and whispered short thank you's whenever she passed down worksheets or let him scoot behind her when he was on his way out. He was a good seatmate to have; kind, quiet, and consistent.

He—Harry? Or his name could be Edward, she's honestly not sure and she feels too bad to ask considering she felt like she should know by now—was the coziest person she'd seen around campus, too. Every session he showed up in some variation of a chunky cardigan or sweater (today's knit was a large orange mess of thick yarn, the color deep enough to resemble a pumpkin's rind), wide-legged pants, and a pair of scuffed Vans that looked well loved. Varnish was always painted over his nails, the polish sticking around for two weeks before he had something new glimmering at his fingertips (this week's was a warm brown color with glittery gold accents). Before every lecture, he pulled his glasses from his bag to perch the wide frames on the bridge of his nose.

What (Y/N) had noticed first about him was just how smart Harry was. It was clear in the way he took his dutiful, color-coordinated notes, and the way he breezed through exams with the near perfect scores on lab write-ups. His notes were handwritten in a pristine notebook that, if (Y/N) hadn't known better, she would have assumed it had never been used. Compared to (Y/N)'s typed version, his were levels above even with the somewhat messy nature of his writing. She wouldn't be surprised if he was on the dean's list every semester with the university throwing money at him in hopes of keeping his attendance lest he choose somewhere more Ivy League. She looked forward to the speech he would give at graduation as top of their class.

If she couldn't have Ny with her, she was happy to have someone like Harry seated with her.

(Y/N)'s attention shifted when Professor Stanfill dimmed the lights and projected his notes across the canvas hung at the front of the room. No introduction was offered as he dove into this lecture's subject. She was always left a bit scrambled to catch up with him, though she knew beside her Harry had his hands busy already finding value in whatever Stanfill was saying.

—————

"Bye Ny! Text me if you need anything!"

Naomi tossed her promises and goodbyes over her shoulder before leaving in a flash of shaggy blonde hair to meet with a couple of friends for a study group. (Y/N) basked in the silence that settled over the apartment for a moment, her muscles decompressing.

After her physics class, she had immediately gone home and tried her best to get through some homework and even attempted to sort through her physics notes in hopes of rearranging them to make any sense. With all the added work, she felt like she hadn't left campus in over ten hours despite the comfort of her own apartment around her. The only thing that had drawn her from the struggle that was her school bag, was Ny dragging her out to say goodbye before she left. Now, with the clarity of mind she found away from her work, she was able to finally deflate.

She didn't want to go back to her work, not having the strength to reanalyze a concept she had little to no grasp on anyway. So, she stuffed all of her things back into her bag and tucked it away underneath her desk with no intention of looking at it again until Monday morning. (Y/N) snuggled herself in her bed, laptop warming her thighs as she closed out of the research tabs she had pulled up in an effort to better understand her physics material. All that was left open was a couple different tabs of Etsy shops and this pair of shoes she had been yearning over for months.

Now, (Y/N) hadn't even intended to key in the too familiar URL—she wasn't even in that kind of mood if she was being honest. She had planned on napping, but if H just so happened to be streaming, she could fit that in before tucking under the covers she decided. Still, she found herself loaded onto the green webpage with no hesitation. She was quick to get signed in, cringing at the fact her details auto-filled as she tapped the blue button to be directed onto the start page littered with the rows of other users she had no interest in. She breezed past the tiles, feeling uncomfortable to be viewing them although she was obviously on this site for a reason. Clicking the search function in the top corner, (Y/N) typed in the familiar username that came up as a suggestion after the first few keystrokes.

His page filled her screen, the usual vague details listed under his username greeting her. She trailed her eyes over the screen, finding that he'd made a new status only minutes ago detailing that he would be going live five minutes from when the post was made. Flicking her eyes to the top of her screen, finding it had been almost four minutes since, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before clicking on the link.

The usual page loaded, his standby screen filling the space where his stream would pop up. The screen showed off his username and all the links to his various premium accounts before he turned his camera on. (Y/N) always felt a tiny bit guilty when she saw the encouragements to tip during his show or otherwise check out one of his paid services. She wasn't able to do either—she was in college, what can she say?—but she tried her best to make up for it by interacting as much as she was comfortable with in the chat, even when the thread was being flooded far too quickly.

She barely had a second to marinate in the self-appointed guilt before the screen flickered and blinked his standby screen away. The familiar view of H with his head cut from frame and the solid build of his body being the main focus took her attention. She felt like Pavlov's dog, at this point, just the first sight of him eliciting a conditioned reaction that let her know the pleasurable direction her night was taking.

"Hello," he quipped, throat bobbing around the word with a smile in his tone, "How are you tonight?"

He always started the show the same, asking about his viewers' days while knowing good and well what people were there to see. She thought it was sweet, whether it was a calculated move to make the stream feel more personal or an instinctual choice. Nonetheless, this was one of her favorite parts of his streams, she decided. She thought it was nice of him to ask something like that when he could just jump into the things that actually make him money.

(Y/N)'s eyes struggled to follow the amount of comments that came pouring in, many giving bland answers before urging him to pull his clothes off and calling him his preferred title of daddy. His hands on his thighs flexed, the veins and tendons in the appendages making themselves known as he assumedly read through some of the more intense comments that breezed over his pleasantries all together. She hesitated before typing out her own response, knowing it was rather dull in comparison to what was being shot at him.

sunflowerssweetheart: my day was good, but im even better now!! hbu??

She cringed as she pressed send. If anything, he wouldn't respond if it didn't catch his eye or it could get swept away if he replied to anyone else's comment first. But, (Y/N) hoped it might stand out that she was repeating his question to him, something she hadn't seen in the chat beforehand.

A breathy laugh sounded through the speakers, his chest expanding underneath the sheer, black fabric of his top that did nothing to conceal the tanned skin underneath. "M'day was good, too, sweetheart, thank you for asking. 'M happy you're here, too."

He went on to reply to a few other comments, the depth of his voice turning into a warm current that washed over her with every syllable, but (Y/N) felt a little too happy with herself that her comment had been the one he responded to first. She melted into her bedding the more he talked, hoping one of the daddy comments would catch his eye and set the tone for the rest of the stream.

There was a moment's pause as he lent back into his chair, leaving the full of his chest unobstructed. The leafy tattoos that adorned his hips were just barely peeking under his shirt, but (Y/N) couldn't keep her eyes off them.

"I wanted to take it slow tonight, is that alright? Been a long day, and daddy's stressed out. Can I take m'time with you, baby?"

(Y/N) could have sworn she felt her pupils dilate at his words, the honorific stuttering her heart before fluttering through her system to settle between her legs. He was a dream—a dirty dream, sure, but still one she didn't want to wake from.

"That's alright? Want to see daddy take his time? Make a mess just for you?"

She watched on as his hands reached for the buttons on his shirt, a glimmering gold flicking off of his nails as he worked through the buttons. Before she could get a better view of whatever it was he had painted over his nails this stream, his shirt was buttoned wide open with his hands dragging over the expanse of his chest. A hummed moan vibrated from his throat, the sound wrapping around (Y/N) with a clench to her thighs.

God, she was happy Ny was out.

—————

"I still can't believe you dropped the class without telling me, as if I wasn't going to figure it out considering we live together and I was going to notice when you didn't come to class with me."

(Y/N)'s tone held amusement as she checked her student portal, double checking that she hadn't missed an assignment from Stanfill—her weekend was unusually empty of physics stress aside from the self-assigned read-through of her notes.

"I felt bad!" Ny whined, dropping her attention from the crew of housewives they were watching on T.V., "I had begged you for weeks to pick up physics then realized I didn't even need it because I read the requirements wrong, and I was embarrassed! You already know I'm sorry!"

"I know you are," (Y/N) smiled at her from a slumped position on their couch, "I already forgave you weeks ago, but now I'm doing this alone."

"You're not completely alone," Ny argued, dropping her small bagel pizza onto her paper plate, "I know you've made friends."

"Barely," she countered, disregarding her phone in favor of reaching for the throw blanket at her side, "It's hard making friends while trying to keep the entire subject straight in my head."

"What about that guy you said moved next to you after I dropped?"

"He never talks to me, you know that. It's like he's scared of me. I've probably heard him talk a handful of times, including when I had to ask him for a pen so it wasn't even voluntary."

Ny rolled her lips between her teeth, flicking her eyes across the room in thought. "You said he's really smart right?" she perked up further at (Y/N)'s affirming nod, "Just ask him about that stuff then and see if he'll help you. It'll get him to talk more, if anything."

(Y/N) heaved a sigh, her shoulders rising only to fall back into the downy blanket around her, "Ny, this would have been so much easier if you had just stuck with me. We'd be falling together at least."

"You're not going to fail, (Y/N)," she argued, a softened undercurrent to her words.

"Have you seen my grade?"

"We're not even two months in; there hasn't been any exams for you to bomb yet, how bad could it be?"

(Y/N) knew Naomi was trying to be encouraging in her own way, combating (Y/N)'s self-deprecating remarks but it wasn't super helpful to hear about a test she'd hadn't bombed yet. She looked to her friend with a raised brow, waiting for her to realize what exactly it was that she said.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out, shoulders deflating, "Is there anything I can do to help? I can read over your notes and help you reformat them, if that helps?" She let out a small sigh, traces of her earlier amusement draining from her blue eyes, "I really am sorry, (Y/N), I was too embarrassed to tell you but I should have before you got stuck with this."

"I know," (Y/N) smiled, "And it's really okay, you know I'm just being dramatic. But I think I'm all caught up in my notes and everything—I still don't understand it, but there's no more work to be done anyway. Stanfill didn't even assign any reading for this weekend, so I think I'm finally not going to be behind on Monday."

"You're lucky," Ny mumbled around her pizza bagel, "My profs only do that when they have something worse planned for the weekend."

"I know, I was surprised. But, I mean, I'll take it." (Y/N) shifted her attention to the television in front of her, dropping back into the 'reality' of the show.

The more she thought about it, maybe Ny was right. It might not be a bad idea to ask Harry for help, especially if it would mean she had someone to talk to in that class.

—————

(Y/N)'s weekend of grace came to an abrupt end as she walked into Prof. Stanfill's lecture hall. Despite the fact she'd already had a pair of classes earlier in the day, nothing made her feel quite like it was Monday until she was forced to wrap her mind around concepts she couldn't even spell. She was running a few minutes late as she trudged to her seat, not having had enough time to grab something sweet to drink but still donning a green cardigan to keep her warm and comfortable.

It wasn't until she dropped her bag by her seat that she noticed her seatmate wasn't there like usual. Despite the small amount she saw of him, Harry was a rather predictable person—at least his schedule was, anyway. He was always there before her, set up with his highlighters and pens in neat rows and his notebook flipped to the exact right page. This wasn't like him at all to be missing just seven minutes before Stanfill was meant to start class. She hoped he was okay.

Eventually, just as (Y/N) begrudgingly had opened up her never ending document of notes, her seatmate stumbled through the heavy doors with a flustered expression marring his features.

He ran a heavy hand through the swirl of curls on his head, (Y/N) able to hear the audible sigh he heaved as he climbed the stairs to their row. He wore a pair of rust colored corduroy flares with a large black jumper bundled over his torso, his shoulder bag falling down his arm to land in the crook of his elbow. He clumsily sat down in his spot beside her, a mess of handwritten notes and colored highlighters and pens spilling out from the unfastened flap of his bag. Despite the mess, he breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down, the tension in his muscles dropping as he noticed Stanfill hadn't started class.

As his mess of utensils spilled across the tabletop, (Y/N) was quick to save a few of the pens and markers before they could tumble over the ledge. She passed them to him, settling them in a neat row beside the pile he was curating of his mismatched papers.

"Thank you," he responded quietly, his hands shaky as he straightened his jumble of notes.

She had never seen him so out of sorts like this. This wasn't the same guy she had pictured reading off a well-prepared speech at graduation. She was sure he wasn't used to feeling like this either if the flush disappearing down his neck and the worry curling his brow had anything to say.

"You okay?" she asked, just as quietly as he had spoken. She hoped she read him right; she'd feel awful if he took her question the wrong way like she thought something was wrong with him. The downfall of never speaking with your seatmate, she figured—she had no idea how he worked.

"Y-Yeah," he stuttered, finally setting his things out the rightful order he liked them in, "Jus' had a late start this morning." The blush that warmed his neck traveled upwards and painted over his cheeks. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, as he reached into his bag to pull out his glasses case, slipping the large frames onto his pink nose.

Just as (Y/N) was about to respond, Professor Stanfill started up his ancient projector and began babbling on with no introduction.

Beside her, Harry sifted through his notes with a purpose, opening to the preferred page before detailing more notes on the already filled page. Usually, she wouldn't be so surprised that all of the information—being so monotonously presented—were things she didn't quite understand, but today was a whole other story.

Stanfill was going on about a completely new topic than the one they left on last Friday.

She quickly scrolled through her notes while paying as much attention as she could to what he was saying. She couldn't find any remnant of today's topic (oscillations, apparently) in any of her scattered notes. She could see from the corner of her eye that her classmate was only adding tidbits to his already completed notes, nodding his head along to certain points Professor Stanfill brought up.

She flicked her gaze nervously between her lecturer and Harry. She didn't want to interrupt the boy next to her, but she really needed to have at least some semblance of what was going on. She just hoped this was worth the embarrassment.

"Excuse me?" she whispered, leaning over the bench table closer to his space.

His head popped up from his notes, his glasses shifting down his nose as his eyes widened behind the lenses. "Yes?" he answered, his voice just as hush as his gaze never shifted from her's despite the pink dusting his skin.

"What is he talking about? Did I miss something?" She flicked her gaze towards the head of the room.

"Oh," he mumbled, a furrow in his brow appearing, "Did y'not come to the lab over the weekend?"

(Y/N)'s heart dropped at his words, her expression mirroring the fall.

"There was a lab?"

He looked almost guilty as he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly nodding his head. He looked ready to say more before the sound of Professor Stanfill's voice projecting to the back of the auditorium stopped him.

"Do we have any questions in the back?" he boomed. For the first time his voice wasn't completely monotone.

Harry perked up in his seat, a stray curl landing across his forehead as his posture straightened. "No, sir," he answered quickly, shaking his head and pushing his glasses up his nose.

Stanfill shot them a warning look, flicking his searing gaze between the two of them before continuing on with the lesson (Y/N) was still lost on. Harry resumed his note taking, shooting her an apologetic glance before focusing on the page in front of him.

—————

(Y/N) was lost the remainder of the class, Professor Stanfill occasionally throwing her end of the room glances as he continued lecturing. Beside her, her seatmate continued taking his detailed notes, eventually turning to a new sheet of paper titled with another topic she had no idea they had moved on to. By the time they were dismissed, he had added another three pages to his pile and (Y/N) had typed about three words.

She knew she was going to be fucked anyway, since lab was a fairly large part of their final grade. All she wanted to do was go home, and pretend this hadn't happened. She didn't waste a second before she was rushing to pack up her supplies after getting dismissed by Stanfill.

Just as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started down the steps, a hand gently grabbed her bicep.

"W-wait," the shaky voice she had come to be familiar with sounded behind her. (Y/N) turned to find Harry stumbling after her with his glasses perched on the top of his head and his curls messily falling in his face. He clutched a bundle of looseleaf papers in his other hand as they came to a stop at the base of the steps. "I—uh—I wanted to give y'these, if y'wanted them," he reached his hand out to her with the somewhat crumpled page, "They're m'notes from the lab and today, so y'can catch up if y'wanted."

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, the already raspberry colored skin now flushing to a deep red and swelling against the force. His hands held a slight tremor as he offered her the papers.

(Y/N) felt her eyes round out at his actions. "Are you sure?" she questioned, not wanting to take them unless she knew he was okay with lending the notes she knew he took great pride in.

He jerkily nodded his head, a small smile on his face despite the fact he was still biting down on the full of his bottom lip. "I know y'need them, so please." He urged the papers towards her again, scuffing the toes of his white Vans into the floor.

She gratefully took the volunteered pages from his loose grip, her brows downturning as she gazed at him. "Thank you so much. You really don't have to do this, but it really means a lot."

"You're welcome," he smiled, dimples denting his cheeks as she took his gift. (Y/N) reciprocated his smile and scanned over the organized notes in her hands, finding his name scribbled in the top corner.

"Your name's Harry?" she confirmed, edging towards the door as he followed beside her. Now she didn't have to worry about calling him the wrong name. He nodded his head in response, her question making his cheeks turn a quick pink despite himself. "I'm (Y/N)."

Harry nodded his head beside her, a shy smile on his lips. "Nice t'meet you, (Y/N). Officially."

(Y/N) smiled at his polite introduction, looking over the notes in her hand. They had stopped just outside Stanfill's hall, the large windows showing the quad with the autumnal sun lighting up their forms.

"Thank you again, Harry," she started, sliding the papers into her bag after glancing at the time on her phone: 4:13. She hadn't planned on tuning in tonight, but if (Y/N) didn't want to miss the one sure-fire way she would get any form of stress relief after the class she just endured, she needed to get home soon. "I'll get these back to you on Friday, okay? I have to go, but I'll see you then!"

She tossed him a wave before turning around, walking towards the parking lot. Harry gave her his own dimpled grin.

"Bye, (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder one more time before hurrying to her car.

—————

(Y/N) sighed as she settled into the down of her comforter, the smooth satin of the pajama set she had changed into sliding against her skin (she wanted to feel pretty before she watched the stream, she thought she deserved it). She pulled her laptop onto her thighs, sticking her headphones in her ears before opening up a private tab.

She barely even paid attention as she routed herself to the familiar green layout, signing in and pulling up the page scrawled with treatpeoplewkisses across the top. She hoped that she had gotten his scheduling right; she hoped that Monday was a stream night. When she saw that he hadn't started anything, instead posting the usual announcement detailing that he would be going live in ten minutes in the custom pink font, she felt lucky as she sunk into her comforter.

Just as the time ticked to five o'clock, another status came through, detailed with a link to the stream he was starting now. The only hesitation that came as (Y/N) followed the link came from her stress-wearied muscles, but she had high hopes for that feeling to be melted away by the end of the night.

The chat was already racing through with comments by the time the page loaded. The typical standby screen was situated where H would appear any second with the empty tip meter off to the side. (Y/N) melted into her bedding as she waited, grateful for the fact Ny was still in one of her classes.

Suddenly, his deep voice sounded through her headphones although the standby screen never changed. "Hello," he chirped the familiar greeting despite no view of him. The comments started flooding in, asking him where he was and why they couldn't see him. "How ar—Wait, did I forget to turn m'camera on again?"

A breathy laugh sounded through her ears causing (Y/N) to match the smile she figured was on his face. Although she hadn't been a viewer for very long at all, she had already picked up on his habit of forgetting to turn his camera on every couple of shows. After a bit of rustling coming from his end, the standby screen was replaced with the familiar view of his body from the neck down.

He wore a thin, white t-shirt tonight, his tattoos etched on his arms on display with the few covering his torso only thinly veiled by the fabric.

He waved his hand at the screen, his breathy laugh filling the air. "Hello, again. Sorry about that, 'm a little flustered today. Ran a little late this morning filming a new video, which should be up this weekend on m'premium, and I've been all out of sorts since. I apologize for being late, as well."

He settled his hands on his thighs, quiet for a moment as he assumedly began to read through the comments flooding in. Many were asking what the video from this morning featured, while others were telling him it was okay he was late and that they didn't mind. Majority completely bypassed the conversation, impatient for the real show to begin with pleads sandwiched around his honorific in hopes of spurring him on.

"Thank y'for understanding." His voice was soft as he spoke, (Y/N) could imagine him with a kind smile on his face and his eyes tender. She knew and understood why he never showed his face and respected that choice, but she often found herself wondering what he looked like behind the camera. She'd bet he's beautiful.

"Anyway," he started, painted fingers plucking at the hem of his plain top as he sat back in his chair, "How are y'today? You've already heard about m'day, I'd like to hear about your's."

A stream of comments filtered through the chat, most ignoring the question or breezing through it before sending requests for the show. (Y/N) rested her fingers on the keyboard, trying to think of an answer to his question before he would move on.

sunflowerssweetheart: mine was good thank u!! i finally asked for help in one of my classes today so hopefully i can figure out what's going on !

Like he somehow always did, he found her comment.

"That's good, sweetheart, 'm proud of you," he praised, the smile in his tone audible. She didn't know if it was particular to only her, but (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like he reserved sweetheart just for her, always replying to her comments with the pet name. She hoped it was, especially since the name was in her user. (And, she would feel a little silly getting bashful over nothing, so she clung to the hope that she wasn't just making it up).

(Y/N) felt her own smile tug at her cheeks, feeling shy at his compliment although he couldn't see her. She quickly typed out another comment before he could get distracted by the tips coming in, urging him to start.

sunflowerssweetheart: thank you h!!:)

She knew she was most likely not going to get another response from him, seeing as her comment was very quickly buried under the new tips coming in, captioned with requests to start the show and asking for daddy to "show his cock".

"I see you're in a daddy mood tonight, again," he mused, slowly tugging his shirt off and revealing the collection of tattoos adorning his torso. He settled back into his seat, his chest now bare, "Good thing I am, too."

His skin looked soft as he relaxed, highlighted by the soft lighting that surrounded his set up. (Y/N)'s heartbeat picked up as she gazed at him through the screen. She wished she could meet someone like him in real life.

She watched on as he rubbed his palm along his thighs, the look of his long fingers scratching down the fabric of his pants catching her attention. She absently trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, imagining what it would feel like to have his hands warming her skin like that, sneaking under the hem of her satin shorts in search of the tie-dye thong she had concealed under the delicate fabric. She sighed as she watched one of his hands travel between his thighs, the full of his cock filling out the fabric of his trousers.

His hand cradled the outline of his hardened prick, giving the bulge a squeeze as a hiss sounded through her headphones. His stomach muscles clenched as his breathing stuttered. (Y/N) imagined his head rolling back on the headrest of the chair he sat in, blissed out at the feel of new relief.

"Daddy's been s'hard all day for you, s'hard," he groaned, his fist wrapping around his shaft as best he could as he emulated jerking himself off in teasing twists. "Took everything not to go off in the middle of m'day and make myself cum thinking of you."

She knew he was feeding them lines like from a script, designed to make each of his viewers believe he was talking only to them, but she couldn't help but fall for it. She liked to fantasize that he had thought of her the way she had thought of him. She didn't have even half the mind to be embarrassed as she slid her hand under the waist of her shorts, brushing against the softened fabric of her underwear. She felt flush as she found the wet patch that had soaked through her thong, the wetness seeping between her lips already.

He breathed a laugh that filtered through her headphones. "Already want me to pull m'cock out? We've barely even started, baby."

Her eyes fluttered as she took in his teasing. She knew he was most likely responding to the comments she had stopped bothering to read, but it felt like he was talking to her and teasing her for wanting to see and feel all of him. Her fingers pressed gently against her clit, the wet fabric of her panties sticking to her slit. She felt breathless.

She couldn't help herself before she typed another quick comment, hoping it would somehow sway him the way she needed.

sunflowerssweetheart: please daddy:(

She watched as he gave his cock a final squeeze before settling his hands on the armrests of the chair he was sat in. He clenched his fingers around the cushioned ledge, slowly standing from his position. His stomach with the bottom of his butterfly tattoo and the full of the laurels bracketing his hips were left in frame, but the crotch of his pants were the focus of the shot. His hands slowly worked the button of his trousers, the pace teasing.

"Well, since y'asked so nicely, sweetheart," he crooned, (Y/N) melting as he said the name—her name, again. She liked to think he was doing this for her.

With that, his tip meter went up like crazy; the chat was filled with the declarations of high amounts of money being donated to him sandwiched between viewers voicing their praise. He didn't seem to pay the rise any attention, keeping his focus on the show he was giving. His pants were left undone as he pushed them down to his knees with the grey of his tight boxers being left on display. The outline of his cock laid against his thigh with a small wet patch forming where his slit dripped precum. His hand slid down the muscles of his stomach, slipping under the fabric and wrapping his fist around his shaft. He let out a deep moan, his stomach tensing at the feel of his hand and the relief flooding his system.

"This what y'wanted, baby?" he teased, playing a game with his wanton viewers. He shifted his stance, standing with his side to the camera with his hand jerking off his cock in front of him. (Y/N) could see the outline of his fingers through the fabric, his rough tugging allowing small glimpses lower into his boxers. She could just imagine the smirk on his face as he knew what he was doing, going on with the teasing while he got what he wanted.

(Y/N) own fingers pressed headily against her clit, rubbing tight circles around the bundle at the sight on her screen. She'd never gotten this wet before she found his streams that drunken lonely night, no matter if she didn't get to see his face. She dipped her fingers behind her underwear, the slick of her slit wetting her fingertips. A small whimper left her lips at the contact, picturing H's long fingers slipping through her folds.

She wanted to see more of him; see more of his body she imagined was touching her's.

sunflowerssweetheart: more p lease daddy:( im so wet:(

Her comment was messy given the fact she was typing one handed, but she hoped it would be more enticing than embarrassing. She watched on as his motions slowed in his boxers, his hand sliding out from underneath the fabric. He hooked his index fingers into the waistband, tugging his boxers down just the smallest bit to reveal the beginnings of a dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

"You're 'so wet', sweetheart? All for daddy, right?" he continued, his mocking words feeling directed to only her despite the comments and tips rolling in to say otherwise.

sunflowerssweetheart: all for you daddy

Without another word, he tugged his boxers down the rest of the way. His cock sprung up against his bare stomach, his large butterfly tattoo now dotted with a string of his precum. The head was ruddy and flushed, the shine of his precum coating his shaft and playing off the lighting in his room. Still standing, he wrapped his fist around his cock and started fucking down his shaft in the same rough tugs he had kept hidden from them in his boxers.

"See how hard I am for you, baby?" he moaned, his free hand coming to cradle his balls in his large palm. (Y/N) swore her mouth watered at the sight, wishing it were her hands tugging at his prick, and her mouth wrapped around the head. She wanted to make him feel good.

"Mm, yeah?" he moaned, his fist speeding up, "Like seeing daddy fuck himself for y'like this? Bet y'wish it was your hand, right, baby?"

(Y/N) let out a loud moan at his dirty talk, feeling unencumbered by the empty apartment she was holed up in. It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Her own fingers stuttered over her clit, the wetness seeping between her thighs making a slick noise with each pass. She watched on as he sat back down, his cock standing straight up in his lap.

He worked his pants and boxers further down to his ankles, allowing him to spread his legs further apart. She could see clearly between his thighs, the way his hand gently cradled his balls and the rough tugs along his shaft. He let out coarse moans as he stopped and squeezed at the head of his cock, his chest stuttering in correlation with his breathing.

"Feels so fucking good, you know that? Thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around daddy's cock." His voice was low and deep as he prattled on about his fantasy, his accent wrapping around his title and causing the fire to burn brighter in (Y/N)'s tummy.

"Bet you'd like that wouldn't you, sweetheart? Daddy's big cock fucking your mouth, making y'gag and get all messy for me." The hand he had cradling his balls shifted from it's spot between his legs, stopping on the straining muscles of his stomach. His hand on his prick sped up, his moans deepening with incoherent mumblings about how good he felt. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat increase in her chest as she watched the hand on his stomach dig his nails into the butterfly etched across his skin at the pleasure coursing through his system. His thighs tensed at the feeling, small red marks appearing on his skin as he drug his nails across the expanse.

"Feels s'fucking good, shit."

(Y/N) wished it could be her to cause those moans to leave his lips, the image of her sat between his thighs spurring on her own arousal.

She watched with her hand in her panties as he brought himself closer and closer to release, moans spilling from his lips and filtering through her headphones. He varied the pace of his strokes, speeding up and bringing himself close to finishing with groans of how good he felt and how he was s'close to cumming for his baby, only to stop and slow down. He would pause with his hand settling on his base, squeezing roughly to stave off his orgasm and prolong the show. Tips were flooding in the whole time, viewers urging him to cum, telling them how they wished they could be there with him, requesting different things from him. H replied to a few, bringing in more tips and comments from his audience.

(Y/N) couldn't stop herself before she brought her unoccupied hand to her keyboard, wanting to gain some kind of attention from him to bring herself that much closer to her own release.

sunflowerssweetheart: ur cock is s pretty daddy I cant wait to see u cum please

A groan bubbled from her onscreen performer, his tugs along his shaft speeding up. "Y'think daddy's cock is pretty, sweetheart?"

He sounded breathless as he replied to her, his name for her accompanied with a small shudder as he swiped his thumb over the precum soaked crown of his prick. (Y/N)'s own weeping hole gushed more wetness, soaking the already ruined panties and now the inseam of her satin shorts. She snuck a teasing finger towards her entrance, the base of her fingers still rubbing at her clit.

sunflowerssweetheart: so pretty daddy

sunflowerssweetheart: i wanna see u cum so bad

Another loud moan filtered through her ears after she pressed enter, H—hopefully—having read her comment. He spread his legs further apart, his hand reaching towards his heavy balls again as his thighs clenched at the contact.

"Y'want daddy to cum, sweetheart? Are y'close, too? Don't wanna cum without you." His voice was graveled as he moaned out his words, (Y/N)'s eyes closely following the rhythm of his tugs. She mimicked the pace with her own fingers, slipping a single digit into her hole and rubbing the heel of her palm into her clit.

She wanted him to cum so badly, to see the sticky ropes of his orgasm be released all over his tummy and his hands she wished were her's instead. Despite the other comments rolling in, declaring how close the other viewers were, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to type her own response back, even if he didn't catch it.

sunflowerssweetheart: im so close daddy i wanna cum with you

"Okay," he crooned, his voice breathless while still being able to pull off the sultry tone he had mastered, "Daddy'll cum with y'sweetheart. Gonna cum so hard for you."

She was too distracted with her own pleasure to write anything coherent back, her finger soaked inside her pulsing pussy. Her walls tightened around her digit, fantasizing what H would say if it were his fingers stretching out her pussy instead. She settled for watching the way his chest took on a pinkened flush as he grew closer and closer to the release he promised. Small, strangled groans spilled from his lips, only interrupted by the moans of curses detailing how good he felt. His hand made squelching sounds as he pumped his cock, the slick of his precum making it that much easier for his fist to pass over the length in slick runs. His thighs tensed and split wider apart as he melted in his seat. From the top of the frame, where his neck was displayed with thick veins and tendons protruding from under the dewy skin, the smallest of deep brown tendrils of hair were peeking out and curling at his jawline.

"Gonna be a lot, sweetheart, can already feel it. Gonna be s'much cum for you," he groaned, his fingers now focusing on the head of his cock as his other hand gently tugged on his balls and brought himself closer. A whimper left (Y/N)'s throat, fighting to keep her eyes open as she didn't want to miss a minute of his show.

"Y'wan—fuck," he was cut off by his own moaning, the swear falling from his lips like he had no knowledge of it beforehand, "Y'wanna see it, sweetheart? See all the cum daddy saved for you all day?"

(Y/N) nodded despite the fact he couldn't see her. His tip meter surged higher in a matter of seconds at the mention of him cumming, peaking over his usual average. More and more comments rolled in, pleading for H to cum and show everyone what he had apparently saved for them. (Y/N) didn't mind being a part of the slew of comments, her mind somewhere else and too occupied to think clearly.

sunflowerssweetheart: yes pleas e daddy

"'Please, daddy?'," he mimicked, voice pitched and whiny as his cock jumped with a small blurt of precum pearling on his tip, "So polite, s-sweetheart, can't say no to you."

Only a moment later, with his fist roughly tugging at the shaft of his prick, white ropes of cum painted his chest. They shot high enough for droplets to stand out starkly against the inked, black birds sitting on his chest, others dripping down his cock and coating his hands in the release. He wasn't lying when he had said it would be a lot. (Y/N) watched with hooded eyes as sprays of cum coated the butterfly on his stomach and the strong hands that had captured her attention the whole show. His deep moans flooded her ears, strings of curse words and uninhibited groans coming from deep in his chest. His skin was dusted a rosy pink as he breathed in stuttered, broken breaths.

Watching him cum was enough to bring (Y/N) over the edge, imagining herself there with him where she could have cleaned up for him. She came, thinking of how it would feel to trace her tongue along his chest and lick up the salty release from the muscles before cleaning his fingers and hands.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy," she called as she came, her fingers on her pussy rubbing heart stopping motions on her clit and small thrusts of her finger inside. She became impossibly wet, her release spilling past her finger and drenching the delicate fabric of her shorts. She felt the aftershocks go through her as she pictured how nice it would feel to have the weight of his big cock resting on her tongue and the taste of his cum in the back of her throat. She couldn't ever cum like this before finding H.

She hadn't realized she had fluttered her eyes closed until she heard his deep voice still breathing small moans filter through her ears, causing her to jerk her head up and blink away her cum-laden thoughts in favor of catching the end of his show. She kept her hand in her panties as she came down, delicately slipping her fingers through the mess she had made.

H was still sitting in his chair, his strong chest heaving and blushed a subtle red. His hand kept steadily jerking his cock, his member jumping as small spurts of leftover cum blurted from the tip. He came down slowly, taking longer than usual, though (Y/N) wasn't surprised if the amount of cum he had obviously been saving was anything to go by. She looked through the comments rolling in, finding the tip meter had gone higher than she had ever seen it before.

Many were asking for him to cum again, to keep the show going. (Y/N) couldn't deny that a greedy part of her wanted the same, but she could tell by the labored breathing and the way it looked like it hurt him to even tuck his cock back into his boxers, that he was much too sensitive to cum again.

A breathless laugh sounded from his end, his posture straightening as he reached for something off screen. He came back with a baby blue towel in his hand, gently wiping the cum off his chest and his hands. (Y/N) couldn't help but pout a bit at the idea of him wasting it.

"Can't cum again tonight, baby, but I'll be back soon," he said, his voice going back to the way he had started the stream. He sounded huskier, like he was tired with his tongue lazing around the words, but she liked it. She liked when he sounded just as exhausted as she felt; it made it easy to pretend this was some form of aftercare where he would cuddle her until they both fell asleep.

(Y/N) slipped her fingers out of her panties, already itching to get out of the now cold garments. She watched on as H straightened himself out, preparing for the end of his stream. His voice always took on a romantic croon at this point, the show becoming something so personal that made it easy to come back no matter how sleazy she felt afterwards.

"I adore y'so much, love. Thank y'for spending your night with me. I'll be back soon, wait for me."

Then, the screen cut to black.

The chat ceased with all other comments emptying and his tip meter going blank. With shaky hands, (Y/N) quickly logged out of the page and exited out of the site, leaving her on her previous Etsy shop pages. She carefully pulled out her headphones, stowing them away before standing on shaky legs.

Her thoughts filtered around her camboy (it felt like such a filthy phrase for someone like him, but she knew it was the reality) as she tugged her soiled shorts off along with her ruined thong. She listened closely, hoping her roommate hadn't come home early to see her walk of shame to their washing machine. Once she was in a new set of more comfortable pajamas, she dumped her clothing in the almost full machine, adjusting the settings before allowing it to run.

She washed her hands in the kitchen before trailing back towards her room. She passed her bag she clumsily dropped in the hall when she had got home, a bundle of notes sticking out from the open flap. As she picked up her bag, careful to not let the pages spill any further, she examined the notes.

As soon as she caught sight of the precise highlights and neat writing, she remembered the way Harry—not Edward—had so graciously loaned her his notes, her kind seatmate. She smiled, her first clear thought since finishing her stream with treatpeoplewkisses. She tucked the papers back into her bag, taking it with her into her room.

She couldn't help but feel sleepy as she left her bag by her desk on the floor, knowing she would have time to take a nap if she wanted to. Ny shouldn't be home for another hour or so, so she had time to snuggle into her mass of pillows and pretend the boy she had just watched on her laptop screen would cuddle her to a sweet sleep.

God, she was so happy she found H.

—————

(Y/N), with borrowed notes in hand, immediately pinned her eyes on her unassigned-assigned seat in the lecture hall, finding Harry already sat just where she hoped he'd be. He had his own gaze fixed on the perfect setup he had in front of him, the polar opposite from the mess he had worked through earlier in the week. A smile spread across her cheeks at the sight of him, still extremely grateful for the act of kindness he offered on Monday.

"Hi Harry," she greeted as she approached her seat, dropping her bag on the linoleum beside it.

He whipped his head up at the sound of her voice, eyes wide and cheeks pink, "Oh, hi, (Y/N)." A shy smile bloomed over his lips as his eyes met hers.

Settling into her spot, she offered his notes back, "Here's your notes, by the way."

Harry carefully took them from her grasp, rolling his lips between his teeth despite the clear dimples denting into his cheeks. "Thank you," he sighed, "Were they any help?"

She was hoping he would ask something of the sort. (Y/N) was extremely proud of the notes she was able to pin together with the help of his template, and she wanted to show him. "Yes, they were really helpful, Harry! Look at my notes," she said, cracking open her laptop and tapping open her physics folder. She angled the screen to show off the typed up version of his notes, the pages making more sense than the weeks of documents she already had saved, "They've never made sense like this before."

Ending with a breathy laugh, she waited for Harry's reaction. She watched on as a bright smile curled his lips, too large of a grin to be contained by the grip of his teeth. "Really?" he looked to her over the frames of his glasses, his blush reaching the tips of his ears.

"Mhm," she hummed the affirmation, sliding her laptop to sit in front of her regular spot, "You didn't have to give me your notes, so it really does mean a lot that you were willing to help me. Thank you, Harry."

"'M jus' happy I could help," he smiled, voice quiet and soft, "Thank you."

Her brow furrows at his unnecessary gratitude for her words, especially since she hadn't done anything but thank him for something kind he did. Still, she could tell there was a bashfulness that tinted his words and his voice, something that was making him nervous just like he was when he offered the notes in the first place. She didn't want to make it worse or even discourage him from talking to her again by bringing up his misplaced appreciation.

"You really like physics, huh? Like this is your class?"

(Y/N) settled into her seat, turning her body to give Harry the full of her attention. He shrugged his shoulders under the white satin shirt he had hanging open over the black top underneath. "Yeah, kinda," he mumbled, "I don't know—I know it's kind of weird, but it's really interesting to me, to be able to quantify things we can't see."

"It's not weird at all," (Y/N) said, shaking her head, "When you say it like that, it sounds really cool. I just wish I understood it; your notes helped me get this, but the rest of this class—I doubt I'll be so lucky."

Harry mimicked the short laugh she let out, his eyes dropping to her lips before he rolled his own between his teeth. "Yeah, it can definitely be complicated sometimes; you're not alone."

Stanfill made his appearance then, abruptly halting the first real conversation she'd had with anyone in her physics class and with Harry, of all people. Just as (Y/N) had said, she doubted she was going to be so lucky with the rest of the course, already knowing her next set of notes were going to be nothing compared to the aided ones she was so proud of. Nonetheless, as Professor Stanfill started off on his lacking presentation, she tried her best to keep up.

Halfway through the lecture, (Y/N) noticed the slight angle Harry's paper had taken. The page was tilted just enough to give her a view of the pieces of information he was writing down with the headings and section starters clear for her to read. She didn't know if it was on purpose, but she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to get another good set of notes that were going to make a lot more sense than whatever was being projected up front. Every time Harry stopped writing and leaned back just enough for her to get a look at what he was copying down, she did her own information search and put down the same headings and shorthand versions of what was scrawled over his page.

It wasn't until he hesitated to turn to a fresh page for him to fill, that she realized Harry was doing this on purpose. He instead tore out a stark new page, continuing where he left off while keeping what (Y/N) was still copying down in her view instead of tucking it away. A smile took her features as she figured out that none of his actions were an accident that she was taking advantage of—he wanted to keep helping her.

When Stanfill finally dismissed class, assigning reading for the weekend that (Y/N) couldn't help but be relieved about (at least she knew she wasn't missing a lab if this was their homework), it was a blessing. She didn't pack up with the same speed as she was used to, lagging behind in her movements in an effort to speak to Harry some more.

"Thank you for letting me see your notes," she smiled, tossing him a glance through her lashes as she tucked away her laptop.

As another blush crept over his features, (Y/N) worried he was going to permanently shift tones with the amount of times the blood was brought to the surface of his cheeks. "Oh, yeah. Of course."

"I just get kind of lost when he references stuff we're apparently already supposed to know or things we went over before. It's hard enough to learn something I have no idea about, and then when he compares it to something else I know nothing about, it doesn't help much," (Y/N) smiled, letting out a breathy laugh, "So thank you for letting me get a few more good notes in."

(Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbing for her phone she had stashed in her pocket and her keys. Harry was quiet with a small smile on his features, continuing to pack up the array of utensils he had for his notes.

"Well," she started, slowly edging towards the column of stairs beside their seats, "I'll see you on Monday, Harry. Have a nice weekend!"

He stopped at the sound of her goodbye, stiffening as he rushed to close the flap on his bag. He looked to her through his lashes, swallowing before straightening and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "(Y/N), wait," he called, causing her to stop halfway down the case.

"Hm?" she hummed, turning towards him to find him having a hard time meeting her eyes and enough blush coloring his face she worried about his blood flow. He lagged around a response, the few stragglers from their class having shifted their attention towards the small scene he created. (Y/N) beckoned him towards her, calling for him to join her out into the hall.

Harry almost stumbled at least twice as he caught up with her, following like a puppy as they made it out the heavy doors that guarded the lecture hall.

"Everything okay?" she asked, wondering about his earlier effort to keep her from leaving him behind.

"Yeah—I, uh," he floundered, eyeing the ground with each step of his busted Vans, "I was wondering if y'wanted help with physics? Like, tutoring and things like that?" He swallowed around his words, finding the courage to look at her over the frames of his glasses, "You said that m'notes helped, and, if y'wanted, we could go over some of the older units and I can explain some things better. But, we don't have to if y'don't want. 'M sure you're busy and we can do like we did over the weekend and I can send y'home with some of m'notes if y'liked that better but... yeah."

He ended lamely with his gaze landing in its previous position pinned towards the ground. They had stopped walking to stand in the same corridor that he had offered his first set of notes in, though he seemed to be decidedly more nervous this second time around.

(Y/N) smiled at him from where he stood wringing the strap to his bag in his fist and scuffing his toes into the ground. She decided Harry was entirely too sweet to be so nervous over offering her some help she clearly needed; it was obvious he was really shy, but she found it cute.

"I would actually really appreciate that, Harry," she said, waiting for him to look at her so he could hopefully replace the nervous set in his jaw with a shy smile she was becoming familiar with, "I would love any tutoring you're willing to offer. I definitely need it, that's for sure."

His fumbling fingers froze in the nylon of the bag strap, perking up with the smile she was hoping she would catch, "Really?" A lone curl flopped over his forehead, a boyish look taking over his giddy features.

"You've seen my sorry excuse for notes without you—you're going to change this entire course for me if you're offering actual explanations now too."

"'M jus' happy to help," Harry offered simply, something prideful settling in the broad of his shoulders.

(Y/N) fished her phone from her pocket, tapping in her passcode and pulling up her contacts before handing it out for Harry to take. "Here," she urged, "Put your number in and we can figure out times and schedules and everything."

If it was at all possible, Harry flushed a deeper pink. His skin stood out starkly against the creamy white of the button down hanging off of his shoulders, his hands exhibiting a barely there tremor as he reached for her phone. He nodded his head, the curl that brushed his forehead swaying at the movement.

Harry was quick to fill in his information, leaving his contact rather bare before handing it back to (Y/N) with a small There.

Saving the contact, (Y/N) stuck the device back in her pocket. She started edging towards the parking lot where her car was waiting, tossing Harry a smile over her shoulder. "I'll text you later, okay?"

A bright smile took Harry's features, dimples dented into his cheeks with the full of his smile on display. "I look forward to it!"

(Y/N) stifled the small laugh that bubbled in her chest at his endearing enthusiasm. "I'll see you later, Harry!"

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment as he offered her a small wave before she turned towards the parking lot. Though, she never lost her smile since she swore she felt a pair of eyes following after her.

—————

gravity is a force of attraction, keeping all matters in line.

ahhh!!!! he's finally here!!!! its been well over a year since I first posted my camboy blurb and I've finally got his story ready for everyone to see!! patreon is getting early access to this piece, so if youre ready for more there is more up on my page!!! otherwise, I cannot wait to see what you guys think as I post a new part every Friday on here!!! thank u sm for reading and being so patient w me! sorry if theres any mistakes and if you have any ideas of whats coming next or any thoughts please send them in!!

#writing #harry #harry styles #love on tour #harry smut #harry one shot #harry blurb #harry imagine #harry au #harry prompt #harry fanfiction #daddy harry #daddy kink harry #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles prompt #harry styles fanfiction #harry concept #harry styles concept #daddy harry styles #daddy kink harry styles #fine line #watermelon sugar #adore you #lights up #tpwk #falling

[mklvibes]

love you to the moon and to saturn | lee jeno

masterlist | main blog

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

pairing. lee jeno x reader

genre. established relationship. fluff. 

word count. 1800+

warnings. light angst, slight makeout session, grammatical errors ahead! (lmk if you see anything else!)

playlist. taylor swift: seven, hey stephen (taylor’s version), stay stay stay (taylor’s version). the 1975: fallingforyou

author’s note. happy belated birthday lee jeno! 

“Do you still dream of going away once you graduate?” Jeno asked you, melancholy laced in his voice. 

His question was sudden, not something you thought that was on his mind the night of his birthday. But then again, Jeno always manages to surprise you. Such as this, a clear night under the stars in their treehouse. Almost a year of dating him, yet you only found out about the treehouse today. 

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, tightening your hold on his hand. Truth be told, ever since you fell in love with him, you never thought of going away by yourself, unless it’s with him - exploring new cities, falling in love with the countryside - all of it was with him. It dawned on you then, that this man laying beside you, whose thumb was grazing the back of your palm, is your home. He is someone you pictured coming home to after a tiring day. Someone, you pictured dancing with you in the kitchen with only the refrigerator lights on. And if soulmates were real, you knew Lee Jeno would be yours. “But I know I want to be with you.” 

God, you almost cringed at yourself by saying a cheesy line. But it was what you felt. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you assured him. “It’s your birthday, Jen. You shouldn’t think about those things. I promise you I’m not going away, not when I consider this place as my home. And if I do, I’d still come back to this place. Remember how we always joked about buying that house on the hilltop and owning more than ten dogs? I’d like that with you someday.” 

“Well, maybe not ten dogs,” Jeno shook his head. “We can barely even cook properly ourselves, how will we take care of ten dogs?” 

“They’ll have to eat the failed dishes, of course,” you answered, a teasing smile on your lips.

“And risk them getting food poison? I’d rather be the one to eat those.” Jeno let go of your hand, standing up. 

You pulled on his arm. “Where are you going?” 

“Just putting on some music, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Be right back.”

You sat up when he fully left your vision, going somewhere behind you. The treehouse was not like the ones you imagined before, as something fit only for a child. This treehouse was spacious and littered with various memories from Jeno’s life. You could spend days here, asking him the story behind every little thing in the treehouse. There was a firetruck with broken tires, a story he told you earlier in which Haechan was the one to break it back in kindergarten. That was the start of their friendship, he told you. He was so mad at Haechan back then that he also broke Haechan’s remote-controlled toy car, which turned out to be Jaemin’s. It was a whole mess back then that led to the three of them becoming best friends. 

You looked around, noticing stickers of planes on the wall. The lighting of the treehouse was well enough that you see airplanes faintly drawn on its walls. It brought a small smile to your face, knowing how Jeno was on his way toward achieving his dream of becoming a pilot. 

Speaking of, you remembered your gift still in your bag. Crawling over to where it is placed, you rummaged its inside until you’ve found the blue velvet box containing your gift for him. It wasn’t much really, but the lengths you took to acquire it was something you’d treasure. 

“Hey,” Jeno walked over to you, speakers in one hand and the other holding his phone, handing it to you. “Play something.” 

“Why/” 

“Nothing,” he shrugged, sitting down next to you. “I just like the songs you listen to.” 

“Even KPOP?” 

“Yes, even that,” he said, brushing back strands of your hair that fell on the side of your face. 

You scrolled through his Spotify playlists, looking for one specific playlist. It was a playlist he made while he was still courting you with music you recommended, as well as songs from his playlists he thought you’d like. In a way, it was your comfort playlist and nothing feels comfier than this, the treehouse with a glass roof so you could see the stars, surrounded by things Jeno grew up with, and of course, the birthday boy himself. 

You found the playlist, chuckling as ‘Hey, Stephen’ by Taylor Swift played on shuffle. “You know, I always thought of you whenever I listened to this song.” 

“Why so?” He curiously looked at you, tilting his head a little to the side. 

“Because I can’t help it if you looked like an angel, can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so,” You sang, making him laugh. “Come feel this magic, I’ve been feeling since I met you, can’t help it if there’s no one else. Mm, can’t help myself.” 

“I get it now,” he wrapped his arms around you when he calmed down, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“Do you?” 

“Maybe.” You scrunched your nose at that, but you can feel him smiling. 

You placed your head on Jeno’s shoulders and looked up through the glass roof, and to the stars, noticing how clear the skies are. “You know, I never learned the names of the stars. Renjun was skilled in astrology, I wasn’t. I never bothered to learn them, only tracing them with my finger and coming up with names for them.” 

Before answering, Jeno changed your positions, moving backward before pulling you into his chest, his legs on either side of you as his hands circled your waist. “Can you introduce them to me?” 

“I don’t really remember the names, though,” you frowned, thinking deeply. 

“Oh!” You perked up, grabbing one of Jeno’s hands and tracing stars with him. “There. The one you just drew, what is that?” 

“A house?” 

“It is, so I named it Mariposa, after the street of my childhood home.” You pulled his hand again to trace another star. “Okay, that’s another one. What do you think that is?”

Jeno puffed his cheeks, making you laugh. “Any clues?” 

“No,” you answered with a playful grin. 

“Okay, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Is it a clock?” 

You shook your head. 

“A fan?” No. 

“The moon?” No. 

“Eyes?” No. 

Jeno guessed a few more, but it was far from the correct answer. “Giving up?” 

“Never,” he answered. 

With a hum, you settled comfortably in his chest, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers. You liked that he wore rings, often making you feel an additional wave of butterflies whenever you feel the cold metal in your hands when you hold his. You toyed with his rings for a few minutes, twisting them, changing their placement from one finger to another, until you feel Jeno sigh, placing his chin on your shoulder. “I give up.” 

“It’s you, silly.” You turned around to face him, cupping his face, and placing a small peck on his lips. You laughed and watched as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s a dog and I remember naming it Nono, maybe I truly was meant to find you.” 

“I love you,” was his only reply, capturing your lips in his. It wasn’t light, nor was it heavy, but it was intimate, feeling as his lips molded into yours, taking his time as if it was the first time he had kissed you like this. You blamed the heat of the moment when your eyes fluttered shut, melting into the kiss as he tightened his hold around your waist. 

When you pulled away, you immediately remembered your gift and handed it to him, sitting criss-cross in front of him on the wooden floorboard. “Happy birthday, baby.”

You watched as he carefully opened the box, smiling softly when he saw your gift. It was a silver bracelet with a moon locket, which opens with the message, ‘I love you to the moon and to Saturn’. It matched with your necklace, which has Saturn as its charm and the reply inscribed inside. “Have I told you I love you to the moon and to Saturn?” he said with a smile.

“Passed down like folk songs,” you replied not missing the reference. He pulled you into a hug, placing another kiss on your forehead before handing you the bracelet. “Help me?” 

Clasping the bracelet on his left wrist, you saw how his eyes stayed on the charm, showing galaxies in them you could never see in the night sky because only his eyes hold them. 

Instead of focusing on one thing like Jeno was doing, you became aware of your surroundings. You noticed how loud the crickets were like somehow you were in the middle of a forest. And you also heard the music slowed to a stop, changing to the next song - a much slower song this time. It was one of Jeno’s music, a The 1975 one. 

When you recognized the song, you immediately stood up, taking Jeno’s attention away from the charm on his bracelet when the floorboard creaked as you stood up. His eyebrows furrowed when you offered your hand to him, but still, he held your hand lightly, swaying it to the beat of the song. 

“Come on, dance with me,” you said, watching as recognition crossed his face over your outstretched hand. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one to say that?” He said as you pulled him up. 

“Gender roles are overrated,” you answered, rolling your eyes, as you brushed his shoulders when he stood up. 

“Touche.” He wrapped his arms once again around your waist, this time to dance with you. 

There are days when your height difference with Jeno annoys you, this is not one of those days. You were grateful that your parents blessed you with height enough to wrap your arms around his neck as you swayed towards the beat of the song. Honestly, you weren’t really sure if you and Jeno are still swaying to the beat of the song, but you didn’t care. All you did care about was this - Jeno dancing with you when he won’t even let you dance with him during prom night years ago. This was the first time the two of you have slow danced, and you were sure to savor this moment with him. 

“Are you having fun?” You asked him, your hands playing with the strands of his hair on the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, very much,” he replied. You honestly don’t know how he does it but he smiled with his eyes, and you found yourself smiling back. 

“You know, someday, we’d be doing this at our own apartment,” you said. 

Jeno hummed. “What?”

“This,” you replied. “Dancing in our own living room or around the kitchen with the refrigerator lights.” 

Jeno smiled at that. “You and your Taylor Swift references.” 

“You know you love that.” 

“I do.” He kissed your forehead. “Very much. And I can’t wait to experience that and Stay Stay Stay with you.” 

#Hiraya-M #Lee Jeno #NCT Jeno #Jeno x Reader #Jeno x Reader fluff #jeno x reader fic #jeno lee #jeno fanfic #jeno oneshot #jeno fluff #nct dream jeno #jeno fic #lol not this being super indulgent and filled w taylor swift references #also look out for most of my fics having ts songs as their titles #but yeah hope u like it and lmk what you think 🥺

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Teardrops on my Circuit Board

I wanted to write something sad but sweet for the Shroud brothers. Consider it something to celebrate Ortho’s dorm card release!

“I’m really into watching movies. At first, I wasn’t very good at emulating human-like behavior. I didn’t know when to be angry or when to be happy.”

***Spoilers for Ortho’s Birthday Gear personal stories!***

Imagine this...

“System Administrator. I have completely eradicated the dust population of Area 51, tag: ‘closet’. Please approach the neutralized space at your own discretion.”

“Th-Thanks, Ortho... I knew I could count on you to quickly clear this mission.”

Idia attempted at a smile to show his appreciation to his latest creation--no, to his little brother. Ortho stared back blankly, the bright amber irises peering into Idia’s soul. A second of time, a snap to his circuits, a beat to his artificial heart--and the sensory input was processed.

“Gratitude acknowledged.”

Gah... It’s no good. Idia’s shoulders slumped as a realization hit him. Ortho’s not acting like Ortho at all... Nothing like a real boy. Did I go wrong somewhere with developing his AI?

“System Administrator.”

“Y-Yes?!” Idia leapt at his title.

“According to the data collected from my eye camera lenses, your gaze has been lingering on my persons for 10.81 seconds. This is an abnormally large value when compared to data from previous trials.”

“I-It’s nothing, I’m just spacing out.”

“Understood. Administrator override; initiation of worry program cancelled. Ortho unit on standby, awaiting further orders.”

“O-Okay. You can rest for now. It’s my turn.” Idia heaved a sigh and crouched, his lanky form hunched over almost like a ball. Stowing away a mental note to tweak Ortho’s coding later, he delved his hands into a pile of items and set to focusing on his original objective: spring cleaning.

All sorts of things--trash and treasures alike--emerged from the darkest recesses of his closet. An old video game controller, half-eaten bags of candy (hastily discarded for their mediocre taste), opened card booster packs, a screwdriver, empty cans of Wonster energy drinks, a VHS tape with a peeling label...

O. Shroud - V Bday was scrawled in blue crayon.

This is... Idia froze, his throat as dry as the Scalding Sands. “... Ortho?”

“Yes. Ortho unit is ready to respond to any question or command.”

“Do you...” Idia hesitated. “Do you remember your 5th birthday?”

“Affirmative. Would you like for me to recall that experience?”

“I think I’ve got something ever better than just simple recall.” Idia glanced at his TV monitor, pressing the tape into a VHS player. It disappeared into the device like food vanishing past one’s lips. “With this, we can relive that time through a video recording.”

The screen flickered to life--and their eyes were drawn to the moving image upon it.

“Retrieving memories and emotions, tag: 5th birthday.” Ortho’s voice was robotic and monotone as he recited the actions he executed. By contrast, the young boy on the TV--his spitting image--was bright, exuberant.

Full of life.

That day...

“Mom and dad took time off of work to celebrate. They prepared a party for me in the garden,” Ortho recited, his face devoid of emotion.

Their parents glided across the screen, every bit as pale as their children were. Faces obscured by the angle of the camera, they lavished the young Ortho with beribboned boxes.

“That’s right.” A drop of hope seeped into Idia.

“There was a pomegranate cake, ambrosia juice to drink, decorations spun by a famous weaver, an orchestra with the finest lyre players, lots of presents... So much laughter. So many smiles.”

On the TV, young Ortho dashed through a garden in full bloom. Lights and shimmering banners were strung up from branches and tall bushes, giving the area an ethereal feel. Music flowed like fine wine. Then someone shouted his name, cutting through the song, and he darted back--back to a mountain of gifts and tables paved with delicacies.

“Wh-What else? What else do you remember?”

“Nii-san!” The Ortho on the screen called out. He waved over an awkward taller boy, who bore the same flickering blue flames for hair as him. “There you are!!”

“My big brother came, too. My big brother that I loved and admired so much. He came out of his room just to celebrate with me. I was...” Ortho paused, scanning his data banks for the right word.

Cheery? Content? Delighted? Gleeful? Glad? Jolly? Jovial? Joyful? Merry? Satisfied? No matter how many (alphabetical) alternatives he ran through, only the simplest answer seemed to fit the best.

“... happy,” Ortho said matter-of-factly. The left side of his chest plate grew warm as that word left him. His circuits shifted, realigned--and his volume softened. “I was so happy, because all of my loved ones were with me.”

An invisible hand closed around Idia’s heart and gave a harsh squeeze, his chest tightening. “Ortho...”

But the robot boy’s gaze was firmly fixated on the TV, on the curvature of the mouth.

This process would require lifting the cheeks and the commissure, his internal voice told him. Extracting relevant data... Running calculations for optimal ratio... Perfect smile package ready. Execute?

“My fifth birthday... it was the ‘happiest day’ for me, because I got to spend it with you.” Ortho turned to his brother. His eyes creased, matching that of the filmed Ortho. His smile, hidden behind a metallic visor--but it was every bit as warm as the breath of spring itself.

They spoke together. The old and the new, the past and the present, their words—their hearts—converging as one.

“I love you, Nii-san!”

Idia’s defenses shattered. All his fully upgraded ultra rare armor, stripped off and destroyed. He visibly recoiled, grasping at his face. Searing hot and wet, tears trickled down his pale cheeks

Ortho’s eyes widened.

“A-Ah, no... Th-This is...” Idia stammered as he attempted to wipe away at his eyes himself with his sleeves. Try as he might, he couldn’t fight off his status ailment, couldn’t shove away the sadness clouding his heart. “J-Just i-ignore me, okay?!”

“That is impossible. Your vital signs are abnormal—I sense that you are in great emotional pain. That is something that I cannot ignore. It must be tended to at once. Administering investigative protocol 311.”

Ortho floated closer, peeking at his bother’s face. A curious little boy staring at death itself. Was it fearless, or was if foolish?

“... Was my recall unsatisfactory? Is that what has brought about your sadness?”

“No. I-It... It was perfect. Too perfect.” Idia forced his eyes shut. His tears collected in crevices. “I started to think things I shouldn’t have. About old wishes upon a star.”

I wished that those happy days could have lasted forever.

He couldn’t being himself to finish his thought, couldn’t bear to speak it into existence. Idia’s fingers dug into the fabric of his hoodie, like claws of a beast seeking something to tear into.

His expression twisted with a flurry of complex emotions. Agony, regret, self-loathing.

“... In that case, may I input a request for a future update?”

“Wh-What? Where’s this coming from?”

“I apologize.” The robot’s voice was, once again, flat. Dead. “No explanation to answer your query could be found in my databases. I can only say that it was borne from a feeling, a desire to learn.”

Idia sniffled, wiping at what remained of his sorrow. “... What is it?”

“Please install a crying function into me.”

“What? A crying function... Why would you ask for something like that?!” Idia shook his head vehemently. “That’s... That’s totally out of the question! Your current gear isn’t liquid resistant at all!”

“I must cry. It is the only way I can understand.”

Idia’s laugh was bittersweet. A mad cackle, even to his own ears. “Hihihihii! Is that why you want to cry? To understand?”

“That is correct.” Ortho placed a hand over his heart--or rather, where his heart would be. Instead of a cardiac organ, there was a glowing blue flame peering through his fingers. “I want to feel the same sadness that you feel.”

“You don’t need such a useless function!” Idia snapped.

It came out harsher than he had intended it to, causing him to flinch at his own tone. He shrank back into himself, mouth twisting with disgust and shame. I raised my voice at my little brother.

His next words came out in a hoarse whisper. “I-I’m sorry. I... don’t want you to feel the same pain that I do.”

“I was happy because you were with me on my special day. We shared that happiness with one another.” The robot’s amber eyes burned with quiet resolve. “Therefore, it is highly probable that we can share other emotions as well. Anger, sadness... I want to experience all of them with you.”

“E-Even so... Happiness and hurt are two different things... I want you to always be smiling, Ortho. Like back then, on your birthday.”

“I want you to always be smiling...” The robot shook his head. “To err is to be human. No man can smile 100% of the time. No man can shoulder his burdens alone.”

“A-Ah... That’s... right, I guess...”

“If you are happy, I will be happy with you. If you are hurt, I will be hurt with you. Diffusing intense emotions is the most optimal solution according to my problem-solving matrix.”

Ortho was methodical in his explanation, his small form silhouetted by the video still playing on the television. Against that backdrop of moving color and sound, the blue fire of his hair—artificial as it was—seemed to glow brighter than ever before. The same face, the same smile.

The Ortho then, the Ortho now... Idia couldn’t tell where the lies ended and where the truth began anymore.

His eyes stung as they welled with tears once more.

He flung his arms around the robot, burying his head in the crook of the neck. Ortho’s core pulsated against him as Idia pressed himself into him. Hands clutching tightly onto the metal and magic—not skin and sinew—that made his little brother up.

“Please discharge all that you like from your lacrimal glands,” Ortho advised. “I will be here to comfort you.”

“I’d... like that. I’d like that a lot, Ortho.”

“I am glad, System Administrator.” He raised a hand—then stopped. “... Autocorrection: I am glad, Nii-san.”

Ortho’s palm came down on his older brother’s hair in practiced, stiff strokes. The closest to simulating comfort that he could manage.

Idia held fast and wailed louder.

All the joy, anger, and sorrow becoming one.

#Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderlands scenarios #angst #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #something no one asked for #Ignihyde #beyond the looking glass #imagine this

[pastafossa]

23-romance and 35-guilt with bucky please!

Sorry this took me a bit! ROMANCE AND GUILT COMIN UP!

Headcanon prompts can be found here!

Set below the cut because it's a little long 😅

23 - “Romance” headcanon with Bucky Barnes

Romance with Bucky is a never-ending spin of the wheel, in the best kind of way. There are times he’s incredibly, traditionally romantic, even when he’s a bit gruff about it. He brings you flowers, settles his coat on your shoulders—scent of warm leather, metal, fresh snow you eagerly soak in—whenever you’re cold. He even writes letters when he’s away—fucking handwritten letters like something out of a goddamn movie. You treasure those letters like nothing else, collecting them like the gems they are, no matter how short they may be. And god, the first time he spins you around and kisses you in the rain? You could have sworn romantic music, all violins and light piano notes, started playing in the distance.

And yet Bucky also has a hysterical habit of acting without thinking. That lack of thinking carries over into a romance with him. It’s something you find… kind of adorable honestly, especially in the beginning. Bucky is, at times, not unlike a stray cat bringing you a—fortunately not dead—present. He’ll see something while he’s out, something that reminds him of you, and the next thing he knows he’s slapping his money down on the counter. He’s always confident about it at first, this little token, eager to shove it into your hands, give you this small thing that says, I thought of you. Except… the second it’s time to actually give you this token of affection, he freezes, and what had seemed clever before suddenly seems stupid because sometimes these gifts aren’t even romantic and what would you even want with these stupid novelty waffle socks anyway, all because you made that joke about waffles? Who buys his girl waffle socks?! Those are the days you have to claw your way up his body to get into whatever he’s got in the box or bag he’s suddenly holding up out of your reach, because he will absolutely take the gift back if you don’t get ahold of it in that moment. And god damnit, you love these little gifts just as much as the flowers and chocolates. You love your goofy waffle socks, the kitschy keychain with your favorite animal on it, the tiny tin of artisan soap given all because, “you said you liked that scent a while back and I just thought… you know, it was stupid, forget it—”

“Try to take back my soap from me and I will bite through that metal arm, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Now, you just need to get him to wear some waffle socks...

35 - “Guilt” with Bucky Barnes

You thought you’d planned for all the ways his guilt might manifest: the nightmares, the cruelly self-deprecating comments disguised as sarcasm, his distaste for his scars. You rolled with it, adjusted and adapted. You curled up with him after his nightmares; you were quick to offer reassurance and affection; you made sure to kiss across his scars as easily as you did unmarred skin. You thought you had things handled.

In hindsight, you should have considered the metal arm. Or rather, how he’d feel when he accidentally nailed you across the face with it in the middle of the night as he rolled over. He couldn’t even look at you now.

“It’s not that bad,” you told him calmly, still holding the ice pack to your black eye. In truth you found the incident a little funny in a ‘of course this happened,’ kind of way but Bucky was decidedly less amused. He shook his head at you, still refusing to meet your eye as he set the bottle of anti-inflammatories down on the table in front of you alongside a glass of water. “Seriously Bucky, I’m fine.”

“I hit you,” he said simply, his jaw working as you reached up and hooked your fingers loosely in the hem of his sleep pants. “’s not fine.”

“You did it accidentally. In your sleep.”

“Still happened. Let go, Doll. Take your pills.”

You curled your fingers tighter in response. If you wanted to keep the ice pack on your eye, that meant you only had one hand free, and there was no way you were going to let go when you were pretty sure he was gonna run the second you looked away. “No. Not letting go if you’re gonna take off.”

He snorted, just a touch of amusement. “You really think you can hold me here by my fucking pants?”

“I’ve got a good grip. You’d lose the pants and I doubt even you’d run down the street naked. Even if you do, I’ll chase you so we both look crazy.”

“I’ll outrun you. Super soldier.”

“And I love you,” you shot back. “Which is infinitely stronger according to all the laws of romantic movies. Also I’ll call Sam and tell him to track you, and then he’d have video footage of you streaking. You’d never live it down.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re insane,” he muttered, equal parts frustrated and fond. “Fine. ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Take your pills.”

He sounded serious enough—maybe because he knew you were serious about this—and so you reluctantly released the hem of his pants so you could work the bottle open, tapping out two pills for yourself. “Look, I get you’re upset, and I acknowledge that, but this stuff happens—”

“No it fucking doesn’t,” he snapped, his metal hand letting out a soft whir as it closed into a fist, as he kept his head turned away, though you could still see the way his lip curled up. “Most girls ain’t gotta worry about getting a black eye from a fucking metal arm when they sleep.”

"I’m going to point out that even non-metal hands hurt when they smack you in the middle of the night,” you said gently, throwing back the pills with a swallow of water. The second you were done, you continued, “and ok, so, we switch sides of the bed. Easy fix, and now if you roll over, you won’t—”

“It’s not about that!” he shouted, and the strength of the response startled you, the way each word dripped with so much venomous self-loathing you were surprised it hadn’t eaten away the floorboards beneath him like droplets of acid. He stabbed a finger at the ice pack you were still holding over your eye, baring his teeth. “You’re treating this like it’s fucking nothing, but I hurt you! Jesus, you all just keep-keep giving shit up for me—”

“Bucky—”

“—I fucking wake you up with nightmares, you all have to deal with my shit constantly, and for what? All of you doing it for who? A fucking murderer? A f.. a fucki—”

You dropped the ice pack and lurched up to your feet, reaching for him as he lifted a hand to pull on his hair, a full-body tremble running through him. He hissed when you wrapped your arms around him, recoiling from your touch as if it burned him but you hung on, knowing what was coming. And as you wound around him, clinging tight, the trembling transitioned into hitched breathing, heavy shudders as the coiled serpent Guilt rose up inside him, threatening to swallow him whole.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry, Christ, Doll, I’m so—”

“I know.” You pulled his head down to your shoulder as he groaned, finally finally returning the hug, dragging you in so tight your bones creaked with it. “I know, Bucky.”

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes #FATWS #Headcanon prompt #Bucky Imagine #Fanfic #Guilt #Romance #Bucky being both adorable and guilty #as is his usual method of operation #Bucky is a feral cat #and he brings you gifts sometimes #but then guilt says 'no is stupid' #cat take gift back #EXCEPT YOU REFUSE #YOUR GIFT NOW #this got long whoops