#slides in three weeks late without coffee

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 🎄Simon has himself a merry little Christmas - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge

Simon opens his eyes to an empty bed on Christmas morning.

His breath catches in his chest when his hand slides across the sheets, instinctively seeking the warmth of your body, only to discover your side of the bed empty. 

His rational, tactical, professional mind tells him you've probably just gotten up with the baby. That for some reason, he slept too deeply and didn't wake up when she did this morning, like he usually does. You're in the guest room, Emmaline's room, now, or in the kitchen. Maybe you're already drinking your first cup of coffee. You're fine. The baby is fine. Nothing is wrong. 

But his heart... his heart screams. Terror ices his veins, adrenaline and fear taking control of his gross motor skills, legs twisting beneath him as he stumbles out of bed and races for the door. They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine-

“Sweetheart?” His voice betrays him. He sounds stressed, anxiety piquing, frantically turning the corner into the kitchen. Not again, he can’t do this again, this can’t happen again… 

It’s empty. The front door is still locked, and so is the patio’s, twinkling Christmas tree glowing in the late dawn light. His mind splits. Check Emmaline’s room, they’re probably in there, get control of yourself… and… the glock 19 is closest, should still be under the top shelf, call Price, mobilize the team- 

“Simon?” He whirls at the sound of your voice, air rushing out of his lungs, drawing into a relieved laugh. Emmaline is on your hip in a green, white, and red striped elf costume, complete with a pointed hat, jingle bell dangling from the top. “Morning.” You smile, and so does the baby. “Santa’s elf wanted to surprise you.” You’re still a little sleepy, eyes tired, and he does a double take when he realizes you’re in your underwear and one of his t shirts. 

“I’m… surprised.” Bloody hell. His brain isn’t working, his mouth rendering him stupid, still caught in fight or flight, and your lips subtly twist before your eyes soften, realization soft across your features. 

“Are you okay?” You question, and he nods, not trusting himself to not say something else moronic, flailing in the silence, failing. It’s been weeks since he’s felt like this, inept, clumsy, senseless, too easily settled into a life with you after that pipe burst in your flat and practically delivered him a holiday miracle, a treasure deposited right into his lap. “Here,” you push Emma into his arms, soft fingers over top his as you hand her off, looking up at him with that level trust, adoration that you’re always providing him, in your eyes. Just holding Emmaline settles the anxiety in his heart, soothes the raw buzzing that’s tearing through his head, and you smile, butting your head into his shoulder and placing a kiss there. “Will you take her while I get dressed?” 

“Yeah.” He croaks, as you squeeze his forearm, turning away. “Sweetheart,” he calls, stopping you in your tracks. He wants to tell you he thinks he loves you; he thinks he’d die without you; he thinks you’re the greatest thing he’s ever had, ever held, thinks you saved him, but nothing comes out. You hold his gaze for a second, and then two, before whispering.

“I know… me too.” Of course you do. You pause, cocking your head. “Could you make some coffee? Gonna be a long day.” You raise an eyebrow towards the Christmas tree, where all of Emma’s gifts sit perfectly arranged, and he nods. He can do that.

“Just three scoops of this,” he tells Emma, portioning out the coffee into the filter as she babbles at him from her perch in his other arm. “Mama likes it pretty strong, doesn’t she? And then some water, like this.” He pours the pitcher into the machine’s reservoir, flicking on the power and listening to the gurgle as he makes his way to the couch. He bounces Emma on his knee, little hands waving in the air, trying to grab the end of her hat and gnaw on it. The tree sparkles behind her, lights and ornaments all aglow, and she giggles when she tips herself forward, planting onto his chest with both hands. “Easy, baby girl.” Rolling onto her back in the crook of his arm, she squirms, smiling up at him, finger extended towards his chin. “What is it, eh?” He leans, and she pokes his cheek, cooing with a satisfied grunt. She fits so naturally in his side, just like you do, and he settles into the cushions, relaxing, allowing her to explore, tactile touch padding across his face, little fingernails scratching at his stubble.

“You two look cozy.” You murmur with a yawn, cup of coffee steaming in your palms. He smiles, and Emma lifts her head to look for you, tracking the sound of your voice. You perch at his other side, knees tucking up next to his hip, nestling your head against his shoulder, fingers tracing Emmaline’s cheek. “Whatcha doing sweet pea?” He brushes a kiss across the top of your head, and you sigh, arm wrapping around his stomach. "This is nice."

"It is." He agrees. It's more than nice, it's everything. Everything he didn't know was possible, everything he didn't know he wanted. It's nice, spending Christmas with his girls, cuddled up together on his couch in front of a Christmas tree that's loaded with presents for the baby. A Christmas, the holiday he used to shun… now brought back to life by you. Nice is a good word to describe it, but others flit through his mind as well: perfect, redeeming, salvation.

Purpose.

He takes a ragged breath, and you lean back to look at him, waiting.

"It's more than nice, sweetheart, it's... I... never thought, never dreamed this could happen in my life. You and Emmaline, you're... everything to me." He pauses, cradling your face, watching how your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "I want," he swallows the lump in his throat. "I want you to stay. I want you to be here. Always." He needs you to stay, needs you like he needs air to breathe, needs you like he's never needed, never wanted, anything before in his life. He'd give you the world, if he could, wrap it up nicely and put it beneath the tree, but he doesn't know how to say that, how to explain.

He's grateful he doesn't have to.

"I'll be here, Simon. I'll be right here. With you." You take his hand, clutching onto him tightly. It's selfish, what he wants. Stupid. But he's not a good man... he's yours, and he'll be as wicked, as awful as he must to keep you and Emmaline safe. You're the only good thing about him now, and he'd dig himself free from a shallow grave all over again, just to crawl home to you. You've changed him, deeply. Fundamentally. Taught him the truth of love, of healing, your grief not so much different from his own, and he knows he'd die for you, he'd die for you ten thousand times.

Emmaline babbles at the sound of your voice, and you smile at her, not bothering to wipe away the tear that tracks down your cheek. "We're here. We'll stay. As long as you want us."

And christ, if that isn't the best Christmas gift he's ever be given.

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #codholiday2023

[hairmetal666]

Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #getting back together #mutual pining #fluff #ficlet #part 2 #time jump #a tiny bit of angst #here's the happy ending #implied child abuse #part one was august i guess part two is the one #we were something don't you think so #and if my wishes came true it would've been you #jk eddie is the one #they're in love your honor #steve's parents are pieces of shit

[hockey-fics]

That Week in Vancouver ~ Quinn Hughes

(Pt. 2 of That Night in Michigan)

"You can just keep believing whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better about the way you treated me."

Word count: ~11,800

Warnings: some toxic behaviours (primarily arguing), drinking, language, smut.

A/N: there is a small potential for a part three, I have an idea for it but it depends on how motivated I am to keep going with this as a series. It's already gotten much longer than I ever intended it to.

“Do you have time to talk?”

There’s a silence that falls over the line that makes your heart race, your hands growing clammy. He had answered the phone at the very least, you had to hold onto some hope that he would be willing to have a conversation. It wasn’t a big ask, you didn’t need all day. You just needed a few minutes, a few minutes that could determine the outcome of your entire relationship.

“Quinn?” you whisper, unable to sit in the silence for any longer. 

“I don’t really have time,” Quinn tells you, his voice distant and cold. 

“Oh,” you mumble, your eyes prickling with tears. “When, um…when would you have time?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn replies quickly. “Things are kind of busy right now.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you blink quickly, trying to stop the onslaught of tears coming to your eyes. “Quinn, please,” you plead. 

“Sorry,” Quinn mumbles. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he croaks, the first indication that this wasn’t as easy for him as he was making it seem. 

Before you have the chance to say anything else the call ends, your heart sinking with it. Pulling your knees to your chest you feel a few tears slip from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. Wiping the tears from your face with your sleeve you struggle through a few deep breaths, your breath catching in your throat each time. Was this really how it was going to end? A lifetime of friendship. Years of feelings. All of that to end without so much as a conversation. 

You don’t know how long you sit there until eventually your body is so exhausted from crying that you climb off the couch, heading straight to bed. At least if you were asleep you could silence the never-ending stream of thoughts about you and Quinn. It doesn’t take long till you fall asleep that night, sleeping till late the next morning. 

When you finally pull yourself out of bed you take a shower, your body numb as you go about some sort of normal routine, unsure of what else to do. Standing in front of the coffee maker in your kitchen you stare at the drops of coffee splashing into the slowly filling pot. Your phone vibrates on the counter beside you and you glance over at it, opening the text message from Luke. 

‘if I get a dog would you look after it when we’re on the road?’

Sighing you read the message before locking your phone, setting it back down again to pour yourself a mug of coffee. As you’re stirring some cream into it you hear your phone vibrate again. 

‘at least turn your read receipts off if you’re going to ignore me’ 

Picking up your phone you quickly send him a message back. ‘sorry, just not having a great day’.

A second later your screen is filled with an incoming FaceTime call from Luke. Groaning quietly you slide to answer it as you walk into the living room. “Hi,” you say quietly, flopping down onto the couch. 

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, skipping past a greeting. 

“Nothing,” you mumble, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket that was tossed over the back of your couch. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright,” Luke drawls, clearly not convinced. “So will you look after my dog?”

You can’t help but giggle, rolling your eyes. Luke was always there for you when things weren’t going well, even if he didn’t always know the appropriate responses to your emotions. “I don’t know if you’re even responsible enough to take care of a dog when you are home.”

“I am,” Luke defends quickly. “I just have to feed him and walk him.”

“And train him and brush him and take him to the vet and the dog groomer and make sure he’s getting enough exercise.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do all that,” Luke says with a shrug. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” you say with a quiet laugh. “I’ll look after him when you’re on the road if you get a dog.”

“Thank you,” Luke replies, smiling happily. “Now tell me why you’re so sad.”

Sighing loudly you toss your head back dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. “Quinn won’t talk to me,” you state quickly, knowing that if you didn’t just say it you wouldn’t be able to get the words out. “I called him last night, he won’t talk to me.”

“What did he say?”

“Literally nothing,” you mumble. “He said he didn’t have time to talk and he’s too busy to talk later.”

“He’s just upset about you and Holtzy,” Luke explains, as if you were completely in the dark as to why Quinn didn’t want to talk to you. 

“I know, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” you exclaim, eyes flooding with tears again. “Sorry…I just…I don’t know what to do. I miss him.” Reaching up you quickly wipe away the tears that had pooled under your eyes. 

“I know,” Luke mutters, nodding slowly. “Are you doing anything today?” 

“Not really,” you tell him honestly, shrugging it off quickly. 

“Get ready, I’m going to pick you up.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Luke,” you mutter, sighing quietly. 

“You just want to sit there and cry alone all day?”

“Oh my god,” you whine, shaking your head. “Leave me alone.”

“I’ll be there in like forty-five minutes,” Luke tells you, hanging up before you can argue against it. 

Sighing you pull yourself off the couch, finding an outfit for whatever this mysterious outing was. You busy yourself getting ready until Luke texts you, telling you he was there. Hurrying out of your apartment you find him idling on the street in front of your apartment building, hopping into his car. “Hi,” you greet, pulling your seatbelt on. 

“Hey,” Luke replies, waiting till you were situated in your seat before pulling back out onto the road. “Do you want like a coffee or something?”

“You’re trying really hard, aren’t you?” you tease, giggling quietly. 

“Yeah, I don’t want you to be sad,” Luke tells you. “But if you keep making fun of me I might stop.”

“No, please don’t,” you laugh. “Yeah, I’d love a coffee.” 

Luke takes you to your favourite coffee shop, after you gave him step by step instructions of how to get there. With a latte in hand you climb back into Luke’s car, still unsure of where he was planning to take you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“It’s a surprise,” Luke tells you with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m scared,” you joke, taking a sip of your coffee as you look out the window, trying to figure out where you could possibly be headed. 

Shortly after Luke pulls into the parking lot of a large building, your eyes focusing on the sign out front. “You’re unbelievable,” you laugh, looking at the animal shelter in front of you. 

“Come on, you know that seeing dogs is going to cheer you up.”

You follow Luke out of the car and towards the building. “We’re not leaving here with a dog, Luke,” you warn, stepping inside as Luke holds the door open for you. 

After talking briefly with the woman at the front counter she guides you through the building to the dog kennels. “Looking to expand the family?” she asks with a friendly smile.

“What?” Luke asks cluelessly. 

“No…we’re not, um, we’re-,” you begin. 

“Ew,” Luke mutters. 

Looking over at him you narrow your eyes, scoffing. “Well you don’t have to act like it would be disgusting,” you joke. “We’re just friends, he’s looking for a dog, I’m just the designated pet-sitter.”

“Well it’s always good to have a pet-sitter lined up,” she says uncertainly. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two to take a look, let me know if you have any questions.”

Walking over to one of the kennels you look at the tag on the door, reading it over. “Muffins,” you gush, looking at the small dog in the kennel. “His name is Muffins,” you repeat. 

“Muffins is ugly,” Luke mutters from behind you, staring at the little dog with scraggly fur, bulging eyes, tear stains on his white fur. Reaching over you playfully whack Luke’s arm. “Don’t be mean to Muffins,” you scold. 

“Look at this one,” Luke says, drawing your attention away from Muffins and to the large lab in the next kennel over. 

“You’re so predictable,” you tease, reading the description of Dewey the lab. The two of you wander along the rows of kennels, fighting against falling in love with each and every one of the dogs. By the time you were leaving that afternoon you were covered in dog fur, no longer quite as sad as you had been when you woke up that morning. 

Sitting in the car with Luke he scrolls through the pictures that he had taken of the dogs, clearly wanting to go back in and adopt one right then and there. Leaning over you look through the pictures with him, stopping him when he gets to a picture he took of you and one of the puppies. “Can you send that to me?” 

“So you can post it on instagram?” Luke teases. 

“Shut up,” you wine, rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

Luke chuckles, sending you the picture before setting his phone down. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who dragged me out.” Saving the photo to your phone you open instagram, adding the picture to your story with the caption ‘puppies really do make bad days better’, tagging Luke in the corner. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Luke says, pulling out of the parking lot. “Are you still going to pretend you didn’t have fun?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Thank you, Luke…I do feel a bit better.”

“Good.” Luke turns down another street, seemingly on the way back to your apartment. “Quinn’s just an idiot,” Luke says suddenly. “He’ll come around, I promise.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, glancing over at Luke. “I think this is different.”

“Why?”

Shrugging you look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. “Because he’s never been like this before. He’s never been mean to me before, he’s never said things like…that.”

“What did he say?”

“He basically called me a whore…I mean, not directly, but it was easy enough to figure out what he meant. He said that I don’t think about anyone other than myself and that he’s done with me.”

Luke is quiet for a few seconds before looking over at you when he stops at a red light. “What?” he finally mutters. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling quietly. “Maybe it really is just time to move on. I just…I love him so much, I don’t know…it’s hard.”

“He’s an asshole,” Luke mutters under his breath. “I didn’t know that’s what he said to you,” Luke admits. 

“I didn’t really want to talk about it,” you tell him with a shrug. “I mean, I guess maybe he’s right, maybe I was flirting with everyone, I don’t know. I’d take it all back, it never even meant anything to me, I didn’t realize it was affecting him like that…I just…I just want him back. Maybe things will never be more than they were before, maybe we’re not meant to be together or anything but to lose him altogether, as a friend…I can’t handle that.” You hadn’t even realized how quick your breathing had grown, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping the tears from your face. 

“You’re fine,” Luke assures you, glancing over with a smile so full of pity that it makes you want to hurl yourself out of the car. “Can I, um, can I do anything to help?”

Choking out a breath of laughter between your shaky breaths you shake your head. “No, I don’t think anyone can do anything to help.”

Luke turns into the parking lot of your apartment building, pulling into one of the visitor spots. “Well can I at least come hang out for a bit?”

“I’m not going to say no,” you tell him, picking your purse up from the floor of his car. “But you really don’t have to stay just because I’m sad.”

“You know that I actually like spending time with you, right? I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m doing you a favour.”

“I just don’t think that I’m that fun to be around right now.” Climbing out of his car you fish your keys from your purse, guiding Luke into the building. 

“Remember when I had the flu and you spent like a week taking care of me?” Luke asks as he watches you press the button for the elevator. “Was I fun then?”

“I mean it was kinda funny,” you say with a playful smile. “I would never have expected a little flu to take you down so easily.”

“It was bad,” Luke defends, chuckling as he leans against the wall of the elevator. 

A few minutes later the doors slide open and you guide Luke to your apartment, kicking off your shoes and heading for the couch. Luke joins you a minute later, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “What do you want to watch?”

“You’re actually going to let me pick?” you ask in shock. 

“You’re the one who’s sad,” Luke reminds you, handing the remote to you. 

You pick your favourite show on Netflix, pulling your legs up onto the couch and curling up in the corner. You watch the show in silence for a few minutes before looking over at Luke, watching him type something on his phone. “Do you think he ever loved me?” you whisper, a feeling of shame washing over you for even asking the question, of wanting that reassurance. 

Luke is quiet for a minute, as if he wasn’t sure how he should reply, like you were a ticking time bomb waiting for the next thing to set you off. “Yes.”

Nodding slowly you turn your attention back to the tv, your vision blurry as you stare through a layer of tears. You didn’t know what else to say, didn’t want to talk about anything else yet you didn’t want to talk about it either. So you remained silent, watching episode after episode till you were beginning to drift to sleep. 

“Hey,” Luke whispers, gently shaking your shoulder. 

Inhaling sharply your eyes fly open, glancing around in a tired shock. “Hm?” you hum. “What time is it?…How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours,” Luke tells you with a shrug. “I’m going to go home now though, I have practice in the morning. Do you want to come? I’ll give you my bed again.”

Shaking your head you sit up, blinking tiredly. “No, no, that’s okay…thank you though.”

“Are you sure? Are you going to be okay alone?”

“Luke, I’m fine,” you assure him, swinging your legs off the edge of the couch. Standing up you pull him into a hug, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming over today. Text me when you get home, okay?”

Luke waits for you to pull away first before saying goodbye, heading out to drive back to his place. After waking up a bit more you find something for dinner, calling your best friend to talk, needing to get out of your head. You end up talking with her for most of the evening before heading to bed rather early, the intense emotions of the last couple days catching up with you.

The next morning you wake up early, trying to keep yourself busy so that you didn’t fall into the same sadness that you felt the day before. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life wallowing. After having breakfast you take your coffee and grab your laptop, heading to the living room to sit on the couch. You pay a few bills before opening your email, your eyes narrowing in on one email from 1:46am. 

Flight Confirmation. 

Nervously clicking on it you scroll down, confusion building when you see that it was indeed a flight booked under your name. Then your eyes fall to the destination. Vancouver. Glancing at the date you realize it’s for next weekend, your heart racing. 

Picking up your phone you dial the number of the only person you thought would be buying you a flight to Vancouver. You listen to the dial tone for so long you begin to wonder if he wasn’t going to answer at all. 

“Hi?” Quinn mutters, his voice groggy and tired. 

Looking at the clock you realize how early it still was in Vancouver. “Shit, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“It’s fine,” Quinn mumbles. “Did you get the email?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your eyes not leaving the screen of your laptop. “Why?”

“Because I’m sorry,” Quinn says quietly. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you, I shouldn’t have treated you like that and I want to see you. If the date doesn’t work I can change the flight, just let me know when, I figured you have weekends off so I thought it would be better to pick a weekend but I know the flight is Friday morning so if you can’t leave that day I can just-.”

“This weekend is perfect,” you interrupt. “I’m sorry too, Quinn, I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn assures you. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you reply, not expecting your voice to grow shaky in the way it did. “I can let you get back to sleep now.”

“No, it’s okay, I was going to get up soon anyway.”

“Okay,” you whisper, still staring at the flight details on your laptop screen. “You didn’t need to buy me a first-class ticket, Quinn.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Quinn tells you quietly. “You’re going to let Luke get a dog?”

You can’t help but laugh at the question, pushing your laptop off your lap and curling up on the couch, staring out the window across the room. “I can’t really stop him…you’re his big brother though, maybe you should talk him out of it,” you tell him. “How long has he been talking about this?”

“Not long,” Quinn mumbles. “We talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” you whisper, wondering if wanting a dog was the only thing that Luke talked to Quinn about. “About a dog?”

Quinn is quiet for a little too long, your palms growing clammy, realizing that the answer probably wasn’t yes. “About you,” Quinn finally admits. “I um, I saw the Instagram story and called him. I just, uh…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And he told you I’m not?” you ask, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Not exactly,” Quinn replies. “He did make sure that I knew I was an asshole…not that I didn’t already know that.”

“If you already knew that why have you been refusing to talk to me, Quinn?”

Quinn sighs heavily, silence falling over the line. “Because I was hurt,” Quinn mumbles. “I was hurt and jealous and I don’t know…I just didn’t want to admit that. I’m sorry.”

You wanted to forgive him, wanted to tell him that it was okay. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay the way he treated you in Michigan, it wasn’t okay the way that the situation had played out since. Dismissing it, telling him it was fine, you knew that wasn’t going to help the situation. You needed to talk about it, to really discuss it. Maybe he was right in booking you the flight, maybe this just wasn’t a conversation that you could have over the phone. 

“What should I pack for Vancouver?” you whisper, doing your best to change the topic. 

Quinn hesitates a moment, clearly taken aback by the 180 degree change in the conversation. He tells you the plan for the weekend, primarily just that he had a game on Saturday, though he assured you that you didn’t need to go if you didn’t want to. You told him you did, making a mental note to add an outfit to wear to the game to your list. 

You talked on the phone for nearly an hour before Quinn had to go, not wanting to be late for practice. You spend the rest of the day preparing for the week ahead, grocery shopping, meal prepping, laundry, all the chores that kept your mind busy. 

The week went by slowly, each work day feeling never-ending. The closer you got to your 6am Friday flight the closer your anxiety gets to overtaking your excitement. Of course you wanted to see Quinn, wanted to make up for the months of not even speaking to each other. But you also knew that the point of this trip was to talk about what had happened, a conversation you were dreading having. 

Friday morning you wake up at 4am, collecting your luggage and climbing into an Uber half asleep. You’re not fully awake till you’re on the plane, the six hours ahead of you seeming like they were going to stretch on forever. 

By the time you landed in Vancouver your heart was hammering so heavily you were worried you might just drop dead of a heart attack right then and there. Your hands were shaky and clammy as you wiggled your carry-on out of the overhead compartment. You follow everyone off the plane, down the long hallway and to the arrivals area of the airport. 

Weaving your way through everyone around you stopping to greet their loved ones your eyes scan the crowd of people still waiting. When your eyes land on Quinn you nearly stop walking altogether, your heart stopping for a moment. Three months of not even talking to him made it feel like years of not seeing him. Hesitantly you force yourself closer, not knowing what to expect when you get to him. But as soon as you’re close enough Quinn has his arms around you, pulling you close against him. 

“Hi,” you whisper, fingers curling into the fabric of Quinn’s hoodie. 

“Hi,” Quinn replies, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “How was your flight?”

“Really good,” you reply. “I’ve never flown first-class before.”

“I’ll make sure you only ever fly first-class from now on.”

“Stop,” you giggle, shaking your head. “A seat on a flight is good enough for me…especially if it means I get to see you.”

“I love you,” Quinn whispers in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. You had been telling each other you loved each other since childhood. In the same way that you told Jack and Luke that you loved them. But your love for Quinn was so different and you weren’t sure what his admission of love entailed. “Should we go get your suitcase?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, nodding quickly, thankful that Quinn had said something to break you from your train of thoughts. Heading to the baggage carousel you wait till you see your suitcase, dragging it off the carousel. 

Quinn swoops in quickly, taking your bag from you. “Ready to go?” Quinn asks, gesturing towards the door. 

Nodding you follow Quinn through the airport and out into the cool air outside, rain drops hammering onto the sidewalk. “People weren’t lying about how much it rains here,” you comment. 

“You can wait here, I’ll bring the car around,” Quinn offers. 

Shaking your head you step closer to Quinn. “No, it’s just rain, I’ll survive.”

Quinn slides his jacket off quickly, wrapping it around your shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your eyes locking with his as he keeps his hands on the jacket wrapped around you. You slide your arms into the sleeves when you realize Quinn is not about to take the jacket back. “Thank you,” you tell him, pulling the fabric around your body. The jacket smells like Quinn, his body wash or cologne or maybe just his laundry detergent, but whatever it was it was it felt comforting, familiar. 

Quinn picks up your suitcase again and you follow him through the parking lot, quickly climbing into the dry car. Quinn is in the driver’s seat a moment later, starting the car before looking over at you. “Thanks for coming.”

“I just want to figure this out,” you say quietly, pulling your seatbelt on. Glancing over at Quinn for a moment before you turn your attention back to the drops of rain landing on the windshield. “I can’t lose you, Quinn.”

Quinn reaches over, his hand sliding into yours, squeezing it gently. “I know I fucked up, but I promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

Sniffling quietly you nod slowly, not entirely sure you believed him. Sure, you were here with him now. But it seemed so easy for him just weeks ago, to tell you that he simply didn’t have any time to talk. 

“I’m sorry,” Quinn adds, squeezing your hand again before shifting the car into drive, pulling out of the parking spot. 

You remain silent through the entirety of the drive, your mind racing with thoughts that brought tears to your eyes. You knew what was coming. You knew you needed to have a real conversation about what had happened in Michigan, about what was going to happen now. But you didn’t know how it would go, didn’t know what Quinn would say about it, and you were scared that somehow, someway, it would only make things worse. 

When you get to Quinn’s apartment building you follow him inside, sliding his jacket off your body and hanging it in the closet by the door. You had never been to his apartment before, almost all of your time together was spent in Michigan. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat or drink?” Quinn asks, walking into the kitchen.

Shaking your head you rest your hands on the counter, looking over at him. “I think we should talk.”

Quinn nods, sighing quietly. “Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding towards the living room. “Should we go sit down?”

“Sure.” Turning around you walk to the living room, sitting on one end of the large couch. Lifting your legs onto the couch you pull them to your chest, wrapping your arms around them in an attempt to comfort yourself. “I don’t really know what to say,” you admit. 

“Me neither,” Quinn agrees, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward, eyes focusing on the living room floor. “I know it’s not an excuse but I was so drunk that night,” Quinn begins, glancing over at you. “And I see the way people look at you, the way everyone just falls for you, which I get, but, I don’t know…it’s hard. Seeing you with Alex that day, on the dock, I was jealous,” Quinn rambles.

Nodding slowly you dig your fingers into your legs, forcing deep breaths into your lungs. “But you didn’t have to be so mean to me, Quinn. We could have just talked about it.”

“I know,” Quinn replies quickly, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I don’t have an excuse, I was hurt and drunk.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you whisper, your eyes prickling with tears again. You had never cried so much in such a short period of time, had never expected to. “You know that, right?”

Quinn shrugs, his elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward to stare at the ground. “Yeah, I mean, I guess.”

“Quinn,” you croak. “What do you mean you guess? I promise the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”

“Then why did you do it?” Quinn snaps, turning his head to look over at you. 

“I-,” you begin, shaking your head. “I don’t know, I really didn’t mean to, nothing I said or did with them meant anything, it was just-.”

“No?” Quinn interrupts with a scoff. “Nothing you did with Alex meant anything?”

“It wasn’t-,” you begin before getting interrupted again. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Quinn interjects. “I’m not that fucking stupid. I saw your stories with him, I know when you were going out with Jack and Luke that Alex was there too. I know you went home with him after you guys went out drinking. If you’re going to sit there and tell me that none of that meant anything then maybe none of the stuff you said to me meant anything either.”

“That’s not true,” you plead, eyes glossy with tears. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Quinn. I’m sorry, I really am. Yeah, Alex and I were hanging out but that doesn’t mean what I said to you wasn’t true.”

“If it was true you wouldn’t be fucking one of my friends,” Quinn mutters. 

Swallowing heavily you wipe away your tears, shaking your head. “You’re such an asshole,” you mumble under your breath. 

“I’m the asshole?” Quinn snaps. 

“Yes,” you exclaim, dropping your legs off the couch and standing up quickly. “You called me a whore, Quinn. You said such horrible things and now you have the audacity to get mad at me when I started spending time with someone who actually was nice to me after all that.”

“I did not call you a whore,” Quinn defends, staring up at you from where he was still sitting on the edge of the couch. "I would never say that."

“Maybe you didn’t use that word but how do you think I would take you telling me that I’m flirting with everyone, that I want the attention of every single man around? Do you know how bad that hurt, Quinn? You’re telling me that you’re not sure if you believe I didn’t mean to hurt you but you’re not acknowledging how much you hurt me.”

Quinn is quiet for a few seconds, his eyes falling back to the ground, not looking you in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Maybe you should have thought about someone other than yourself then,” you tell him, repeating his words from that night in Michigan back to him. Maybe you shouldn’t be so petty. Maybe you should have been the bigger person. Maybe you should have let it go. But your heart was racing, your hands clammy, your mind scattered in a million directions and a part of you selfishly wanted him to feel the way you felt that night. 

Quinn visibly flinches in response to your words, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” Quinn breathes out. 

You were already on your way towards his front door, body moving faster than your mind. Grabbing your purse you toss it onto your shoulder, yanking the same jacket Quinn had let you wear earlier off the hanger in the closet. 

“Where are you going?” Quinn asks, hopping up from the couch and hurrying over to you. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, spinning towards the front door. Your hand lands on the door handle just seconds before Quinn is wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Don’t,” you mumble, yanking your hand away from him. “And for the record, I didn’t sleep with Alex. I’ve never fucked any of your friends. But you can just keep believing whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better about the way you treated me.” Yanking the door open you head out into the hallway, finding the stairs and hurrying down them. 

Outside the rain is still pouring heavily from the sky and you begin walking quickly, continuing till you find a coffee shop. Inside you pull the soaking jacket from your body, laying it over your arm and heading to the till. After ordering yourself a coffee you find a seat tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, watching the cars passing, the rain drops bouncing off the sidewalk. 

You’re not there long before your phone begins vibrating. First with a call from Quinn. Then a text message. Then a couple more calls and a few more texts. Sure, you probably should have replied, but your mind was still racing a million miles an hour. All of your thoughts were so incredibly cloudy that you didn't even know what to say if you were to reply.

Eventually, long after your coffee cup is empty, your phone rings and this time it’s Jack. Sighing you slide to answer it, bringing the phone to your ear. “Hi,” you say quietly. 

“Hi,” Jack replies with an audible sigh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him honestly, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on your paper cup. 

“Where are you? What’s going on? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m in a coffee shop, Jack, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Quinn is freaking out,” Jack tells you. “Can you please just call him?”

“No,” you mumble, watching a man walking by with his dog, the dog’s hair plastered to their body with rain. “I want to come home, Jack.”

“Oh my god,” Jack groans. “You two are so fucking annoying.” 

“Fuck you,”  you whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody in the quiet coffee shop could hear you. “Why would you say that? I haven’t done anything.”

“Both of you need to get over what happened in Michigan,” Jack tells you. 

“Tell him that,” you mutter, rolling your eyes to nobody but yourself at that table. 

“I did,” Jack exclaims. There’s a few seconds of silence after he says it, unable to think of anything to say. Because he was right, you both needed to be honest. You both did and said things you wished you hadn’t, both made mistakes. “Do you want me to book you a flight home?” Jack finally asks. 

“No, it’s okay…thank you though.”

“So are you going to go back to Quinn’s place or do you want me to book you a hotel room?”

“I could book my own hotel room if I wanted to,” you tell him with a quiet sigh.

“You’re always complaining that you’re broke,” Jack comments.

“I know how much money you make, Jack, I’m broke in comparison.”

“I’m never buying you drinks again,” Jack replies with a chuckle. 

“Please,” you say with a giggle. 

“If you go talk to Quinn and figure out whatever is going on with you two and leave me out it, then I’ll consider buying your drinks when we go out again.”

“Fine,” you whine playfully. “What do I even say to him?”

“I don’t know, just go talk to him. I’m sure you two will figure it out.”

“I’m scared,” you admit. 

“Why are you scared?” Jack asks, a sudden intensity in his tone.

“What if he never forgives me?”

“Just go talk to him,” Jack sighs. “He’s losing his mind right now, just go talk to him.”

“Fine, I’ll go back,” you groan. Standing up you pick up Quinn’s jacket from the back of the chair, pulling it on. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in this,” you tell Jack, picking up your empty coffee cup to toss it into the garbage on the way out the door. 

“It’s fine,” Jack assures you. “Just figure this out, okay?”

“Okay…we’ll try,” you tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck,” Jack says. 

“Thank you,” you say with a sigh, stepping outside. “Bye, Jack,” you say before hanging up. Hurrying through the rain you make your way back to Quinn’s apartment, stopping outside to text him to let him know you were back. 

Quinn is down in the lobby a second later, letting you inside. “I’m sorry,” Quinn says as a greeting, reaching over and pulling you into his arms. Your jacket is soaked, seeping into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Let’s just go upstairs,” you mumble, though if you were being honest the last thing you wanted to do was let go of him. 

Quinn pulls back, guiding you back into his apartment. You’re quiet as you pull off the jacket, kicking your shoes off a second later. Following Quinn back to the living room you slowly sit down, sighing quietly. “I talked to Jack.”

“I figured,” Quinn mumbles, sitting down across from you. “I’m really sorry.”

“Me too,” you mumble, looking across the couch at him. “I-,” you begin, eyes filling with tears again. “I don’t know how to deal with this, Quinn, I can’t lose you. I love you so much. I don’t know…I don’t know what to do.”

Quinn slides closer to you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you too,” Quinn tells you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Nodding slowly you clutch at Quinn’s arms, holding him tight against you. “I’m sorry for everything I did, everything I said. I promise I’ll never talk to you like that again. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, I know what I did was horrible.”

“I do,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him. “I do forgive you, Quinn. I know you’re sorry, I really do. I just need you to stop holding me flirting with other people over me. We weren’t together. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize the way it was making you feel, I really am. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I wasn’t doing it to make you feel bad.”

Quinn reaches down, taking your hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I know we weren’t together, I know you weren’t doing anything wrong and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reaching up to wipe away a few tears that had slipped from your eyes. You weren’t even sure why you were crying anymore. Relief, exhaustion, an overwhelming level of emotions. “What now?”

Quinn shrugs, glancing over at the TV. “Do you want to go somewhere? Or do you want to just stay here and hang-out?”

“Stay here,” you tell him laughing quietly. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your eyes were swollen and red, that your skin was splotchy from all the tears you had shed. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Quinn assures you, reaching over and picking up the remote. He hands it to you before leaning back on the couch, watching as you turn the tv on. “We can order dinner too, just let me know when.”

Picking up your phone you look at the time. It had been a long day but you were still shocked to see that it was nearing 6pm already. You pick a show, watching an episode before the two of you order dinner. The rest of the evening goes by quickly, most of it spent in relative silence as you watch a few more episodes of the show you had put on. 

Eventually Quinn shows you to the guest room and you change into some pyjamas before settling into the bed. You fall asleep easily that night. Maybe it really was just because the bed was so comfortable, but you’re sure there was more to it than that. 

When you wake up the next morning Quinn is already gone for morning skate, a note on the kitchen counter letting you know he would be back that afternoon. The note also told you that there was coffee in the cupboard and to help yourself to anything else you wanted. You were almost certain he bought the coffee specifically for you, something you confirmed when you found it unopened in the cupboard. After making yourself a cup you head to the living room, watching TV while waiting for him to get home. 

The sound of the front door opening draws your attention just a little after 12pm. “Hey,” Quinn greets, walking over to sit on the couch next to you. “How was your morning? I didn’t want to wake you before I left.”

“It was good, I slept in, that bed is really comfortable,” you tell him, moving closer and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his arms circle around you, pulling you closer. 

“It’s not bad,” Quinn says with a chuckle. “My bed is better.”

“Are you bragging? Because I am your guest and that’s kind of rude,” you tease, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. 

“Maybe a bit…but I’m not stopping you from sleeping in it with me so I don't think it's that rude.”

“I don’t know, the last time I slept in a bed with you seemed like the beginning of the whole disaster,” you joke. 

“Too soon,” Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. He stands up and reaches down, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. “Come on.”

“Where?” you ask, though you’re in his bedroom before he has the chance to answer you. You watch him lay down on one side of the bed, gesturing for you to take the other side. Walking over you lay down beside him, rolling onto your side to face him. “It is really comfy,” you admit. 

“I wasn’t lying,” he tells you with a chuckle. "I do need to have a nap before the game though."

"That's why you brought me in here? To break the new sthat you need to have a nap?"

"Kinda," Quinn admits. "And because I did actually want to brag about the bed."

Rolling your eyes playfully you sit up, looking down at him. "Okay, Grandpa. What 24-year-old gets this excited about a bed?"

"It was expensive," Quinn exclaims.

"I'm sure it was," you reply with a giggle. "Do you want me to tuck you in for your nap before I go or are you okay all by yourself?"

"Get outta here," Quinn jokes, shaking his head.

Giggling you climb off the bed, heading back to the living room to continue keeping yourself busy for the afternoon. It wasn't hard, after an episode of your favourite show you head to the bathroom, finding a towel and hopping into the shower. By the time you're out of the shower Quinn is already up, startling you as you step out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

"You scared me," you breathe out, clutching the towel to your naked body.

"It's my apartment," Quinn says with a chuckle. "Why are you not expecting me to be here?"

"I thought you'd still be napping. Must need a lot of beauty sleep to look that cute," you tease, stepping past him towards the bedroom.

"We can't all just be naturally cute like you," he comments before you disappear behind the closed door of the guest bedroom. It was such an insignificant comment but you couldn't stop your stomach from filling with butterflies regardless.

Later that afternoon you're in the bathroom, running your fingers through your hair, fixing it slightly. Your eyes shift over your shoulder, seeing Quinn appear in the mirror behind you. Your lips curl into a soft smile, eyes drifting up and down his body. Quinn was always attractive to you but you were more used to Quinn in a t-shirt and shorts at the lake than Quinn in a suit before a game. 

“You look good,” you tell him, turning around to look at him. Leaning back against the counter you watch Quinn walk closer. “Very handsome,” you add, running your fingers over the lapels of his suit jacket once he’s close enough to you. 

“You look good too,” Quinn mumbles, his hands landing on your hips. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, swallowing heavily. “Can’t believe this is the first time I get to see you play in Vancouver.”

“Hopefully it won’t be the last,” Quinn replies, stepping close enough to cause your heart to hammer heavily in your chest. “You sure you’re going to be okay to get there alone tonight?”

“I’m positive,” you whisper, your eyes flicking down to his lips. Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest you were sure it was about to burst. “Good luck tonight,” you whisper. 

Quinn smiles softly, leaning in a little closer. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against yours. You could feel your breath catch in your throat, your hands running up his chest, resting you arms over his shoulders. Just seconds before your lips touch his your phone rings loudly on the counter beside you, making you jump. 

Laughing you pull back, pressing your hand over your heart. “Oh my god,” you breathe out, reaching over to silence your phone. “Sorry,” you add with a sheepish smile. “Really ruined the moment there.”

Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead quickly. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You couldn’t deny the disappointment you were feeling that the moment really was ending this way. But you knew that Quinn said he was already running late and you weren’t about to make him any later. “Okay,” you whisper, watching him turn around and head out of the bathroom. 

You order yourself dinner after Quinn leaves, hanging out by yourself until you needed to head to the arena. The sky is dark already as you climb into the Uber outside Quinn’s apartment building, pulling your seatbelt on. 

“Going to the Canucks game?” you Uber driver asks you, looking at you through the mirror. 

“Yeah,” you tell him with a nod and a friendly smile. “First Canucks game here.”

“First game ever?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “No, I’ve been to a few before. Never in Vancouver though.”

“Oh, really? Who’d you see play before?”

“Mostly the Devils,” you tell him, realizing the more information you gave the more you would need to explain. “I’m just here visiting a friend.”

“You’re from New Jersey?”

“No, I live in New York now.”

You watch him glance back at you, clearly not following along. “Something against the Rangers?”

“I guess you could say that,” you tell him with a shrug. You’re at the arena shortly after, heading in and finding your seat.

The game passes quickly, your attention on Quinn throughout the entirety of the game. It was different than watching Jack and Luke play. It felt more intense, like the outcome of the game would somehow be an indicator of the outcome of this entire trip.

When the game ends and the Canucks win with a score of 4-2 you can't help but feel a mixture of relief and happiness. It really did feel like a good omen of sorts.

You wait around the arena after the game, doing your best to fill the time till Quinn was ready to leave. You scroll though Instagram, liking post after post till you hit the point of not having a single new thing to look at. Eventually Quinn finds you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Congratulations,” you whisper, not pulling back. “You’re even more impressive to watch in person.”

Quinn laughs at your comment, shaking his head. He had always been humble, refusing to accept your compliments. “Do you want to go out for a drink or something? I know it’s kind of late but you flew all the way up here, I don’t want you to just have to stay in my apartment the whole time.”

Giggling you lean up closer, your hands on his shoulders. “I’d be fine staying in your apartment with you the whole time.” You lean in a little closer, lips almost brushing against his. “Doing anything with you,” you whisper. 

“You coming out with us or what?” someone calls, making you jump back from Quinn, turning in the direction of the voice. 

Quinn places his hands on your hips, pulling your body back against him. “No, I think we’re just going to do our thing.”

The man in front of you chuckles, shooting Quinn a knowing look. “Sounds good, man, see you later,” he says before heading off in the other direction. 

Giggling you spin around, looking up at Quinn. “Well, where are we going for drinks?”

Quinn reaches his hand down, sliding it into yours. “It’s a surprise,” he tells you. Guiding you out of the arena and to his car Quinn opens the passenger door for you. You climb into the car, pulling on your seatbelt. A few minutes later you’re on your way, heading downtown. 

The lounge Quinn takes you to is small and intimate. The table you’re seated at is equally as intimate, tucked away in the back of the restaurant. Opening the menu your eyes scan over the options, more specifically the prices on that menu. Glancing over at Quinn you watch him look at the menu himself. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the money for the drinks, you just never would have picked a place so expensive yourself. You had also never seen this side of Quinn. You weren’t oblivious, you knew he had money. But you were so used to him with a bottle of some middle-of-the-road beer he picked up at the liquor store on the way to the lake house that you could barely picture him ordering a $25 cocktail.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Quinn asks before looking up from the menu, an uncertain smile on his face when he realizes that you're already looking at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head as you look back to the menu. “No, I’m not sure yet. What are you getting?”

“A sazerac, probably,” Quinn tells you with a shrug, the menu already closed letting you know it was most likely more than just probably. 

“What’s that?” you whisper, your eyes scanning the menu again.

“Whisky,” Quinn tells you with a quiet chuckle. “Kind of like an old fashioned.”

“Right,” you drawl, nodding slowly. You couldn’t say you were that familiar with the old fashioned either but at least you knew what it was. “I think I’ll try the clover club.”

A few minutes later you order your drinks and you lean back in your chair, gazing across the table at Quinn. Was this a date? You hadn’t even stopped long enough to consider that possibility. You had gone out so, so many times before that you didn’t think the suggestion to go out this time was anything different than that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Quinn asks uncertainly. 

“You,” you whisper, with a small shrug. “Us,” you add a moment later. 

“What are you thinking about us?” Quinn presses, leaning a little closer. 

“I don’t really know,” you admit, glancing down at the table for a second. “Do you think there’ll ever be an us to really think about?”

Quinn swallows heavily, silence falling between the two of you as he stares across the small table at you. His silence makes you nervous, shifting in your chair under the intensity of his gaze. “I hope so,” he eventually tells you. 

“I-,” you begin, your sentence getting cut short as your server returns with your drinks. She sets a coupe glass in front of you filled with a pink liquid, three perfect raspberries balanced across the top of the glass on a cocktail skewer. “It’s so cute.”

“It’s fitting,” Quinn says, picking up his glass and taking a drink of his own cocktail. 

You can’t hold back your smile at Quinn’s comment, rolling your eyes playfully. “Okay, Casanova,” you tease. 

“Am I not allowed to flirt with you now?” 

Giggling you shake your head, “of course you can,” you tell him before picking up your glass and taking a sip. It’s stronger than you expected, catching you off guard as you slowly set it back down. Maybe that’s why they were so expensive. “I asked for some time off work before I came out here,” you say suddenly, watching Quinn closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Of course it had been presumptuous of you to take the time off before discussing it, but you had the vacation days anyway and you had assumed two days probably wouldn’t feel like long enough. 

“Yeah?” Quinn says, reaching over and taking your hand, running his thumb across the back of it. “Does that mean you’re staying longer?”

Shrugging you stare down at your interlocked hands. “Depends if you want me to stay.”

“Of course…I don’t want you to leave yet,” Quinn tells you with a reassuring squeeze of your hand. 

“Good, because I don’t want to leave yet either,” you tell him. Picking up your glass you take another sip of your drink, the liquid going down a lot smoother now that you were expecting it. 

The two of you sit there at that table for hours, over multiple drinks and a couple appetizers. Your conversation is comfortable, the issues that had brought you to Vancouver in the first place no longer seeming so heavy or intense. Quinn pays the bill at the end of the night and your previous thoughts about the possibility of the evening being a date come flooding back into your mind. 

Walking back into Quinn’s apartment you kick off your shoes, sliding your jacket off. “Thank you for tonight,” you say as you hang your jacket in the coat closet. 

Quinn glances over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Thanks for what?”

Shrugging you lean against the wall behind you. “I don’t know…taking me out, showing me a bit of Vancouver, paying for the bill.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Quinn assures you. “I wanted to.”

Reaching over you take Quinn’s hands in yours and pull him in front of you. “Just take the thank you, Quinn,” you whisper. 

“Okay, fine…you’re welcome,” Quinn mumbles, staring down at you. 

There’s an intensity in the moment, a heaviness in the air. Your heart was racing so fast, stomach filled with butterflies. The apartment is silent, so silent you begin to wonder if Quinn can hear it all. The shakiness in your breath, the hammering of your heart in your chest. The apartment is dim, lit by a single warm lightbulb a few feet away. Your eyes gravitate down to his lips and this time you don’t care how obvious it is. 

He begins to lean in and your patience quickly wears thing, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to press your lips to his. His hands land on your hips, pulling them closer to him, your shoulder blades pressing back into the wall. Sliding your hand up you tangle your fingers in his hair, your tongue brushing against his. His grasp on your hips tightens, a quiet moan slipping from your lips. 

Your mind was hazy, your emotions overwhelming. Your body was begging for more, his hands on your body felt intoxicating. Sliding your arm over his shoulder you lean your body further into him, desperate to be as close to him as you could, desperate for more. When you pull away it’s to catch your breath, steady the racing of your heart. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips. 

“I love you too,” Quinn replies, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. He’s smiling when he pulls back, reaching down to take your hand. He guides you into the living room, sitting down and pulling you down beside him. He places his hand on your thigh, fingers just a little too high for your mind not to be filled with less-than-PG thoughts. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I, um, y-yeah,” you stammer. Quinn knows what he’s doing and you can tell by the smirk on his lips as he hands you the remote. Taking it from him you put something on the TV, the very first movie you could find that seemed alright. 

You’re not watching the movie long before you feel Quinn’s fingers move on your thigh, a heavy breath escaping your lips. Your eyes flicker down to this hand, watching him brush his thumb on your leg. When you turn your attention to Quinn you see that he’s not watching the movie at all, his eyes are locked on you.

Pushing his hand off your thigh you swing your leg over his body, your hands resting on his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him. It’s fast and eager, your back arching as you roll your hips forward. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes out as he pulls back. “Baby, you’re…,” he begins, cutting himself off with a strangled moan. You didn’t need him to finish the sentence, you knew what you were doing when you felt him growing hard beneath you. 

His hands slide underneath your shirt, his fingers warm against your skin as he slides them up your waist. Pulling back you let him tug your shirt off, dropping it onto the ground beside you. Quinn leans closer, pressing his lips to yours as he unhooks your bra. You feel your bra come undone and you pull back. Your eyes lock with Quinn’s as you slowly slide the bra down your arms. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had seen you naked, but this time it was different. This time you were inviting him to do far more than just skinny dip with you. 

Setting the bra down Quinn places his hands on your waist, sliding further down towards the edge of the couch. Leaning in your lips lock with his again, your body begging for more. “Quinn,” you whimper against his lips. 

“Yes, baby?” he mumbles, his hands exploring your body, sliding to your hips as he tugs you in a little closer. 

“I need you…please,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t need you to say anything more, standing up and pulling you with him. He leads you into his bedroom, pushing you across the room till the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. Laying back on the bed you gasp in surprise as he lifts you further onto the bed, hovering over you as he unbuttons your jeans. “Quinn,” you gush. 

“What?” he asks with a smirk, pulling your jeans down your legs as you lift your hips to make it easier.  

“I just didn’t expect…this,” you tell him, sitting up as you push his shirt up his torso, letting him take over and toss it aside. 

“I can slow down,” he offers, running his hands down your thighs. 

“No,” you say quickly, giggling at your own eagerness. “Please, don’t,” you add. 

Quinn chuckles, nodding as he leans down, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. He moves further up your thigh, and each time his lips brush against your skin your body jolts with desire. Slowly he pulls your underwear down your legs, letting them drop onto the floor. Your breathing is heavy by the time his tongue brushes against the spot that you had been nearly begging for. 

“O-oh,” you gasp as he flicks his tongue over your clit. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but whatever it was you weren’t expecting it to feel this good. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, back arching as you moan loudly. “Fuck,” you breathe out, breathing heavily. His hands wrap around your thighs, your fingers curling into the fabric of the comforter on the bed, trying to keep yourself still as waves of pleasure rip through you. 

Your body flushes with warmth, desperate to reach your climax as your hips begin to squirm. Quinn presses his arm against your hips, stilling them as his tongue flicks against your clit. “Oh fuck,” you whine, moaning loudly. A second later your muscles are tensing, waves of pleasure ripping through your body. “O-oh my god,” you cry out, flinching away from his tongue when the sensation grows too intense. “Okay, okay,” you mumble, hands cradling his face as you tug him back to your lips. Pressing your lips to his you kiss him deeply, your legs wrapping around his torso. “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Quinn teases.

Your breath leaves your lips shakily, eyes locked with his. “Please…I want you inside of me,” you plead. 

Quinn leans in, kissing you gently before climbing off the bed. You watch him open the nightstand, grabbing a condom. You reach over, taking his hand and pulling him towards you, till he was standing in front of where you were sitting on the edge of the bed. Looking up at him you unbutton his pants, slowly pushing them down. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes out, his hand on the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair. You slide his underwear off a second later, your hand wrapping around his erection. Leaning down you swirl your tongue around his tip, taking him into your mouth a second later. He lets out a shuttering groan, his fingers grasping at your hair. “Holy shit,” he mutters. 

You take him as far into your mouth as you can each time you bob your head up and down, suppressing your gags as your eyes well with tears from the sensation. You can feel the saliva building in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, the saliva dripping down onto your fingers. Moving your free hand to Quinn’s thigh you readjust on your knees, the hardwood floor below you is not particularly comfortable, but the quiet groans he’s making make it worth it. 

A few minutes later Quinn pulls back and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, staring up at him. “You’re so beautiful,” Quinn mutters, running his thumb along your bottom lip. He leans down to kiss you again, gentle and slow. 

Pulling back Quinn opens the condom, sliding it on quickly. Scooting back on the bed you reach up, grabbing his hand and pulling him down on top of you. He kisses you passionately as he slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing over your entrance before slowly pushing one finger inside you. He moves slowly at first, brushing up slightly, sliding another finger inside you a minute later, your moans growing in volume. 

He pulls his hand back quickly, wrapping around his dick, sliding himself inside you. It’s slow at first, almost teasing as he watches you beneath him, moaning quietly. “Oh my god,” you whimper, your hands grasping onto his shoulders. “You feel so good inside me,” you whisper as he picks up the speed, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

Leaning up Quinn places his hands on the backs of your thighs, gently pushing your legs back further. Sliding your hand down you run your fingers over your clit, Quinn watching you for a moment as your moans grow in frequency. “Oh, fuck,” Quinn groans, tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling. “I’m close.”

Your fingers pick up speed when you hear Quinn say he’s close, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm just a moment later. As your body is overtaken by the familiar tensing of your muscles you cry out in pleasure, your free hand wrapping around Quinn’s bicep, fingers digging into his arm. 

Quinn finishes just a minute after you, groaning as his thrusts slow in pace, slowly pulling himself out of you. He leans down and kisses your forehead gently before pushing himself off the bed, heading towards the bathroom as he takes off the condom. 

Laying on the bed you stare at the ceiling, trying your best to catch your breath. It had been awhile since you had sex in general but a very long time since you had sex that felt that good. Your hand rests on your bare torso, rising and falling with each heavy breath. You turn your head to the side when Quinn returns, tugging on a pair of underwear before sitting on the bed beside you. “How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Good,” you tell him with a giggle. “Really good.”

“Good,” Quinn echoes with a chuckle, leaning down to quickly peck your lips. “I’m going to get us some water, do you want anything else?”

Shaking your head you sit up, tugging your underwear back on. “No, just the water would be great.”

“I’ll be right back,” Quinn tells you, kissing your forehead again before leaving the bedroom. 

Pulling the blankets back you slide under them, realizing just how tired you really were. Quinn returns a minute later, setting a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. He joins you in bed, reaching over and pulling you closer. His fingers brush against your back, your arm resting on his chest. 

“Was tonight a date?” you whisper. 

A soft breath of laughter leaves Quinn’s lips as he tips his head up to look at you. “Well I thought it was but that’s kind of embarrassing if you didn’t.”

Giggling you lift your head, looking up at him. “I didn’t know but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to be.” Rolling over you slide one leg over his body, straddling him as you lean in, your lips hovering over his. “We can call it a date but I don’t usually kiss on the first date and look at where tonight went,” you joke. 

“Well I’m definitely looking forward to the second date then,” Quinn replies with a chuckle, his hands on your hips as he rolls you off of him to hover over you. “I’ll make sure you know it’s a date next time,” he says with a smirk, kissing you gently. “Get you some flowers or something.”

“Ooh,” you say with a giggle, running your fingers along his arm. “I love flowers.”

“I’ll get you all the flowers you ever want.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so romantic, Quinn,” you tease, leaning up to peck his cheek. 

Quinn shrugs, settling onto the bed beside you. “I’m not normally.”

Rolling your eyes playfully you shake your head. “Okay…whatever you say.”

“I’m being serious,” Quinn assures you with a quiet laugh. 

Turning your head your eyes meet with his and you realize he’s not joking. “Well please don’t stop, I like it.”

“I won’t,” Quinn promises, leaning over and kissing your forehead gently. 

Smiling softly you curl in closer to Quinn, letting your eyes fall shut as you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest under your hand. It doesn’t take long for you fall asleep in his arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment that extends into your dreams, lulling you into a deep sleep.

Your eyes flutter open the next morning, rolling onto your side in the dim bedroom, the blinds blocking out the early morning light. “Good morning,” you whisper when you watch Quinn’s eyes open, turning on his side to face you. 

Quinn reaches over, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Morning,” he mumbles with a tired smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good,” you whisper, unable to contain your own smile. “Did you sleep okay?” Rolling onto your stomach you move closer to him, resting your arm on his chest. 

“Yes,” Quinn replies, his hand sliding down to rest on your lower back. “Was last night okay?”

“More than okay,” you assure him, drawing imaginary shapes on his chest with your fingertips. “What do you want to do today?” you ask him, knowing it was one of very few days where he wasn’t doing something for hockey. 

Quinn shrugs, brushing his thumb along the skin of your lower back, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. “Anything as long as it’s with you.”

“What a coincidence…that’s also what I want to do today.”

You spend most of the morning in the apartment, not going more than a few minutes here and there without touching each other in some manner. Brief kisses here and there, a hand on your back, your arms wrapped around him. The afternoon brings you out of the apartment and into the streets of Vancouver, Quinn showing you around the rainy city. 

You spend the rest of the week at Quinn’s apartment. Watching movies on the couch, making dinners, going to another one of his games, afternoons spent at his kitchen table working through projects your laptop. You spent a night alone there when he had a road game, curled up on the couch in one of his t-shirts, watching the game on the TV in his living room. Everything felt so comfortable, so normal. Like this was the life you were supposed to be living. Just you and Quinn in an apartment together. 

But no matter how good it felt you knew it wasn’t going to last. You had to go home, had to get back to your job and the classes that you were barely keeping up with online. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to continue living in this blissful state with Quinn, it just wasn’t reasonable. 

Your time in Vancouver had to come to an end, the time slipping by so much faster than normal. Before you knew it you didn’t have another day or even another night together.  

You force a deep breath into your lungs, the lights in the airport feeling too bright, the air a little too cold, the bustling of people a little too loud. “Well,” you whisper, blinking quickly as you glance around, at anything and everything but Quinn. You were certain that if you looked at him a little too long you wouldn’t be able to keep it together. “I, um, I guess I should go…don’t want to miss my flight,” you mumble, though if you were being honest you wouldn’t be too upset if you did miss your flight. 

Quinn nods, reaching over and pulling you into him. The two of you stand there in silence, neither one wanting to pull back, not wanting the inevitable to happen. “I’m going to miss you.”

Sniffling quietly you curl your fingers into his hoodie. “Me too,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your hands still on his arms. “Don’t get too busy that you can’t talk to me when I call,” you joke, a sad breath of laughter following. Reaching up you wipe away your tears as you take a small step back. 

“Never,” Quinn assures you, a clear hesitation as he lets you go. “Have a good flight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, slowly turning around and heading towards the security line. You don’t look back, didn’t want him to see the stream of tears that you had been holding in all morning running down your cheeks. You fight through your emotions till you're through security, finding yourself a seat to hide away from the rest of the world as the sleeves of your hoodie grow damp with the tears you’re wiping from your face. 

Who would have thought that leaving on such great terms would be just as hard as leaving thinking you were never going to see him again. 

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #quinn hughes imagine

[lovableapocalypse]

feels like

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

wc- 2k

warnings- mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, vomit/throwing up, like one f bomb, established relationship, i dont think anything else

a/n- reader is a pilot lol. hope you all like it and send me any requests you wanna see!!!!

You were tired of vomit. Tired of the smell, tired of the nausea, and tired of the harsh sting it was leaving in the back of your throat. The past three days you had been pulled to consciousness by your uneasy stomach and ended up over the toilet as your alarm blared from the bedroom. 

Bradley has had to leave for training extremely early this week and luckily has missed your ugly morning wake-up call. You’d been subtly avoiding his concerns at work; when you looked queasy after conditioning, when Jake’s body wash scent made you gag, and when you barely touched the coffee he brought you one morning. You played it off as a stomach bug, but your intuition was telling you something completely different.

Thankfully this week had been a zero flight week. You were terrified of flying if your suspicions were accurate, but you were also too scared to take the damn pregnancy test. 

As you walked down the hall Friday afternoon, doing your best to avoid everyone, you made a pact with yourself that you would stop by the convenience store tonight. Bradley was staying late to help with new flight curriculum so you’d have the opportunity to do it alone. 

Part of you wanted to share this moment with him, but your fear quickly overrode that. You and Bradley had been together for years at this point, ever since your first run at Top Gun. He’s mentioned kids a couple times, but never seriously. Deep down you knew he would accept this and be 100% in it, but your anxiety was on blast and your logical thoughts were nowhere to be found. 

You were supposed to be heading to a group meeting, all Dagger Squad members present. Your nausea has been steady all day, and hasn't eased up since you puked your guts up first thing. It’s been miserable and your sweaty, pale complexion are a testament to that. You’re trying your best to take deep breaths as you walk through the humid hallway, but your stomach lurches anyway. You grip the wall nearest to you and clench your eyes shut. 

Deep breaths. In and out. You wait for the pain to subside before you start walking again. You slowly enter the conference room, looking around. Last one here, great. You shoot a small smile in apology and head to the empty seat next to Bradley. 

He gives you a quizzical look as Maverick begins a spiel about next week's itinerary. 

“You okay?” He whispers, brown eyebrows pinched. 

You inhale sharply and nod, reaching for his hand to squeeze in reassurance. He squeezes in return and tries his best to keep his attention on Mav, but your squirming is distracting. It’s too hot in this cramped office space. You swear you can feel each person’s body heat radiate off them, making your head spin. 

Breaths. Deep freaking breaths. You’re trying to concentrate once again on your breathing as Phoenix asks a question, but everything is muffled and distant. You feel Bradley’s eyes seer into you and your jaw clenches unbearably tight. 

This is not happening. You refuse. You’ve made it the whole week without getting sick at work, and you really don’t want your closest colleagues and friends to see you hurl in a tiny trash can. Bradley squeezes your hand tighter trying to grasp your attention, but you just stare ahead and will your body to stop. 

Fuck. There’s definitely no stopping it. You shoot to your feet, pulling your hand from Bradley’s, drawing everyone’s attention. You briefly hear Mav ask if you’re alright and your hand quickly shoots to cover your mouth as you stumble to the trash can. Your stomach empties and you cough harshly, bent over the small container. You hear chairs screech and boots on the ground and soon feel a familiar hand slide up your back. 

Bradley pulls your hair away from your face with his other hand and continues to rub your back, glancing around the room in concern. Phoenix and Bob shoot him sympathetic looks and Jake’s grimace is clear as day. 

Mav makes his way over to you, cautiously, and shouts at Javy to get a medic. You raise your hand and wave at him, trying to refuse. You cough again, “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“You just puked y/n.” Bradley states. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry- just I’m okay now.”

You slowly stand up and Bradley keeps his grip on you, moving you towards a seat. You glance up, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, and see the sympathetic looks sent your way. “Sorry,” You sigh.

Javy returns out of breath with the medic and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Y/n I think you should go get checked out,” Maverick says, “Rooster, why don’t you go with her.” He nods his head towards the door and motions for you, Bradley, and the medic to leave the conference room. 

Bradley keeps his grip on your elbow as you walk slowly toward the med bay. The medic is asking you basic questions that you are trying your best to answer as vaguely as possible. When you enter the med area you begrudgingly let the medic take your temperature and check your vitals. 

“Everything looks okay. I’d just get some rest and head to urgent care if your symptoms get any worse.” 

You’re grateful the medic didn’t mention pregnancy and you nod in appreciation as they exit the small exam area. 

Bradley sighs and places his hands on his hips. “Let me take you home, honey. Get some sleep.”

You shake your head, “No Roo it’s okay, I promise. You have to stay late anyway.”

You’re avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. You’re not sure why you feel so emotional all of a sudden, but with barely any sleep and vomiting up everything you eat, you’re exhausted. You feel tears prick your waterline as Bradley steps closer to you. 

He reaches up and cups your face. It wasn’t always like this. You and Rooster are both stubborn to an unhealthy degree, and when you two got off on the wrong foot all those years ago you never imagined this. He rubs his thumbs over your cheeks, examining you with his eyes. 

“What’s going on? You’ve been off all week.” His voice is soft and it only makes you more emotional. 

You close your eyes and feel the first tears escape down your face. “I think I’m pregnant.” You whisper.

You keep your eyes shut as you hear him inhale. He grips your face tighter, willing you to open your eyes. When you finally open them, he’s smiling. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You shake your head, “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t taken a test yet, but I’ve been sick all week and I can’t remember when my last period was.” You sigh. 

His smile only grows. Of course he would be excited. You’re not sure why you were convinced he would be pissed or upset. His reaction only makes you cry more and he tugs you closer into the warmth of his chest. 

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and steps back, helping you off the exam bench. “Let's go home, yeah?” He asks. 

You nod solemnly and thread your fingers through his, heading to the exit. Bradley lets Mav know you’re sick and he’s taking you home, planning to finish the flight course next week. He helps you into his Bronco and secures your seatbelt for you. He kisses you lightly before closing the door and heading around the car.

On the way back to your shared place he detours to the nearest convenience store and parks out front. Turning to you he says, “I’m gonna run in and grab a few tests. Do you want to come in?”

You shake your head and lean back against the seat letting it absorb your exhaustion. He’s quick inside and jogs back out to the car with a full bag.

“I didn’t know which one to get so I just grabbed a bunch.” He pulls a few out to show you and you laugh at his eagerness.

He smiles at you and places the bag in the back seat, squeezing your knee as he starts the car again. 

He turns the radio on low as you watch your surroundings pass by. You don’t know how to feel about all this. Are you even ready to be a mom? You glance at Bradley and take in his tanned skin and light blush covering his nose and ears. He’d be a great dad, you already know it. 

You try to shake off some of your anxiety as you head inside. Bradley pulls you close and squeezes your arm, sending you a reassuring smile. You exhale and turn to him, “Will you take it with me?”

“Of course.” He nods and rubs your arm gently. 

You head towards the bathroom with the bag full of tests and Bradley fills a cup of water for you. You’re examining all the different tests when he enters and comes up behind you. He rests his head on your shoulder and reads the boxes with you. 

You grab the test with the electronic Pregnant or Not Pregnant answer and a generic 2 line test as well. Bradley sits with you the whole time anxiously squeezing any part of you he can touch. You place the tests near the sink and set a timer on your phone. 

You both sit in a comfortable yet tense silence. You can tell Bradley is more excited than you are but he’s doing his best to keep himself calm. The phone rings cutting off your anxious thoughts and you both stand together to look at the results. 

You grab the line test first seeing two very visible solid lines. You quickly grab the other which coincides with a bold Pregnant flashing at you. You close your eyes and pass the test to Bradley, feeling the waterworks begin. 

He gasps slightly and puts the test back on the counter. He laughs as he turns you to face him, “Hey, hey it’s okay. Everythings gonna be fine,” You can hear the smile in his voice as your tears fall faster. 

“We’ll figure it out, okay? Hey, look at me.” He cups your face again, your eyes opening to meet his. 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” His smile spreads, “We’re gonna be parents holy shit.” You laugh at his excitement and pull him into an embrace. 

“We’re gonna be parents.” You mumble into his shirt. 

The next morning you head to a local clinic just to get a medical test and see if everythings okay with the baby. You’re given the all clear and relative timeline of birth and growth and everything seems so surreal. Bradley is beyond excited and it’s starting to rub off on you. He spent the whole night reassuring you and brainstorming possible names. 

The doctor did let you know that flying is off limits. You feel a bit sad at the loss of flying, but know Mav will keep you busy in other ways. You keep reminding yourself this as you head to his office Monday morning. Bradley and you are hand in hand, him excited to break the news. You knock and hear a muffled “Come in” on the other side. You exhale and squeeze Bradley’s hand as you push the door open. 

“Hey y/n, Bradley.” He nods. “Feeling better?” He places the paperwork he was looking at down and looks between you both. 

You glance to Bradley who quickly nods his head, urging you on. “About that.” You turn back to Mav’s confused expression continuing, “Um, Bradley and I actually have something to tell you.”

Pete remains silent, questioning you both. 

“I’m, uh, not gonna be able to fly for a while.”

His brows furrow, mouth opening to object, but you beat him to it. 

“I’m pregnant.”

His mouth drops in shock and Bradley laughs at his expression. 

“I- I mean wow. Holy shit!” He laughs. He stands and rounds the desk pulling you into a tight hug and then Bradley. He shakes Rooster’s shoulders as he pulls away and his face is ecstatic. 

“I’ll be damned,” He looks between you both again and shakes his head. You glance at Bradley and smile.

Bradley’s grin is contagious and he shouts, “We’re gonna be parents!”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun #tgm fanfic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick x reader

[izgnanik-a]

Suffer Does The Wolf (Crawling to Thee) i

Summary: Simon knew the exact moment when he knew he had to have you for himself. It was only a matter of time before his military skills allowed himself into your home, into your life. And once he stuck — he wasn’t going to let you back out of his webs.

Tags: non-con, stalker!Ghost, fem reader, mature content

MINORS DNI

next part ➡️

You were nothing but a civilian, or at least you should have been. But you were standing so pretty behind the bar top counter, coffee with a throw away name Simon had used on it instead of his own. Your handwriting was always decorative, with a heart over the i’s.

He had to cut into your presence and sew himself into the holes he’d torn out — just to have you.

The first time he approached the counter and you’d caught his eye; you wore a pale blue nail polish that reminded him of the chipping paint off his walls.

"What can I get for you?" Six words that seared into his mind unnecessarily. But you looked at him like a human being, despite his masked face, despite the uncanny resemblance of a Leviathan of legends, or Prometheus himself. You just gazed up at him with a smile, head swiveled so far up at him.

And then he'd realized he was standing before you, without having said a single thing. Then — he was spewing sense.

"Coffee." He grumbled.

"One coffee. Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

"What size?"

"Medium."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Black."

You glanced up at him, "Just to clarify; medium hot coffee, no cream or sugar, no flavor shots."

Simon's eyes flickered down to your apron. Pins and patches sewn into it, a nametag with a bold delicate cursive of your name along with how long you'd been working there.

Three months. And he hadn't seen you until just now, well into Autumn.

"Yes." Simon hummed as he dragged his eyes from your apron and to your face. He was already sliding his money across the counter before you could even ring him out completely. You'd thanked him and held his change back out to him.

You hadn't expected his hands to be so warm, or big, but you flashed a smile at him. "Your coffee will be right up, just stand under the pick-up sign, and we'll make that up for you, John." And you smiled at him again as he moved over to allow the long line of customers to continue.

He wanted for his coffee and sulked over to his unoccupied corner, one he favored. People didn't usually sit in the armchair because it had worn down leather on it's back, and it sat in the corner where it was dark with no wall sockets.

But he had appreciation for the dark.

He also had appreciation for the direct line of sight between tables at the register.

Simon gently hoisted his hot cup of coffee to his mouth, bringing his mask up just to free his lips before taking a gulp of the horrid thing. It was scalding, but he could hardly focus on it. He focused on your honey sweet smiles, your bright flash of quick glances, and chipper voice.

He normally would have found that despicable, would have wanted to squash it in any private he'd met, but you? He wanted it in the palm of his hands. He took his time with his coffee, using it as an excuse to stay longer. But duties had called him away.

The second time he'd come to the shop, he'd been mindful of the time. If you were on a fixed schedule, he would see you this time around if you weren't late. You'd have on some new nail polish because the old polish, he'd come to find as Coral Blue, had been a part of the summer collection from the mall.

He'd spotted it when he was passing the Sephora boutique, a display of their Summer collection on sale since the new season was on.

It was Autumn, Halloween was coming, you had to love Halloween.

Halloween was everyone's favorite holiday.

And he was right.

The new color you'd picked out was a purple matte shade, Cruel Intentions, he discovered later that week. And your eyes seemed to light up at first sight of his frame.

"Hello?" You gleamed. "What'll it be today?"

Simon met your eyes. "Coffee."

You nodded, "Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

It was the same parade every time.

"What size?"

"Medium."

"Black, right?"

Simon kept his stare firm on yours. "Yeah."

You nodded, ringing it up, and before he could even utter his false name, you set his coffee before him. "Medium hot black for John." You smiled up at him.

Simon didn't say a thing; any normal person would've been disturbed on why someone would know their order. But Simon was absolutely floored that you'd remembered him, recognized him, stuffed him into the forefront of your mind enough times to have receipts overflowing. You remembered him. But it didn't help that Simon had started coming around the same times now, same days you'd worked.

He'd hoped no one else caught on and whispered their worries to you.

Even if they did, he hoped you disregarded them and considered him just a usual customer.

He didn't want to pull the curtains back just yet. He wanted to remain in your obliviousness for a stretch of time longer, if anything, never.

Simon took the coffee from the countertop and set his money on the surface. He turned away, maybe too proud or too shy to say anything about it.

But the next time he'd come into the shop, he was going to be sure to say something. Anything. As he was coming through the front door, holding it open for another customer, he came to notice that the store had been fairly empty.

Sure, it was raining and the drive thru was packed but someone must've wanted to come inside under the cover of this rain.

He followed the dividers to the counter, and waited a moment. No one standing at the counter.

"I'll be right with you!" Simon heard and his heart lept in his chest.

You came into sight from the drive thru window, a light jacket on, and a lingering smile that only reappeared as you approached. "I'll get your coffee in just a sec—"

"Take your time." He uttered.

You gave him a thankful smile and turned back for the drive thru. You cleared two cars before returning to him with his medium hot black coffee. "One hot black coffee for you." You smiled. "Sorry for the wait, it's been non-stop in drive thru."

His eyes panned along the bar top. "Where is everyone else?"

There were usually baristas, cooks making sandwiches behind the bakery bar. But none.

"It's just me today." You shrugged. "There were a few callouts, one person is sick. We're just short staffed." You waved your hand dismissively. "It's nothing I'm not used to."

Despite being stretched in every direction, you were still standing there smiling at him. Holding the world on your shoulders and still showing your dedication to the gods.

Simon didn't put the money on the counter this time, opting to hold it out to you.

"Thank you." You hummed, flashing him your changed nails. They were that same shade of blue again.

"Coral Blue." Simon found himself mumbling under his mask.

You looked at him with a look of shock, "Hm?"

He shook his head once as you offered out the change to him. He pointed to your nails. "Coral Blue." He said again, this time with more depth. "The color."

And you glowed so beautifully. "They are." You blushed, giving them a glance over. "They're my favorite color of blue actually. I'm—" you chuckled, "I'm surprised anyone knows the exact shade. What are you, a nail tech?"

That must've been a joke. You were joking right.

You were laughing so it must've been a joke; a big guy like him, hunched over someone's nails as he added precise details. "I'm actually searching for this one shade, and I've been keeping my eye out for it all over." You waved your hand about. "It's called The Pale Horseman in the Revelations collection at Sephora. Morbid, I know. But, it's a really nice set. I just wish it wasn't so expensive."

Simon would pay any and all amounts of money to get you those sets, those shades, even call the chemist who makes them and bottles them. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

You chuckled. "That's a high price."

"I'm willing."

You nodded, your headset going off. "Well, if you do see it, let me know where it is. Tuck it away for me somewhere hidden so I can find it." You smiled, "I have to take this." You gestured to the headset. "It was nice talking to you, John." You turned for the window.

Simon didn't stay that day to drink his coffee, though he wanted to sit in his corner and drink his coffee. Watch you go from each station to make people's coffees, sharing smiles and polite greetings. But he had an assignment due.

He would find you those shades, wrap it in a nice box, and deliver it to your doorstep if he had to.

But he needed to remain nonchalant. He couldn't follow you home just yet. He needed to limit his self control.

You got into work late the next day, your shift had started an hour ago, and Simon had already come and gone. But he was worried. You were never late. Not in the two weeks he'd been watching you.

"Hey, there's a package for you here."

You turned to the comment, furrowed brows, and hummed. "For me?"

"Yeah, some guy came by, like, fifteen minutes before you came in and told us to give it to you. It's in the office."

In more confusion, you moved for the office. A small white box sat by the telephone, a red silk ribbon was been tied around it to keep the lid secure. With one pull, it was falling apart in your palm and you carefully removed the lid like you were taking apart a bomb.

You didn't know what to expect. You didn't know anyone there.

But at the center, stuffed inside of tissue paper with flakes of glitter, was a single nail polish jar of The Pale Horseman. A card had been signed and left on the underside of the lid reading: " The price is one medium black coffee -Simon "

You stared at the card and back at the nail polish, only knowing two people you'd spoken about this nail polish with recently. You were absolutely shocked that you had it in hand, knowing it was nearly impossible to find, but wielded it in your hand.

You smiled as you repackaged the nail polish, sure to wear it that night.

Fic Masterlist

Do not copy my works and post elsewhere.

#izgnanik-a #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #cod modern warfare

[swampstew]

Hey 👉👈😔🧎 hope you're doing well and staying hydrated,if the requests are open and u feel cool writing this ,I will be straight forward asking this🧍 can you write Maybe headcanons for Killer or law or Katakuri,,,,,, with Thier s/o first time riding Thier faces🧍🙏 , I'm down bad for these guys lately 😔 just imagine Killer trusting you nd loving you nd letting u just ride his pretty face,,,🤌🤌🤌🤌or Katakuri Begin careful with his teeth,,, Or law just cuz he hot nd I like his face ngl😔😔😔,,,,ight ,,feel free to ignore this if it's too much!

Hi @owlight you little deviant <3 I like your straightforwardness, I will give you all three of ya mans cause I'm fond of you (despite your fishy shenanigans.) You want face riding? You got it. Buckle up buckaroo.

CW: Spicy; AFAB reader; face riding headcanons; pussy eating; oral sex and masturbation; consent is applied wholeheartedly.

Minors DNI - you will be blocked

The first time Killer suggested that you sit on his face was after an intense battle with the Marines. His blood was surging and all he wanted was to have you close to him. Coincidentally, this was also the first time Killer allowed you to see him without the mask. He called it a trust exercise; you'd get to see his face, from your place above him as he ate you out.

You were hesitant at first, not entirely on board in being in such a position but Killer is nothing if not a smooth talker. It took him less than 5 minutes to convince you. Next think you know, you're in his bed naked and he's coaxing you over. Killer was still clothed as you crawled over his lap. Once your face was close, he gently slid his mask off - ruffling his hair to smooth out the helmet hair. You reach out and run your fingers through his soft mane, taking him in. He was everything, words die on your tongue because none would do justice to how beautiful every single feature is. You only get 30 seconds to admire him before he flops down, pulls his hair back, and as if you weigh NOTHING - he grabs under your thighs and lifts you up and on his face. Rude tbh.

Killer is very experienced and it shows. He lavishes you, praises you, worships you as he defiles your core with his tongue. Teeth gently nipping here and there; lips planting kisses around your sex. You admit being in this position had its advantages in spite of it being new for you. Body struggling to stay upright as you keen and squirm and jerk. You leak all over his surprisingly soft goatee hair.

He is quite skilled with his tongue, twisting and thrusting inside you, slurping and flicking your clit. When he sucks on your bundle of your nerves, you swear you feel closer to nirvana. His hands keep your thighs open as you ground down on his face, your hands fisting the mattress as you push down on him so greedy for more of him. His fingers dig into your flesh as you begin to convulse on him, snickering into your core as he doubles his efforts until you cry out in pleasure. 9/10 head game.

You hadn't seen Law emerge from his office in what felt like weeks but then he suddenly appeared in the kitchen as you were pouring yourself a cup of coffee. His lanky body draped over yours as he stole your cup and whispered in your ear, leaving your face red. Enigmatic son of a gun sprung face riding on you, what are you gonna do, say no?! Obviously not, so with a shit eating smirk plastered on his stupid, hot face as he leads you to his private cabin quarters.

Law's body is long in a way you didn't appreciate before you realized as you lay in bed with him, making out in the tight quarters with soft music playing in the background. He pulls you up on his body, trying to position you the way he wants. You rip his hat off his messy hair and toss it off the bed, his gray eyes light up in laughter as he watched it bounce of the mattress. Slim fingers press against your ass as he pushes you forward, the hairs of his goatee tickle your thighs as you slide on to his face. His earrings feel cold against your heated skin.

You watch him wet his lips and kiss your clit before he slips out his tongue. It's long, slender and strong as it presses against your core, swiping up to lick you up and down. You knew that he was an excellent french kisser but holy fuck could he french kiss your pussy. Man is having a gourmet dinner and you are the meal. Badahh bah bah bahh - he's lovin it.

Law openly laughs as you begin to desperately grind on his face, the tip of his nose pressed against your clit, shaking his face from side to side quickly to increase stimulation, making you cry out and arch back. Your head tilting backwards allows you to see that Law has been jerking himself off while he was eating you. What a talented man, is your final thought as the tension inside you snaps and you cum against his tongue. 8/10 kinda messy eater.

It took Katakuri ages to feel comfortable requesting this of you. It had taken him almost a year to remove his scarf in your presence! It was one of his best traits, his shyness. Crazy right? That The Katakuri could be shy...bashful even. One thing he definitely is - the sweetest man alive. You've never wanted for anything, he had you covered in every department - even in the bedroom despite the drastic size difference. There was also his sharp teeth to consider, watching him lick them as he watched you undress. Then you watched something that's for your eyes only...you watch Katakuri recline on to his back and beckon you forward.

Hiking up his body is not a figurative metaphor, it's literal but he so worth the cardio. You get to hold on to his hand as you climb though and that feels so nice, he's such a gentleman. His smile is honest-to-god so beautiful. It's so nice to seem him look so happy, gleeful, not a single crease of worry on as you settle over his face. His hands hold on to your legs carefully, his fingers doing their best to be a buffer between your skin and his sharp teeth.

Even though he can see into the future, that first swipe of his tongue is cautious and exploratory, eyes inspecting your face and body for ANY sign of pain or discomfort. When all he receives in response is a breathy sigh and grin on your face, he smiles and gives a second, cautious but more confident swipe up your sopping core. His tongue is large and heavy against you and you can't help but keen into the texture of his wet muscle. Katakuri can't help but smile widely when you keep doing it - he knew it was coming but it was still a treat to see it play out in real time. He'd been dreaming, thinking, wishing on this day to come but he'd been to nervous to actually do anything about it. Not until he contemplated asking you one day and his future sight told him you'd say yes. Then he had panicked and ran to his siblings for advice on eating pussy.

Katakuri is a dedicated man - once his siblings gave their advice, he did research like a nerd and then practiced on stuffed dolls. The stuffed dolls he had been gifting you randomly over the better part of a month. Presently he is showing off all he learned on your pulsing pussy as you cry out and grab his face as you buck into him, thighs squishing down on his jaw as you try to climb him again for more stimulation. You were getting to rowdy so for your own good, he applies all his focus on slurping and sucking your clit like a vacuum until your toes curl and you screech out in wanton pleasure, triggering him to pull off and stick his sinful tongue in you. Katakuri doesn't ease up - he plunges in and finds your g-spot like a heat seeking missile. You come undone a few seconds sooner than his foresight foresaw, clenching on his tongue as you cream around it. Tears leaking from your eyes as your body shakes in the afterglow of your orgasm, he eases you off his face and though your eyes are bleary, you don't miss the way his tongue laps up the juices on his face and chin. 10/10 King of Cream

#swampstew bedtime stories #swampstew #swampstew stories #raven answers #owlight #one piece trafalgar law #law one piece #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece law #one piece killer #killer x reader #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #one piece charlotte katakuri #charlotte katakuri #op katakuri #one piece katakuri #katakuri x reader #katakuri headcanons #killer headcanons #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece smut #killer smut #katakuri smut #trafalgar law smut

[winchester-girl67]

Happy Hour (Part 2) - Happy Ending

Summary: A few weeks into dating Dean and things finally heat up with the first snowfall of the season.

Part 1

Pairing: Neighbour!Dean x reader

Square: Snow angels @spnchristmasbingo​ Date night @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 5,423

Rating: mature 18+ MDNI

Warnings: mature themes, heavy smut (touching, teasing, biting, kissing/cuddling, dry humping, p in v, protected sex), brief mentions of past drugged!reader, mentions of stretch marks/body insecurity/performance anxiety, language, mainly fluff

A/N: Every relationship progresses at its own pace. For those of you who wanted more of these two. Also written for @spnchristmasbingo​ and @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo. Enjoy!

_____

Dean looked damn good holding a spatula as he flipped the chocolate chip and blueberry pancakes with a wink. Your eyes sunk to his rear as you sipped on your crazy hot coffee, burning the tip of your tongue. You stuck it out and blew to cool the tip. You pinched the end of your tongue between your fingers and tried to look at it. Dean laughing when you did so.

You never had someone cook you breakfast before. Not actually cook it like Dean did. You could taste the love he put into the food that morning, because he did love food, especially breakfast food.

Usually, you couldn't get a half decent breakfast unless you bought it or cooked it yourself. Most guys leaned towards microwaving breakfast burritos, which somehow always turned out still half frozen when you bit into them. But Dean was different and you couldn't believe how wrong you'd been about him.

Things changed after that morning, firstly you cut that friend out of your life, because friends don't drug friends without their knowledge and consent. And secondly, you decided you wanted to keep seeing Dean. Romantically. That feeling -the urge to jump his bones- never fizzled out completely, although you had yet to do anything about it; it was still early in your relationship.

You'd been going out for a few weeks now. Times were busy though with the holidays coming up and neither of you had much time for each other. So a few weeks was really only three dates; the last of which was cut short when Dean's little brother called him up to ask for a ride home from a party.

You made plans to be with Dean for New Year's Eve but tonight was the last time you were going to see each other before you headed home to see your family for Christmas. And you weren't about to waste a single second of it.

You met Dean at his house after work and he cooked you dinner for the first time. Your taste buds were in love.

This man could cook!

After dinner you watched a Hallmark movie, the one where the two main characters fall in love and finally embrace the Christmas spirit... you guessed, since they were all the same. You weren't really focused on the movie at the moment. You were straddling Dean on the couch with your back to the screen and your ears only intermittently registered the sounds of sleigh bells and random Christmas music.

Until a screech came over the speakers and interrupted your heated make-out session. You turned to see the red alert flash across the screen, a 'Winter Storm Warning' was currently in effect in your area. You glanced at the sliding glass door but Dean had drawn the curtains hours ago so you couldn't see outside. Or rather so your neighbours couldn't see inside.

The first snowfall of the season was always the most magical; when you woke up and saw that fresh coating of snow lay over the fallen blades of yellow and green grass. You hadn't seen that yet this year, it was late, but you loved that sense of renewal and calm that radiated from the season and you had the urge to know if it was, in fact, snowing right this second. Dean wasn't going anywhere and you could resume your make-out session without missing a beat once you opened that curtain.

You pushed on Dean's shoulders in an attempt to stand but he tsked and held your hips. You were both still dressed but he took full advantage of the long sleeve, v-neck top you wore and placed heavy kisses to your chest. His thick breath between your breasts warmed your skin and made you shiver at the same time. Tiny goosebumps appearing in his wake as he kissed up your neck and made you suck in a breath.

"I think it's snowing," you said, running your fingers through his hair and tugging the strands so he had to separate his lips from your skin.

He grunted and met your gaze. His eyes lust blown and his lips just as red and swollen as you supposed your own must be. His brows furrowed and a small smirk pulled at the edge of his mouth.

"Huh?" He questioned, taking the opportunity to wet his lips.

You thought he was probably unable to form words at the moment and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt and palm at your smooth skin. Almost like an attempt to distract you, but it didn't work. The storm was calling to you and you just loved the snow so much!

It was something you desperately wanted to share with Dean. Especially since you were set to leave in the late morning and he was part of your life now; you wanted to celebrate and share the things that excited you with him.

You started and jumped in Dean's lap when he snapped your bra, "Ow! What the hell, Dean?"

"Sorry, my fingers slipped." He said, but the grin on his face said he did it on purpose.

"I can't take my eyes off you for a second, can I?"

"It's not advisable, sweetheart." He winked and shook his head.

Fucking cute, cocky bastard!

For a guy that was a complete gentleman the first night you spent together, the second you sobered up, he was back to being that bold neighbour leering at you in your leggings. Except now his hands felt what his eyes couldn't. And you most definitely leered back. You liked him looking, you liked seeing the emotions he didn't bother to hide in his eyes, whether that was lust or affection or unease. He showed it all to you.

You kept your eyes on him, pushing his shoulders back and lifting yourself from his lap. He pouted but watched as you stood and twirled around to skip towards the backdoor.

You threw the velvet curtains back, "Holy shit!" Your mouth gaped at the sight before you. "Dean, you have to see this!"

That got his attention and you heard him lift himself from the couch. His sock feet padding over to you before you felt strong arms slide around your waist and the heat of his chest press against your back. He rested his chin on your shoulder and huffed out a breath that fogged up a spot on the glass door.

"Wow, that's a lot of snow." He said unenthusiastically and nuzzled your hair out of the way with his nose to peck a kiss to your cheek. "Let's finish the movie, sweetheart."

Finish the movie, my ass.

He just wanted to feel you some more, in the ways that you hadn't been able to since you started dating. And you wanted to, too. Time alone together was precious, but so was the first snowfall and you thought you could combine the two.

You did have all night after all.

You sucked in a breath when Dean's hand found the skin of your stomach and squeezed into the front of your jeans. There wasn't much stretch to this style of denim though and he relented when you grunted at the tightness. Maybe you should've worn a dress or leggings but it was too cold for any of that and these jeans made your butt look good.

"I wanna go outside." You tugged Dean towards the door but he didn't budge. "Come on." You whined.

Dean groaned and sighed exasperatedly as you put on your shoes and ran outside, coaxing him along with a flirty curl of your finger.

"Fine," Dean rolled his eyes and shoved on his boots.

The second he stepped out the door you smacked him in the face with a lightly packed snowball and giggled. You didn't intend to stay outside long so neither of you bothered with a coat. It actually wasn't all that cold either.

"Oh, you're in for it now." He said, wiping his face and chasing after you.

Snow crunching under his feet as he grabbed you around the waist and spun you around with him, lifting your feet off the ground for a moment. You laughed and squealed until Dean released you and you grabbed onto him and jumped on his back, shoving a handful of snow down the back of his shirt.

"Holy shit, that's cold!" Dean cursed and arched his back but since you clung to him there was no amount of squirming he could do to dislodge the snow. "Fuck, Y/N! You're gonna pay for that!"

You giggled and hopped down from your perch on his hips, attempting to escape his grasp when he turned to grab you. But you were too slow and he lifted you in his arms with a hand under your knees and one on your waist. You playfully struggled when he walked towards the deeper snow, knowing full well he was going to drop you in it.

"No! No, no, Dean, I'm sorry! I give up! Please, it's too cold!" You pouted up at him with big Y/E/C eyes.

"Should've thought ahead, sweetheart, you know I have to do this."

"I won't do it again! I'll be good." You promised, but didn't actually try to get away from him.

You didn't want to get away from him. It was a game and he knew it too. There was no way he'd actually drop you in the snow.

"Is that so?" He stopped walking and looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow like he was questioning you. "Prove it."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss that made winter slip away. Your tongue played with his, welcoming the warmth of his mouth over yours. His lips, though slightly chapped, felt perfectly molded to you as they separated from your lips to attack your throat. You giggled when he hit a certain spot and your skin flushed with a heat like you were sipping on warmed Brandy. A type of heat that endangered your life because it pulled every ounce of it from your core to the surface where the brisk winter breeze could whip it away. But you weren't worried about that; with Dean's body pressed to yours, that heat just kept regenerating.

He sucked a sensitive spot on your neck until you could still feel the pressure of his lips even when he finally separated them from your skin. You knew the spot would be purple tomorrow but you liked it when he marked you and you planned to mark him back before the night was over.

You got caught up in the kiss and your mind didn't register the cold on your back until the snow melted and seeped into your shirt. Dean was hovering over you lying in the snow. Kissing all over your neck, his lips lingering below your ear when you whined and slid your icicle-like fingers up under the hem of his shirt. The muscles in his back tensed at the cold and he let out a pained grunt.

"Fuck, Y/N." Dean growled, grabbing your hands and pushing them back in the snow above your head. "Let me warm you up, baby." He breathed a sigh of relief and then he was kissing you again.

You whimpered and wrestled your arms away from the cold, piling the snow next to your body in the process as if you were making a half-assed snow angel. You pushed up on Dean's chest and rolled beneath him so that his hardness pressed against your butt and your front was assaulted by the snow instead. You didn't think this through and shivered against the new found chill that peaked your nipples under your shirt.

"Dean, this isn't working for me, s'too cold." You said, shuddering even though his warmth radiated through the damp clothes on your back.

"But I thought you liked the snow?" Dean teased but pushed up to adjust you both, wrapping his arm around your hips and pulling you up with him until you were kneeling in front of him on your hands and knees. "Better?" He asked as he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs in attempts to warm you.

You balled your fists in the snow to warm your fingers, but it wasn't working and you whined again, "Not much."

You felt his hand slide under the front of your shirt and bra, his palm lying flat on your ribs between your breasts as he pushed off the ground with his other hand. He pulled you back with him so that your hands were free of the harsh cold and you sat back on his thighs. He moved your hair over one shoulder so he could kiss at your neck.

"How about now?" He asked between nips to your delicate skin.

"Better, but maybe we should move this to the bedroom?" You moaned when he sucked the same mark he'd made earlier, "Dean."

"Y/N," he matched your tone and his fingers moved to the buttons on your jeans. He popped one of them open and then two, three... and then, "Why the fuck do you need so many buttons?"

You could've told him you liked the style but instead you turned your head and captured his mouth in a wet kiss that both warmed and chilled your lips in the winter breeze. You giggled into his mouth and dragged your tongue against his, eliciting a deep groan from him that you felt vibrating through his chest. He tasted sweet and tart, like apples. Apple pie, actually. Dessert.

His hand slipped into the front of your panties and you felt his fingers comb through your short hairs, seeking out your warmth.

You gasped, "O-oh my go- Dean!" You grabbed his wrist and leaned back into him.

His hand was fucking cold!

Dean smiled into the kiss he placed to your lips and his other hand slid under your shirt to cup one of your bra-clad breasts, his thumb tracing over your hardened nipple. You squealed when he pinched the bud with a teasing strength and you twisted in his hold until you were straddling his lap again. You rolled your hips into his and he groaned in your ear. Loud in the dead silence of the winter storm surrounding your sleepy neighbourhood.

It wasn't long before the cold, wet snow soaked into the back of his jeans as well and he couldn't take it anymore, "Sweetheart, I can't feel my ass and I swear my balls are turning blue."

"Are you telling me you have blue balls?" You laughed.

"In more ways than one, trust me."

"I could fix that, in a nice, warm bed," you rolled your hips again and bit your lip to muffle a moan. He did the same.

"Keep doing that and we aren't gonna make it there." He clamped his eyes shut and growled when you did it again. "Fuck, Y/N."

Something about the cold made your bodies more sensitive, except for the nerve endings in your fingertips which numbed in your fisted palms as you tried to warm them up.

You had a sudden thought, Dean was warm, and you shoved your hands into the back of his shirt, stretching out the neck hole.

"Dammit, that's it!" Dean grit his teeth together and clutched your hips. "I'm done with your fucking teasing, Y/N-"

Finally!

His eyes were dark and fierce, and you loved how you did that to him. His threats were words. You both knew it. But you kinda hoped tonight he'd finally follow through on them and take you in that bed of his. It would've happened last time if he wasn't such a good big brother.

His hands slid up the back of your shirt and held your shoulders, pulling you flush to him. He kissed and nipped at your lips like a starved animal and you realized he had no intentions of moving your escapades anywhere other than right there.

And it was getting colder the more the snow melted into your clothes... at least, your neighbours were asleep, probably, right? It was late. Your defrosted fingers moved over his skin, feeling his shoulder blades roll when his hands started to roam down your back and slipped into the seat of your jeans. His hands cupped your cheeks and you jumped and giggled when he squeezed your butt firmly.

You started a slow rhythm, rubbing yourself against him and listening to his breath get a little heavier with each circle of your hips. It was intoxicating and you lost yourself in the feel of it, like the world outside of the both of you didn’t exist.

Then you heard a door slam and the porch light flicked on a couple of doors down.

You halted your movements and hid your face in the crook of Dean's neck when your cranky, old neighbour yelled over at you, “Get a room, lovebirds, you’re waking up the whole damn block with a free show!”

“Sorry, Bobby!” Dean called over and chuckled under his breath as the old man headed back inside, grumbling to himself.

He wasn’t wrong, the backyard was clearly visible from at least ten of your neighbours despite the wooden fences separating them. It wasn’t likely anyone else would be awake for the show at this hour, but now you knew at least one of them was and that was enough for Dean. He held your waist firmly when you tried to roll your hips again and glanced around at the darkened windows of his neighbours.

He huffed out a sigh and pushed back your hair, “Do you wanna take this to the bedroom, sweetheart?” He practically growled and you bit your lip and nodded under his hooded stare.

“More than anything.”

Your jeans were tight enough that they didn’t fall down your hips, despite being unbuttoned, as Dean led you back inside the house. He slid the door shut behind himself and locked it, throwing closed the velvet curtains as well. Now it was just you and him. Nothing between you, nothing to keep you from exploring each others bodies until dawn broke through the storm and cast the light of a new day on the fluffy blanket of snow littering the ground outside.

Until then, the storm raged on, as did the butterflies in your stomach when Dean took a step closer to you.

You were frozen, your breath, your heart, your Y/E/C eyes locked in his gaze and everything moved in slow motion. He walked towards you -only a couple of feet away in reality but it felt like it took him forever to close that distance- then grabbed your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder.

You puffed out a breath and laughed, suddenly unfrozen by the unexpected silliness of his actions, “Ah-HA-HA-ha-D-Dean!”

He carried you to his bedroom, patting his large hand over the wet butt of your jeans before he tossed you onto the bed. A king-sized bed with the comforters and sheets haphazardly thrown over it, made-up like he wasn’t expecting the evening to wind up here. But this was exactly where you saw it going and exactly why you started kissing him during that Hallmark movie. It all felt like an incredibly long build up to what would’ve happened with any other guy already; simply because any other guy was not Dean and Dean was not a one-and-done type of guy.

Sure, he came off that way when you first met him but the more you got to know him, the more you saw the hopeless romantic buried deep inside. He was a decent guy who took pride in his family, his little brother, and it genuinely hurt him when you thought he was that shallow; he was anything but. He took care of you when you were at your most vulnerable and he didn’t take advantage even when you threw yourself at him. Multiple times!

Tonight was going to be a different story. You weren’t high, you weren’t even a little buzzed and neither was he.

The way Dean was looking at you made your heart flutter and your palms sweat. You sucked in a breath and shuddered like you’d been edging yourself over and over again and that damn dam was finally about to break after weeks of interruptions and him playing it slow. He had you, what was he waiting for?

“If you don’t stop staring at me and get in this bed, I swear I will finish myself off without you and go home.” You threatened and raised your eyebrows in question like you were actually expecting him to challenge you on the matter but he just sighed and palmed his face.

“Holy fuck, Y/N, don’t say shit like that.” He breathed heavily and adjusted the crotch of his jeans, “You have no idea how hard this is.”

“That’s kind of the point, Dean.”

“That’s not what I meant, sassy-pants. It’s just… I-don’t-know-how-long-I’m-gonna-last,” he said as quickly as possible before he lost the nerve and shifted on his feet as he avoided meeting your eyes.

“I’m pent up, too, Dean. I promise I won’t judge you on our first time together as long as you promise not to judge my body, especially my stretch marks.” You crossed your heart and he met your warm gaze.

You told yourself everyone has stretch marks and on a hot summer day you’d say fuck it and wear what you wanted but that didn’t mean you accepted them. Not completely, you’d always be a little self-conscious and that you were fine with because it was only the opinion of one person that meant anything to you. Yourself… -Okay, maybe a small part cared what Dean thought, too; but only because you didn’t want him to be a dick like any other guy.

“That’s really not the same thing,” he shook his head.

“Well, not to you because you’re a guy. I don’t care if you get performance anxiety or if you come before we even get started, so long as you treat me right and so far, you have. Better than any other guy from those stupid dating apps and let’s face it, it’s not hard to be better in that area than those guys. Most of the time they’re only in it for themselves and you are the complete opposite as far as I’ve seen.” You said, but he still looked kind of nervous and you crawled off the bed to stand before him. “If you want to wait, Dean, if this is too much pressure right now, I’m cool with that. I won’t get mad or offended.”

That seemed to get through to him and he smiled, his eyes practically twinkling in the low light of the bedside table lamp.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed and pulled you in by your waist to kiss you hard. "You're perfect just the way you are, stretch marks and all."

His lips bruised yours as you sighed into his mouth, "You haven't even seen me yet."

"Yes, I have and you're fucking gorgeous." He chuckled when you soured your face in confusion, "Don't tell me you forgot our first date already."

Of course, in the shower, when you were flying high on that 'Aspirin'. How could you forget?!

You rolled your eyes, "That was not a date! And you could barely look me in the eye let alone anywhere else! I doubt you saw much of anything."

"Oh, I saw enough." He smirked. "And without coming off as a total creep, I loved every inch of you." He chuckled breathily and smirked again, "You're the woman for me and I don’t wanna wait.”

His thumbs hooked in the waistband of your jeans and he pushed them down your hips, leaving you in your shirt and panties. You stumbled against him when you tried to kick the jeans off the rest of the way and he laughed as he pushed you to sit down on the bed. He knelt on the carpet in front of you and lifted your feet to rest on his knee, then untangled your feet from your jeans and tossed them on the floor to the side, taking your socks with them.

Your breaths were shallow and your body hummed at the feel of his hot, rough hands on your bare skin. His palms dragging up your calves, feeling your smooth skin all the way up to your thighs. You didn’t care that your cheeks were probably bright red when you saw the smirk tugging at his lips.

His hands moved under your shirt next, waiting until you lifted your arms to let him strip it off of you. You shivered and he leaned in to kiss your bra-clad chest, tossing the material in his hands in the same direction as your jeans. You moaned with his fingers all over you, on your legs, your stomach, your breasts, and when they slid into the front of your panties again you squirmed, sensitive and suddenly aware that he was far too dressed for your liking.

“You give me shit for my buttons,” you tugged Dean’s henley over his head, leaving him in his short sleeve shirt, after stripping him of his flannel, “-Yet, you wear too many frigging layers!”

Dean laughed and pulled the last shirt off over his head, tossing it into the rather large pile of clothing on the floor.

“Why do you hide that body?” You asked rhetorically, although you wouldn’t have minded an answer; you were pretty sure he only did it to frustrate you. And probably every other woman on the planet. You traced the freckles on his shoulders with your fingertips, “You are so fucking gorgeous.”

“Men like to be called handsome.”

“But... you’re not handsome, you are gorgeous!” You teased, trying to get him to loosen up and giggling when Dean pushed you back on the bed and blew a raspberry against your stomach. You squealed and wiggled as he held you down and did it again, “Okay! Okay, you’re handsome, too!”

“Gor-some?” He laughed, immaturely combining the compliments.

“Hand-geous!"

“My beautiful, silly girl.” He smirked as he crawled over you on the bed with both your legs still awkwardly hanging off the edge. His lips trailing in the wake of his hands as he felt and kissed every inch of you. “Wait,” he grunted when your hands slipped between you to unbuckle his jeans. His skin felt like a furnace as he held them to his lower stomach; a nice reprieve from the snow earlier that had numbed your fingers. "Condom?”

“What?” You breathed, feeling too much to hear what he asked.

He breathed against your neck for a moment before he repeated, “Do we need a condom?”

“Yes.”

Dean pushed off of you and you pouted at the loss of his weight and heat over you, but you took the chance to rid yourself of your bra and panties and crawled to the centre of the bed; diving under the comforters and glancing over at him. You watched as he broke open a new box of condoms from his nightstand, feeling a little excited when the thought crossed your mind that he must’ve bought them just for you. Then he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and sat at the edge of the bed.

“This is always the awkward part, isn’t it?” You said, watching him tear open the foil and roll on the condom.

“It wasn’t until you said that.” He laughed and blushed.

“You’re so hand-geous,” you sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down sideways so you could kiss the red in his cheek.

He shifted in his seat to face you. “Gor-some,” he corrected and smirked, kissing you until you laid back on the bed with him hovering over you.

You smiled up at him, happy your attempts to be silly in order to calm him were working. You didn’t want him to be nervous with you, you were a team working towards the same goal. Both tonight in this bed and everyday in your blooming romance.

You spread your legs and hugged his hips with your knees as he settled in between them, feeling Dean’s breaths pick up as he lowered his forehead to your shoulder and froze. Taking a moment just to hold you and slow down. You rested your palms on his shoulder blades, fingertips embedding into his flesh and his muscles moving under them with each deep breath. Your hands started to wander.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned and scolded when you grabbed his ass playfully, “Y/N.”

“I couldn’t resist, it's so perky!" You shrugged under him as best as you could and he chuckled into the kiss he pressed to your lips.

“You’re irresistible, sweetheart,” he whispered below your ear and kept kissing you until your breaths were heavy against his skin.

He rested his weight on you, just enough to press you into the mattress but not enough to steal your breath completely. He slid his arm under your back and gripped your shoulder as he kept kissing your neck until you started to moan softly in his ear.

Then he reached between you and slipped two fingers into your centre and you gasped. You didn’t expect it and whimpered as he quickly built you up to the edge. Your chest moving briskly against his with sweat beading between your bodies and heat spreading between your thighs.

Dean's hand on your shoulder reached up and he tangled his fingers in your hair as he kissed you deeply. His tongue tasted yours before he nipped at your lips and pulled away.

“Ow-ow-ow! Dean, stop! Your watch is caught in my hair,” you gasped.

"Shit, sorry, sweetheart." Dean panted, grunting as his fingers left your centre to remove his watch and untangle it from your hair. "Good?"

"Yeah," you breathed and clutched at his ribs, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and pecking along his jaw.

Your hand went to his bicep and Dean hummed when you rolled your hips up to meet him impatiently. He shifted and your head fell back against the pillow as he pushed into you. You locked your ankles around his lower back and clamped your teeth into his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Dean let out a pained grunt and ground his hips into yours. The muscles in his arms tensing as he held the back of your hips. Going deeper and harder with each thrust until you were brought over the edge.

You wrapped your arms around him to keep him close, waves of pleasure spreading through your extremities as Dean shuddered and stilled on top of you. His breath was hot in your ear when he pressed a lingering, wet kiss to your cheek; the weight of his body wrapped over you and pinning you to the mattress.

"That was-" you panted.

"-Wow," he chuckled breathlessly and rested his forehead against yours.

You stared into his eyes and pecked a kiss to his lips, "Did you know your eyes are green?"

He chuckled again, "All my life, sweetheart.”

"But -like, so green."

You ran your fingertips over his cheeks, feeling his lashes brush your thumbs when he closed his eyes and sighed. Warm and content, soaking in the feeling of you in his arms with your breasts squished against his chest, rising and falling with each steadying breath. Bodies still tangled together as your knees hugged his hips. Neither of you pulled away from each other as you kissed him passionately because you couldn't not kiss that smile on his face.

"Can we do that again?" You asked and scratched your nails through his hair.

Dean shook his head and chuckled to himself, "Fuck me," he hid his reddening cheeks in the crook of your neck. He placed a kiss to your sweat coated shoulder, then another one to your collarbone before answering. "Soon, Y/N. Give me a minute to catch my breath."

He kissed your mouth again and you felt him smile against your skin. You hummed and continued to run your fingers through his hair.

"Can't wait to see how you celebrate New Year's." He mumbled against your lips.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Dean, we're hardly done celebrating tonight." You teased and dug your heels into his ass.

Dean grunted, "Insatiable girl."

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

#tell me a story bingo #spnchristmasbingo #dean x reader #au!dean x reader #neighbour!dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x #dean x #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean smut #supernatural reader insert #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean spn #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #happy hour

[mrsackermanx]

INDECISIVE

Aki just can’t seem to let you go.

wc: 2.5k

tags: kinda mean toxic ex aki, soft dom though, choking, break-up, the brainrot i have for this man is just ridiculous right now.

authors note: ive not wrote any other character than levi in so long omg, id forgot what it felt like to characterise a character if that makes sense?? i wrote this quick, trying to get a feel for writing him though 🥺!

new account @mrsackermannx

You toss and turn in your sheets, it’s strange getting used to your own bed again. Weeks feel like months when you’re clambering into cold sheets alone every night. 

The awakening in the morning is a cruel one too.

That steady breathing, those large rough hands on your hips squeezing in affirmation. Those deep octaves humming against your neck, normally so droll, so by the book. But when spoken to you at night, only the softest sweetest praises are uttered against your skin. Followed by heated curses or moans or both; sometimes even cries, depending on the day or the week.

That rich scent of fresh linen and tobacco. His soft black hair falling silkily through your fingertips. 

Moving out of Aki’s place hurt.

Not being able to stroke and clutch at the soft cotton of his nightshirts whilst he presses his lips to your cheek. Hurts.

“I have to be more serious, I have to consider my goal. Please, go back to your apartment and join the civilian sector. I just want you to be happy.”

You curse the tears rolling down your cheeks, the way you clutch at your own knees for a sense of familiar stability. What’s worse is the way the air in your lungs is starting to feel like water, all at the thought of that conversation.

Passing him in the halls at Headquarters doesn’t get easier either. Today he only spared a mumbled hello, without even a second glance. 

Life moves on. Right?

Three slow raps sound at your apartment door. You groggily squint at your alarm clock, for once the streetlight shining obnoxiously through your window does the trick. It’s just past midnight or near two in the morning, you can’t decide. 

You bury your head under your pillow with a groan. It’s probably Himeno barging over for a late night drink, if you ignore her long enough she’ll go away, hopefully. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You gasp in the dark, pulling yourself out of bed, you head down the hall with light footsteps, like a moth to a flame. 

“I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”

Your palm hovers over the door and you sigh, a silent ‘fuck’ following from your lips. “It’s late and a weekday. Not your usual MO.” 

“You gonna open the door?”

“Maybe if you say please.”

This time he sighs, “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

You open your door to him. He’s still in his work clothes, his cheeks red from the cold. 

“You look cold.”

“Cause I am.” He peers down at you and with a small smile rests the backs of his fingers under your cheekbones. “Seems like you’re cold too, half dressed like that.”

However reluctantly, you bat his hands away, walking toward the kitchen. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

He scoffs, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You can’t help but smile hearing him shuffle behind you, no doubt putting his shoes in a perfect parallel line to yours. Somehow everything Aki does is endearing, even when you’re mad at him. 

“I wanted to see you,” he hums.

You simply huff, rustling through your cupboards for some clean mugs. Yet you can feel his presence behind you, intense and yearning. 

You swallow, “So…D’you want tea or…who knew. I have coffee beans-“

“You’re in my shirt.” You startle when two of his arms cross around your waist, and his chin rests upon your head.

“Which do you want, Aki?” you ask firmly, pressing your lips together when his hands slide under your shirt. 

“I want you.” He stresses every syllable, toying with your nipples and scoffing when they pebble. “You came to the door in practically nothing, invited me in, like this. In my shirt.” 

Your cheeks burn, you’d not noticed until this very second, he’s caught you like this. In one of his black shirts and panties. 

He grips at your breasts, pinching your nipples so hard you choke up. “It’s okay,” he coos, his jaw tightening at the way you moan into your palm. 

“You like that? When I take it all out on you like this?…It’s been a long day, and all I could think about was you.”

“Aki. You can never make up your fucking mind.”

“You know I can’t live without you, because you’re the same. This is my shirt, isn’t it?” he quips, one hand gripping your throat.

“Maybe,” you hiss, groaning when he bends you forward, tugging up the hem of your shirt to expose your ass. 

He reaches his hand back and slaps, your response is instantaneous. Somewhere between a loud moan and his name. His favourite combination. 

“Do I need to ask you again? Or are you going to be difficult?” 

“Fuck you.” 

In a matter of seconds he’s hoisting you onto the kitchen counter. Slotting himself between your legs with a hand on each of your knees. 

Just like clockwork. 

He stands back to admire you, hissing your name under his breath like a curse. “Fuck you, right back,” he mutters breathlessly, kneeling below you with that dark glint in his eye. “How about that?” 

“I mean it,” you spit, but with no venom in your voice. 

“Of course, you’re still mad. But I can make it up to you. I’ve always been good at that, haven’t I?”

The heat inside of you stirs and you find yourself throbbing and clenching on nothing, pooling for him even. There’s something about Aki when he’s like this, full of affection and frustration. 

His sweet talk makes you feel like you could ask for the world, but his tone makes you want to bend over for him, and let him print his hand all over. 

He tugs at his own shirt collar because he can hardly breathe, his lips skimming along your thighs.

“I don’t wanna make up,” you squeak, moaning muffled into your wrist when his hands latch onto the waistband of your panties.

“Is that why you’re sleeping with my shirt on? Because you hate me so much?” he taunts. “You’ve not been thinking of me?” 

“You’re so fucking mean,” you pant, breath hitching as he drags your panties down your thighs.

He whistles, “Then why are your panties ruined?”

He pulls them off completely, rising to tower above you. He lifts his brow, “Well? You can use your mouth, right? Had no problem using it to insult me a moment ago.”

In a lurch of a movement you thrust your arms around his neck, pulling him close. His lips seek yours. He kisses you with a deep seated passion, his mouth hot and patient.

He gasps and moans deeply into your mouth, clutching you tight, carrying you down the hall. The kiss only breaks when he kicks your door open and drops you down carefully below him, 

“Still if you won’t use your mouth, I won’t use mine.”

He taps at your hips and you rise your arms, allowing him to pull away his shirt. After he throws it behind him, you instinctively turn to see where it lands. “Don’t take it with you,” you whisper. “Please.”

It’s almost like he feels his heart break there and then. 

“I won’t.” he promises, firmly, and then his hands are on your body and so are his lips, in earnest. 

“You still smell like me, fuck. That’s because you’re all mine, understood?”

“As if I could forget,” you breathe.

His hand adorns your neck first, stroking at the way your blood hammers under his forefinger. He squeezes softly and then tugs you to his lips, smiling against your mouth. “This shirt reminded me of all the times I fucked you to sleep. You shouldn’t have come to the door in it.” 

“Don’t make threats you can’t keep.”

A deep laugh leaves his lips, affectionate and content. His lips lock with yours with a desperate fervour once more. Your hands tug at his hair tie, letting his hair free, you pull on it and he groans shakily. “I missed you. Your smell, your lips, your face. Your voice.”

“I missed you more than anything,” you cry into his lips, working away his blazer while his hair tickles your forehead. He helps, chuckling at the way you both paw at his shirt buttons. 

Then finally, your hands fuse to his hot skin and he’s struggling to hold back. Flattened fingers slide down your torso until they reach your sex. He moans into your ear when he feels you dripping just for him. “Oh fuck, I can’t wait to feel you.” 

“Aki, oh fuck.” He slides two fingers into your pussy and out again, working your slick on his fingers. You peer up to face the dark blue of his eyes, and he loses all composure seeing the love in yours. He slides the fingers into your mouth, silently demanding your obedience.

You suck away your juices with ardour and he moans, eagerly bringing them back to your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, especially like this.” 

You slide your hands through his hair and pull, he’s always loved that. “More, huh?” He slides his fingers in until they’re knuckle deep, taking your breath at the same time as his lips lock with yours. Your legs hook around his lower back, needing to be closer, quivering beneath him at his touch. 

“You think I forgot how you like your pussy touched? How you need to be worked upon?” 

You stammer a breathless ‘no’ and his lips reach your neck. He kisses at the skin with possession, sucking and teasing his teeth to mark you. His other hand splays against your abdomen, joining his thumb to your clit as he continues to pulse his 

his fingers into you.

“Aki, too much!”

“No, you can take it.” He only continues, hammering his fingers into you even faster. Those long fingers of his reaching that deep spot inside of you only he’s ever been able to reach. 

“If you can’t take this then you can’t take me. Which is it?”

“I can,” you moan brokenly, your hips twitching and bucking up into his. The pleasure starts to coast along your nerves, washing through your body until you’re shaking and whimpering under him. “I want you, need to feel you again.”

His voice is breathy and raw in your ear, his teeth nipping playfully on your earlobe. “That’s my girl, come for me. I don’t want to stretch you too fucking tight tonight.” That mocking lilt to his voice all the more intoxicating.

“So, come on my fucking fingers, now.”

Aki prides himself on how well and how much he’s managed to gain this control of your body, months of deep appreciation and learning brought him to this point. He knows the right ways to suck and flick at your cunt until you burst. 

You pant out his name endlessly, hazy as he journeys down your body with kisses. A silent shriek leaving your lips when he suddenly pulls your hips toward his face. 

His hands sink into your hips and his mouth latches on to your pussy. “Aki, t-too sensitive!”

He rolls his tongue between your lips, catching the beads of your taste. But you’re shaking so much he decides to go easy on you, so he works away his pants, before hurrying back to your embrace.

Unwilling to let you go, both of his hands clutch your cheeks, kissing and coaxing your breathing down. He leans his back against the headboard and brings you close. 

“Sit on it,” he pants into your lips, his hand hard enough to bruise your hip. “Please.” 

You nod, reaching to guide him he bats your hand away. You moan at the gesture. Your peer down and make out the abundant gleam of arousal shining on his cock. You lift your hips for him and then he sounds like he’s struggling to breathe too. “Just like that, that’s my girl,” he stammers.

He swirls himself in your slick, clutching your neck he pulls you in for a deep kiss. “Feel me,” he drawls, sliding himself inside. You feel his lips stretch into a smile as you fill his mouth with moans. “Tell me how it feels, for you.”

You’re barely capable of words, you know Aki. He wants to know how this feels emotionally, as well as physically. He’s sneaky like that, catching you of guard when you’re stuffed full of his cock.

“G-good,” You slur. “Like I needed to feel you like this, even though it's a stretch.” 

“But you always stretch to take me like the good girl you really are, right?” 

“Always.” You roll your hips but get halted by his hands. “Aki,” you whimper, “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I’d never,” His lips press against your cheek, “Just wanna make you feel even better. I’ve treated you so terribly.” 

Just like that, you’re being held in Aki’s arms like you weigh nothing. He holds you above his own body and fucks you with his cock, not letting you do a second of the work. 

“Fuck I missed you. You’re so fucking warm, so fucking wet,” he grunts. 

You’re like putty in his arms, “So d-deep. Aki. Aki, please.”

“You’re just what I needed, today. What I always need.” 

He’s hitting so deep and so pleasurably, your mind is devoid of anything but him at this moment. The familiar scent of his skin, of his hair, the sound of him gruff yet so gracefully undone in your ear is all too much. “I love you.”

“I love you, please. Move back in. I’ve been an idiot.” 

Your lips meet in the middle and tears fall amongst the desperate sounds of your bodies merging. 

Aki starts to moan louder the more you clench on him, so close to your own undoing. “I’ve missed being inside you, feeling you. Touching myself could never fucking, come close.” 

“I’m still on the pill, so you can,”

“Oh fuck, please don’t tell me that. So I can come inside.” His voice grows even shakier, his hands gripping your breasts. “Make yourself come first, I'm too close.” 

You nod eagerly, he’s been keeping you on the edge for far too long. Through lidded eyes he watches as you fuck yourself on his cock. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that?” 

“Aki.” Gripping his thighs behind you, you lean to give him a salacious view of your pussy swallowing his cock.

Grinning, he works his thumb onto your clit once more, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bud. “Go on then, pretty girl. If you’re gonna show off like that,” he teases breathlessly. “Then show me how you come on it too.”

He’s ruthless, flicking your clit as he meets your hips in the middle. It all feels too good, years of experience of each other’s bodies being used all too well.

“Aki, I’m close.” He clutches your neck, aiding the intensity of your finish. You pussy squeezing him so tight he comes in an instant. Whimpering out 

your name as he fills you with his come. 

“Oh my fuck.” You collapse against his chest and he holds you tight, immediately. 

As the minutes depart, your breaths slow in unison, holding each other in the now stark silence of the dark, his hand finds yours. 

Your heartbeat’s sync. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair. “Forgive me.”

MrsAckermanX 2022 © do not repost or translate my work.

#aki hayakawa #aki x reader #csm fanfic #minors do not interact

[itslottiehere]

even the sun gets clouded sometimes (h.s) —  part three

hello beautiful people! here we are, part three is all yours. this fic means so much to me, and this part is extremely autobiographic, and i just hope you don’t mind that lol. i just wanted to thank you again for the crazy support i received on this fic, it still doesn’t feel real. thank you, thank you, thank you. please, as always, read the trigger warnings. it’s a sensitive topic, and i don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. as always, please leave your feedback in my asks on in the tags, it’s really important! without further ado, happy reading! love you all <3

> part one | part two

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

tw: angst, fluff, swearing, talk of self harm.

word count: 8.4k (grab a snack)

—

their movie nights became a regular thing. every week, one of them would text the other “movie night?” and in a half hour at most they were sitting on her couch, a take out of some sorts on the coffee table, deciding who could choose the movie that night. it usually happened after a hard day, like when harry’s car got totalled (and he got to sleep on her couch again. “double win this time”, he thought) or when she had back to back clients who were way too rude, and she just wanted to relax. if someone had asked her a month before if she thought about spending time with harry as “relaxing”, she would’ve laughed at their faces for 10 minutes straight. but it turned out that harry’s a great listener, a really good one. maybe not so much at giving advice.

“just tell him to fuck off.”

“harry, i can’t do that, he’s my boss!”

“and what? bosses can’t fuck off?” 

this went on for a few weeks, and in that time she got to know a little bit more of harry: his interests, his hobbies, the movies he liked best.

he was a real fan of romcoms, and the dichotomy was extremely funny: a tall, well-built man, who had a resting face that seemed to be of someone bothered 24/7, who teared up whenever he saw a cliché love story.

harry would argue all the time that he was definitely not crying, and she’d let it slide. it was kinda cute. 

she also learned that harry was a lover of cats, and wished he could get one but feared that they were going to get lonely, with him being out most of the time.

“it’d be nice to have someone around, you know? the apartment gets lonely sometimes.”

she nodded solemnly, understanding perfectly what he was saying. sometimes it was just nice to have someone there with you. not in a romantic way, not even in a friendly way, but just in.. an existing together kind of way. 

she felt the same often, and that’s why niall was frequently over at her place. he loved being at her’s — mostly for the couch and the beer she kept just for him in the fridge — and she liked the company.

harry actually found out a bit more about her. she didn’t share much — and he didn’t dare ask any personal questions this time, still embarrassed about what happened almost two months and a half before. but he learned what she did for a living, which was interesting.

“yeah, i work for a publishing company. that’s why i have a thousand books all over, i can’t seem to find a place for every one of them. but it’s okay, i love being surrounded by them.”

“but the others say that you’re on the night shift whenever you are not out with us, made me think you were a nurse?”

“oh well, they say that when i stay late at the office. i usually stay there till after 11pm, hence why they call it “the night shift”.”

“why do you stay so late?” harry inquired, putting his chin into his hand, leaning a bit forward.

“sometimes it’s because i have a deadline, or because i’m reading a draft that’s just too captivating and i didn’t even realise that time passed. i really enjoy my job, and even if sometimes i have to deal with not-so-nice clients or a crabby boss, i love it all the same.” 

“i see, that’s pretty great, actually. not many people get to say that about their job, you know?” she just nodded. “so, any new novels i should be on the lookout for?”

on friday night, harry texted her “movie night?”, even though they already had one on monday, but he was so tired from the week and just wanted to relax. and seeing her was what made him the most relaxed.

more times than not, he wouldn’t be able to finish the movie, nodding off about halfway. then he was waken up by soft — albeit, slightly cold — hands of a certain someone, who put a quilt that smelled so much like her on him and was picking up his legs, urging him to lay down and get in a more comfortable position.

she never woke him up telling him to go home, just offered him a place to stay. he really couldn’t put into words how much he appreciated that.

so, he was hoping to see her and perhaps get to sleep on that soft couch, surrounded by everything that reminded him of her. he didn’t know if it was weird, how much comfort she brought him. 

all his hopes were crushed when she texted him back.

“i’m so sorry, i’m on the night shift. rain check?” 

he stopped in his tracks. he was already on his way to pick up dinner, because she never said no. 

not even when she was on her period and wanted to just be swaddled in a soft blanket, away from the world. she told him that he could come over, but she had one simple condition.

“please bring over the greasiest burger you can think of. there’s an extra key under the doormat, i can’t stand up.” 

when he arrived, he did find the keys and he opened the door. he saw her all curled on the couch, and he could’ve just smothered her cheeks with kisses.

the thought scared him at first, but when he really thought of it, it was the same feeling he got whenever he saw a cute little kitten or puppy. like, a cute aggression kind of feeling. 

he saw her face light up as soon as he came in her line of sight.

“well, that’s a nice change.” he thought. perhaps her smile was directed to the burger sitting in the bag on the coffee table, but harry thought it was directed to him as well.

so, to hear her say she couldn’t make it to movie night, made him frown. he really, really wanted to see her. he was even going to let her choose the movie! 

but a change of plans was needed.

—

it was nearing 8pm, her stomach was rumbling and her eyes were about to close. all she wanted that night was go home, have a nice bath and get into some cozy pjs, preparing herself for the christmas shopping she had to do during the weekend. 

the thought of asking harry to come over for a movie night crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to bother him, he probably had better plans for a friday night. she was more of a homebody, so staying at home sounded like a dream, but harry told her he liked going out in clubs and such.

that’s why she was surprised when he texted her, and she hated telling him no, but she had too many things on the following monday, so she thought she would get ahead as much as she could.

which meant that she had to turn down movie night, and she just knew he had that cute pout on his lips, that he’d get once she’d won the third round of “rock, paper, scissors” for who could choose the movie that night.

around 8:15, there was a soft knock on her office door.

“oh sorry guys, i’ll get out right now but you can also not clean this room, i’m going home late!” she got up from her chair and started picking up her papers so she could get out of the cleaning crew’s hair.

but when a familiar mop of curly hair came through the door, she stopped cleaning up.

“harry? what are you doing here? is everything okay?”

“yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. i brought dinner.” he came through the door and walked into her office.

“but... why? a-and how do you know where i work?” she looked at him quizzically.

“i texted sarah and asked her for the address. and why? can’t i just want to see you?”

she couldn’t stop her cheeks from getting warm, as warm as the feeling she was feeling in her belly. he wanted to see her. 

“no no, of course.” she coughed a little. “please sit. and thank you so much, i’m so hungry.”

“yeah, i know, i could hear your stomach growling from the end of the hall.” he chuckled.

“hey!” she acted offended, but was smiling as wide as him.

they ate their dinner — well, she inhaled her food — and they chatted a bit.

“so, tell me more about your job. about you, in general. it feels like i’ve done all the talking these last couple of months.” he cleaned his hands on the paper towel, getting his fingers clean from the sticky sauce.

“uhm, i don’t have much to tell, i’m not that interesting to be honest.”

“i think i have to disagree.” he looked up at her, and she could feel herself swoon. “why are you here tonight?”

“oh, i just have back to back staff meetings on monday morning, and then i have meetings with clients in the afternoon and i’m not going to be done with everything in time if i don’t stay late tonight. i need to have the weekend free of work.” she confessed, clearing up her desk from their containers. 

“need a weekend away from everything?” he wondered. 

“i do, yeah.” she smiled. “but that’s not happening this weekend, unfortunately. i have to shop for christmas presents, i’m already late and i have to get them all at once, and it’s really overwhelming.” she sighed.

“you’re tired.” he noted.

“not all that nice to hear that for a woman, you know? it means i look bad.” 

“no, it’s not what i meant. i just can see your eyes halfway closed. you can’t work right now, you’re falling asleep.”

“but i need to, harry, i have to fin-“

“no, you don’t.” he interrupted her, his gaze piercing. “i’m getting you home. and i won’t take no for an answer.” 

“but harry, i-“

“nope. we’re going home.”

“but-“

“do i need to pick you up and carry you to the car? because i will do it if you keep fighting me on this.”

she looked at him, wondering how the hell they ended up there. 

harry just tilted his head to the side. “you ready?”

it felt like she had no other choice but to nod.

—

when she asked him to stay and watch a movie, harry couldn’t say no, finally getting what he wanted all along.

this time he knew he probably wasn’t going to be the one to fall asleep first, for once! as soon as she was asleep and in bed, he was going to go home. 

his plans slightly changed though, because a sleepyhead decided to rest her head on his lap, and he couldn’t move an inch. he wouldn’t.

and honestly? he really didn’t want to. 

it was like when a cat decides to rest its head on you. you are the chosen one, and you will not move till the cat moves first. 

now, instead of a cute ball of fur, there was a just as cute girl, curled up with her hand close to his knee, lightly fisting the fabric of his trousers. 

she didn’t fall asleep that way, but when harry saw the uncomfortable position in which she passed out, he had to do something to make her a little more comfortable. and that’s how they ended up here.

he saw her sleeping before — at adam’s cabin, especially — but never got to linger on her features.

he could see she had a slight furrow in her brows, and he just wanted to put the pad of his finger against her skin and smooth it out. was she having a bad dream? was she overthinking even when asleep? was she uncomfortable? 

then he focused on the curve of her nose, and lastly on her lips. they were slightly pouted, a bit open, and just looked so soft. so pretty, and pink, and soft.

harry couldn’t say this was the first time he thought something like that. he found himself often looking at her lips, especially since she told him she usually focuses on them when people talk.

“like, i don’t want to seem like a creep, but if i don’t watch a person’s mouth while they talk to me, it’s like 90% of the information doesn’t reach my ears.” 

and since then, he couldn’t stop himself from doing that. although, he often did that with her only. 

huh, weird.

and then he started watching her lips when she would eat, seeing how she kept them shut while she was chewing, because she couldn’t bear hearing people making noises with their mouths when they eat. harry got a pillow straight to his face one time, followed by the threat of her smashing his teeth in if he didn’t cut it out. a feisty one, she is.

and while he observed them in all of these occasions, he noticed how plump they were, how pink and just... pretty.

one night, when he was a bit tipsy, he was just about to tell her all of this, but thanks to his lucky starts sarah unknowingly came to his rescue, tearing her away from him and dragging her to the bathroom.

he thought that was for the best, she should never had to know the thoughts he had swirling through his mind. it mostly happened when he was unconscious, especially when he was staying over at her house.

“it’s just because you’re literally surrounded by her stuff. you are in her apartment, on her couch, with her quilt around you, her smell lingering. it’s fine.” he thought to himself, a pathetic way of shoving his dreams out of his mind.

when he first dreamt about kissing her, he was scared shitless. they had been friends for about a little over a month then, and he felt a bit weird dreaming about a friend that way. 

it wasn’t even something dirty, they were just having fun at the park, he was pushing her on the swings.

“higher, harry, higher!” 

“love, if i push you any higher you’re going to fall!” he said laughing.

“i don’t care, just do that, please!”

“no love, i can’t, you’re gonna get hurt.” 

she started slowing down once he stopped pushing her and when she was almost still, he came in front of her, stopping her for good when he placed his hands on her knees, crouching down a little to get to her face level.

when he caught the look she had on her face, he could’ve just melted. she was pouting, pouting, for pete’s sake.

“hey, what’s this all about?” he said, pointing at her lips.

“you didn’t push me higher.” she looked at him, trying her hardest to keep her pouting face, but he could see the smile that wanted to creep up on her face. 

“aw baby, want me to make it better?” he said sweetly, tilting his head to the side.

“yes, please. thank you.” she smiled a little, looking at him. 

and that’s when he leaned in, leaving a sweet kiss, taking her plush bottom lip between his. he could feel her crumble underneath his touch, even if he was seeing this from a third person point of view. he could feel the soft skin of her lips, tasting her cinnamon chapstick, and what he imagined — and was almost positive — she just tasted like: the sweetest nectarines of the best summer of your life.

when he pulled away, he saw her eyes were still closed, as if she was wanted to bask in the moment for just a second longer.

“made it better?” he told her, smirking at her still flushed face.

“mmh mmh, i think so.” she finally opened her eyes, and smiled back at him. “now, your turn!”

“love, how do you think you’re going to be able to push me!” 

“shut up, i’m strong.” he gave her a cut the bullshit look, and she was absolutely offended. “i’ll show you, c’mon! get on then!” 

he woke up gasping, looking around the room to understand where he was. when he realised he was at her apartment, he groaned a bit. of course he was. 

as said, he was scared. not just by the kiss itself, but by the sheer intimacy of it, because it clearly wasn’t the first they shared, anyone could’ve seen that. he also noticed how happy she was, how loud her laugh was, how comfortable she had to feel with him to show him her more childish side.

what scared him most, you ask?

the fact that he envied the dream version of him. 

ever since then, those kind of dreams came to his mind often, but he always pushed them aside, as games his mind was playing on him. he didn’t think about kissing her when he was awake, did he?

“no, i don’t”, he kept telling himself.

but seeing her all curled up against him, her lips looking so soft and plump made him think twice about his words. 

instead of just laying one on her — when she was unconscious, may he add — he decided to tuck the hair that fanned over her face behind her ear, with a touch so light he thought that he wasn’t even touching her. but he wanted this contact to last a little bit longer.

so, he lightly grazed his finger over her cheek. even her skin was soft as a pillow, what was wrong with her?

he run his thumb along her jaw, and when he felt her shift, he panicked.

“shit, shit, shit, don’t wake up, don’t wake up, please.” he murmured so quietly it was barely a whisper, putting his hands up as if she was going to go off like a bomb.

she didn’t wake up, but she did turn her head, from facing the tv to facing harry. she brought her hand again at — now — the top of his thighs, but instead of holding onto his trousers, she gripped his sweater, that was a bit baggy.

“thank fuck” he thought, because she would’ve grabbed his crotch if she didn’t find that sweater. 

—

after the movie was over — harry didn’t pay too much attention to it, after she fell asleep — he thought it was time to make her go to bed and rest properly. but he really didn’t want to wake her up.

so he tried to pry his sweater away from her fist, just so he could lay down her head on the couch and get up. he did just that, and once he was on his feet, he crouched down again, putting one arm under her knees and one under her back, picking her up. 

when she was finally in his arms, she curled up against him, tucking her head in his chest, a hand spread at the center of it. harry looked up to the ceiling, asking any god or ethereal being what the hell did he do to deserve this.

once they reached her bedroom door, he opened it with his foot and carried her to her bed. he tucked her in, and as he was about to leave when he felt someone gently take his wrist, and heard a soft voice, barely a whisper.

“stay over? don’t wanna wake up alone.”

and could he really say no to that? 

could he really say no to her? 

she was asleep before he could answer, so he just took her hand, squeezed it and told her under his breath. “of course, love.”

—

the following morning harry woke up before her, which was kind of unusual. she was usually the one who stirred him awake to have breakfast — she got better at cooking eggs and pancakes, so he didn’t have to lie anymore about just drinking coffee in the mornings. 

but last night she must’ve been spent, she probably wanted to sleep in a little more.

that gave him time to look around her living room, seeing how she decorated for christmas. there was a huge tree, probably almost three meters, with warm yellow fairy lights and red and gold adornments, a shiny star on the top.

then there were all kinds of trinkets all around, even little statues of mary, jesus and joseph, the whole nativity scene. he didn’t know she was a religious person. 

he thought it must’ve taken her so long to decorate all by herself, especially the tree. she probably climbed over something to put the star on top, risking to fall down and get hurt. couldn’t she have asked him to help her?

he decided to stop lurking and go into her kitchen to fetch some ingredients to make her breakfast, for a change. when breakfast was almost ready, he decided to go wake her up.

he walked into her bedroom as quietly as possible, not wanting to startle her awake. when harry reached her sleeping figure, he put his hand on her shoulder, shaking a little.

“good morning, sleepyhead. it’s time to wake up.”

she grunted in response.

“c’mon now, breakfast is almost ready.”

she grunted again, making him chuckle.

“not a morning person, are you?”

“just five more minutes, please.” she croaked. he muttered a low “alright”, and went to go back to the kitchen, but her fingers grabbed his wrist.

“stay here, i’m cold. heater must not be working properly.”

he couldn’t say if he was more happy or shocked by her request. smirking, he sat back down on the bed, close to her legs. but that wouldn’t cut it, clearly. 

“what are you doing all over there? get in here.” she moved the comforter and patted the bed underneath. when she noticed he wasn’t moving from his spot, she spoke up again. “hey, get in here quick, the heat is going to leave.”

he chuckled, and finally stood up and got into bed beside her. he wasn’t even in there for two seconds, that she was already wrapped around him, as if he was going to disappear.

“just five minutes, right?” he softly asked her, his arm going around her shoulders, hand on her bicep.

“yeah, five minutes.” her face was tucked in his neck, and he could feel her lips grazing the skin of his throat when she spoke.

she really was cold, and she had been the whole night. when he carried her to bed last night, she was half awake, and when she asked him to stay over, she imagined he was going to sleep with her in her bed. but then, he went back to the living room, and she was just too tired to call him back.

so, when harry came to wake her up, she tried putting it a little more plainly, and even then the man couldn’t take the hint. 

5 minutes soon turned into an half hour, and she can’t lie: she never felt so comfortable. who knew harry was so great at cuddling?

the both of them were in that sleepy state when you’re not really asleep but you’re not totally awake either, and if she didn’t have to run to the shops to buy christmas presents, then she would’ve stayed there for the whole day. 

harry could describe the feeling as heaven, nothing ever felt so right. how come they didn’t cuddle before? 

but other questions came to mind: what’s happening? why did he wish he could stay in this bed forever? why does her tracing patters on his chest make him feel like he’s on a rollercoaster? 

when they finally dragged themselves out of her bed — that was even more comfy than her couch, if possible — breakfast was indeed ruined and they decided to eat while they went out.

“wait, you want to go christmas shopping with me?”

“you’re the nut job who’s going shopping for presents five days before christmas. you need all the help you can get.”

and so, off to the shops they were.

but here’s the thing: how can you purchase a present for someone who’s right there with you? and what the hell would he like for a present? she had absolutely no clue what to get him.

maybe he wasn’t getting her a present, but she wouldn’t care, after all they started being friends only for a few months before, she wasn’t expecting anything from him. but hell was going to freeze over before she didn’t get him a present, that was for sure.

she got all the others presents, and harry went back to her apartment, looking like a porter with all the bags he had in hand.

“you sure you got everything? don’t you have a third grade cousin that needs something? or a remote uncle that you haven’t seen in 17 years?”

“my god, you should be a comedian.” she looked at him with a fake smile.

“i don’t even know how they are going to receive these if you bought them today.” he scoffed. “mind opening the door for me, darling?”

“i’m trying! you’re a pain in the ass, styles.” she grumbled. “and i’m going to spend tonight packing them, and then i’ll overnight them. i don’t know if they’ll get the presents in time for christmas, but it’s the thought that counts.”

she finally managed to open her apartment door, and let harry go in first: the man couldn’t wait to drop all the boxes and bags.

“and i wouldn’t have this problem if i went back home for the holidays, but i’m not, so here we are.” she said while closing the door.

“why aren’t you going home?” and why did she sound so upset about it?

“you know, work, life, stuff. i hope to see them a little later next year, but going back now was impossible for me.” she shrugged.

“i see. at least we’re going to spend it all together, though?”

“yeah, it’s going to be great, i bet.” she gave him a tight lipped smile, which didn’t sit right with him.

“what’s up?” he asked.

“nothing, what?”

“you’re not the only one who can read people. tell me what’s going on in your mind.” he looked at her pacing around the room, leaving the presents on the kitchen table.

“it’s nothing important, it’s probably going to sound so silly, you wouldn’t-“

“i wouldn’t have asked if i didn’t care. please, tell me.”

she took a deep breath and sat on the couch. “it’s just that christmas is my favourite holiday. i love the atmosphere and back home we really celebrate christmas: a table of no least than 20 people, all the aunts and uncles and cousins, people who i probably see once a year, at that very dinner.

and then we have all these traditions, little things that make me miss home. like, my mum used to wake up me and my sister with christmas music on christmas day, every single year, and she still does it every time we get back home for the holidays.

or like, on christmas eve, me, mum and my sister go to the church i used to go to when i was younger for the vigil, and we have this mass that it’s like two hours long but it’s just so beautiful. i wouldn’t consider myself a religious person, but being in that room just brings me so much comfort that i can’t even put into words.” she looked up at him, eyes a bit teary.

“then we used to come home, around 11am and we would watch “the grinch” while we waited for midnight to open our presents.” she sighed. “it’s such a special holiday for me, and when i think about the fact that there was a time when it didn’t feel like that, when i was away from them... i don’t know, it makes me sad.” she gave him a small smile, looking down at her shoes.

“hey.” he put his hand on her knee. “we don’t have to talk about this, any of this. i’m sorry i pushed you, i didn’t want to make you sad.”

“no, it’s okay.” she swallowed thickly. “i- uh.” he saw she was struggling to find the words.

“i think i’d like to speak about that, if you wanted to hear about it. i don’t want to force you to stay there and just... i don’t know, throw all my trauma at you.” 

“you wouldn’t. i would gladly listen, if you feel comfortable enough, though. niall is going to rip my head off if you aren’t.” the last part he murmured under his breath.

“what was that?” she inquired.

“nothing important, love. whenever you are ready.”

she took another deep breath, sitting crisscrossed on the couch, facing him but with her head looking towards her fingers, which she was basically tearing apart. 

“since i was a child, i used to feel things, emotions, very strongly. i would always say that they would feel amplified, and i absolutely loved that. i loved feeling everything so deeply, because it reminded me that i was alive and i was here and i could do anything i wanted to. but once i moved away, i don’t know what happened, but i just started feeling a little less, and a little less. till i was numb. 

i was desperate, i couldn’t recognise the person looking back at me in the mirror. i didn’t cry, i didn’t laugh, i was just... being, existing. i was younger, i was stupid and i did something even more stupid, just wishing that i would feel something, even if that something was pain.” her voice started wavering, she pulled her lips in her mouth in an attempt to stop her tears from falling.

harry was watching her, but didn’t dare utter a word. she was finally opening up — he doesn’t know if for the first time ever or not, but he didn’t dream of interrupting her, if she wanted to go on.

after a little while, when it seemed like she calmed down a bit, she resumed talking. 

“it went on for a while. it wasn’t just the physical aspect of it that was causing me problems, but also the mental state i was in. i cut everyone out of my life, didn’t go home for two years straight: i skipped christmas, birthday dinners, anniversaries. i felt like the worst person ever walking on earth, but i still couldn’t really feel anything. and that just made me spiral, because i was mourning the person i was before. i missed her. fuck, i missed her so much.” she sniffled. 

“but then, one day i just knew that it all was getting too much, that i couldn’t keep going like this or else the ending i was heading towards was going to be catastrophic. so i reached out and asked for help: i went to therapy, and i still go to this day. not exactly for the same reasons, but mostly to have a place where i can just let go, i guess.” she stopped and looked at harry, who was staring at her, his brows lightly furrowed, meaning he was listening to every word.

“and therapy really helped getting me out of that mental space. it was difficult, uncomfortable, i had my fair share of setbacks, but during one session my therapist told me something that i hold close to my heart to this day, ever since then.” she smiled to herself, eyes focused on the cushion she was sat on.

“she told me: ‘you know, even the sun gets clouded sometimes.’ even the happiest people — or what seem to be the happiest of people — have their dark days. and that’s fine. you just need to get through them.”

harry thought that no metaphor could ever be as perfect to describe her as this one was.

he was still silent, waiting to see if she had anything else to add. but she misinterpreted his silence for something bad. 

“oh god, i’m sorry if this was too much for you, you could’ve told me to stop but since you didn’t i went on and i didn’t even check-”

he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her waist and make her straddle his lap, arms tightening in a hug that could’ve crushed her bones, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to have her close. his face tucked in her neck, inhaling her perfume, and he hoped she could understand from this hug everything he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the right words to say out loud.  

he didn’t need to say anything, all she had to know was expressed by the way he was hugging her. his face rested in her neck, her hand went straight to his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

she doesn’t know for how long they stayed like that, but didn’t even care.

—

christmas was around the corner. on monday, she went to the post office, dropped off every present, went to work and had the full day she knew she was going to have, but she had just two more days of work before christmas eve, then she’d spend that beautiful following day with her friends. it wasn’t going to be like at home, but it was with another family she loved just as much. 

during these two days, she worked hard on harry’s present. she didn’t know if it was going to be as good as she wanted it to be, but she’d try her very best to make sure it was.

on christmas eve, she stayed home putting the finishing touches on the presents that she had to bring the following day at sarah’s, and checked on the food she had to prepare for their dinner. 

around 9pm, she sat down on the couch, looking at her decorated apartment.

the christmas tree she got was almost a carbon copy of the one her mum had at home: three meters tall, way too big for her living room; even the decorations were very similar. 

she was sad about not being able to go home that year, but she had to be back to work on the 27th and it wasn’t smart to make such a long trip for just one day, even if it was a special one. 

but there was something more that was making her sad, or well, worried: she hadn’t skipped christmas since those years. she wasn’t in that mental place anymore, she had been clean for years now, but you can never know what could trigger you and make you fall back in old habits. 

so she tried not to think about that, but of course she just couldn’t stop. she started feeling guilty for behaving the way she did, cutting everyone out of her life, lying to them and pretending she was alright. in her mind, she knows she wasn’t in a good mental state, but that didn’t take away any of the guilt she was feeling. 

her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door. she thought that maybe it was the landlady coming by to wish a happy christmas — she was a lovely older lady who always gave her candy whenever she ran into her. 

but when she opened the door, she found someone a little bit younger than her 70-year-old landlady.

harry stood there with a bottle of red wine and a present in hand. 

“happy christmas eve. let me in?”

“and here i thought you were a caroller. you sure you don’t want to sing anything?”

“shut up and let me in, it’s freezing.” 

this was probably the first time harry came over unannounced. he always texted her first, or waited for her to text him for their movie nights, but since she told him about the traditions she had with her family back home, he knew he had to do something. 

it wasn’t hard to understand that this holiday season was hard for her, not only because she was far from her family, but because of what happened in the past when she was away from them.

harry could imagine the kind of thoughts that had been swimming in her head these last few days, and he couldn’t stand it. no one should have these kind of thoughts ever, especially not during the holidays. 

especially not her.

so, he decided to participate in one of the little traditions she told him about, and thought that maybe they could watch “the grinch” together and open their presents at midnight.

when he told her this, she had the prettiest smile on her face. she never smiled at him like this, and this time he was sure that it was for him. that made him smile just as wide.

they watched “the grinch” together and they both teared up at the part where he was picked on at school. 

harry was shocked when she told him that cindy lou was played by the same actress that played jenny humphrey in gossip girl.

“no fucking way that’s her! she looks so sweet here!” 

“people grow up, harry.” she laughed. “and hold on- you watched gossip girl? how have you never shared this with me?”

“didn’t think it was an interesting fact to share.”

“are you kidding me? it’s a very important piece of information! you can’t trust anyone these days.” she muttered ironically, but that didn’t stop harry from throwing a pillow at her. 

once the grinch was over, it was around 11:30, so they decided to make some hot chocolate and wait for midnight.

“alright, 11:59, one minute to go!”

“you know it’s christmas and not new year’s, do you?”

“yes, you ass, i do know. but i wanted to wish you merry christmas at exactly midnight.”

harry smiled at her, shaking his head lightly.

they looked at each other, until her screen showed 12:00am, making it officially christmas day.

“merry christmas, harry.” she said sweetly.

“merry christmas, love.” he answered back, looking at her fondly. 

“now, for the good part... presents! wait here, i have to get yours in my bedroom.”

“ooh, i like where this is going.” he said smirking, earning an eye roll from her.

“get your mind out of the gutter, styles. you little freak.” 

he shook his head, but he was getting a bit antsy. what if she didn’t like his present? what if he didn’t like her present and his poker face wasn’t good enough and he made her feel bad? he was sure she could’ve gifted him something straight out of the trash and he would’ve loved it, but you never know.

she came back into the living room, and he could see she was feeling the same way as him. she sat back down on the floor with him, near the tree, and had her presents in hand. 

wait, presents, plural. 

he was fucked, wasn’t he?

“they aren’t the greatest presents and i usually am great at gift giving, like insanely good. but i really did try my best and i hope i didn’t disappoint too much. go easy on me, please.” she said the last bit laughing, but he could feel the insecurity in her voice.

he wanted to let her know that she would never disappoint him, but no words were coming out of his mouth.

huh, so your smart mouth can talk shit all day but can’t pay her a compliment?

but it felt like she already knew.

“so, this one first.” it was in a tube, and he didn’t know what to think. so he was quick to open it, and he smiled widely when he saw what it was. 

“it’s a movie poster where you can scratch the movies you have seen. i bought the same one, i want to put it up the wall, so we can see those movies together and scratch them.” she said, looking down at her hands.

“i love this. this is so beautiful, thank you so much.” he said truthfully. it was such a sweet gesture, and of course she would think of such a thing.

“alright, then for the second present. i thought the first one wasn’t going to be enough-” he went to interrupt her but she wouldn’t let him. “no, you shush. i thought it didn’t convey how much i care about you, so i wanted to give you this.” 

she gave him the next gift, that resembled a book a lot. when he opened it, he smiled to himself: “the unbearable lightness of being”.

she told him a thousand times that this was her favourite book and that he just had to read it, because it changed her life. but when he opened the book and flipped through the pages, his breath hitched.

this was her own copy.

“i, uh. i annotated it for you. i know it’s a used copy, — and i’ve read it like 20 times i think, so it’s pretty used — but i felt like it was just right to use my own. it’s kind of like i’m giving a piece of me to you, and i wouldn’t want to give it to anyone else, to be honest.”

he heard what he said, but couldn't tear his eyes from the book in his hands.

inside the first page, there was a small inscription.

“thank you for being here even when it’s cloudy. merry christmas, H.”

he was staring at the words scribbled on the page, wondering how lucky he had to be to be there, with her.

“it’s okay, if you don’t like it, i can just-”

“please, stop with that. i love it, i’m just speechless, i don’t think a thank you is gonna cut it.” 

“a thank you is more than enough, harry. it’s nothing too special.” she shrugged. 

“it is to me. and i’ll hold onto this forever, i promise you.” he said looking deep into her eyes, making her soft.

“i’m glad you like it, then.” she smiled. “and you speechless? that can be my present, holy shit!” she tried to lighten the air a bit, given the seriousness of that moment.

“heyy! rude.” he scowled. “now, for your present.” 

he gave her a box, wrapped with a pretty bow and a note attached to it; she decided to read what he wrote before opening the present. 

she was so giddy, anxious and happy. she couldn’t believe she was actually here with harry, reliving a tradition she only had at home. and she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that this was all harry’s idea, that he wanted to make her feel as if she was home. 

she was just so grateful for that mishap in the woods back in october, because it brought them here, and she wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

she opened the little envelope, and took out the note.

“with the hope you’ll find your eugene fitzherbert soon enough.”

she looked up at him quizzically, but he just tilted his chin forward, silently telling her to open the box and check for herself what his note was referring to.

when she finally opened it, she felt her jaw hitting the floor.

“it’s a first edition. you probably already know this, but rapunzel is a story by the grimm brothers. and i know there’s no eugene fitzherbert in this one, and i know you love him, but i couldn’t not buy this when-”

he couldn’t finish his sentence because she threw herself in his arms, tackling him to the ground with her on top.

“this is the best thing anyone has ever gotten me. you’re just the sweetest harry, i can’t believe you did this for me. i don’t deserve this, oh my god.” she whispered in his neck, her lips grazing the soft skin. he felt the small kiss she left right on his throat, and he hugged her tightly against him, as if he wanted for them to stick together. 

“you deserve this and more, love.”

they stayed on the ground for a little while, and when she was trying to pull away he just hugged her closer.

“just, uh. just one more minute, okay?” he said lowly.

“of course. whenever you want to let go.” 

he thought he never wanted to.

but when she tried to pull away again, he couldn’t stop her.

“now my presents look like shit, in comparison to yours.” she pouted, but it was soon replaced with a smile. “i can’t even think about how much you spent over it, my goodness. you’re nuts.”

harry just chuckled, and she started talking again, looking at him in a new way. 

“uh, can i do something? but you have to tell me if you’re not comfortable and if you want to stop right away, because i don’t want you to feel forced into anything and-”

harry quickly picked up where this was going, so he placed his hand on the back of her neck, sat up, went and shut her up for good. 

her lips felt as soft as they looked, as soft as they did when he’d dream about them. this was what heaven felt like, he was sure of it.

he lightly bit her lower lip, taking it between his front teeth, earning a small whimper from her. he was going to die, he was sure of it. but if this is the last thing he got to do, he’d pass away peacefully.

she had been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that it was happening it felt like she was walking on air. his lips felt like soft pillows against her own, and she could taste the hot chocolate on them and his tongue. she couldn’t get enough.

when he pulled her bottom lip with his front teeth — those bunny teeth she was lucky enough to see whenever he gifted her a toothy grin — she couldn’t help but whimper against him, melting even more when he sucked on it lightly, as if to make it better.

they kept kissing until they were out of breath, but it seemed like neither of them wanted to leave the other’s lips for even just a second, afraid that this perfect moment was going to disappear. 

but harry pulled away first, afraid of actually passing out if he kept going.

and god, he couldn’t believe the sight he had in front of him: her eyes still closed, as if she was wanted to bask in the moment for just a second longer.

exactly like he dreamt about.

when she fluttered her eyes open, he knew he was done for. that was it, the peak of his existence. how had she gotten him so wrapped around her little finger? he was absolutely whipped for her.

she looked into his eyes, those pools of green that had always drawn her in. eight months ago, they looked at her with something very close to disdain, but now? disdain was the furthest thing she could find in them.

and fuck, was she glad about it.

after they stared at each other for a while, she spoke up again. “i still feel like i need to pay you back somehow, that present was too much.”

“mmh, i think i have an idea.” he smirked, leaning in.

“oh really?” she said teasingly, leaning in as well.

“mmh mmh.”

and they kissed again. and again. and again. and a little more after that.

—

on christmas morning, she woke up snuggled in her comforter, with two arms wrapped around her midsection, keeping her close. she sighed with content.

could things get any better?

“‘morning, love.”

apparently they could. he felt his lips kiss her head, but she wanted more. she turned around to face him, and didn’t wait a second to smash her lips against his, hearing him hum against her lips.

“good morning, bub.” she smiled against his lips, leaving another quick kiss. “sorry, i didn’t even brush my teeth.” 

he shook his head, grinning at her. “don’t care, not even in the slightest. i’ve waited for way too long to do this, so please do whenever you want to.” to mark his words, he kissed her again.

“you did?” she looked up at him and he nodded. 

“waited a long while for you, darling. i don't mind having waited now, though.” 

“ah, you’re such a sap. no surprise you love romcoms.” she smacked his chest lightly, leaving her hand right above his heart.

“hey! don’t be rude now.” he scolded her with a smile on his lips.

“alright alright, you walmart version of ryan gosling.”

“oh, you’re going to regret this.”

—

harry had to go back to his place to get ready and pick up the gifts to bring to sarah’s. 

“can’t you come with me?” he pouted.

“i’m sorry, i have to shower, get dressed and stuff. i’ll see you in a little while, i promise.”

“you could just wear my stuff.”

that made her feel all gooey on the inside, but also made her chuckle. “don’t worry, i’ll steal all your hoodies in no time. i've already started, if you remember.” she smiled, leaving a small peck on his nose.

“good. they look better on you anyway.” he pecked her lips three times before kissing her for a little longer. 

“okay, now you have go or else we’re going to be late.” she said between kisses.

“mmh mmh, you’re right, should definitely go.” he said, but just went ahead and kissed her, before she pushed her hand against his chest.

“stop it, we really are going to be late. i’ll see you soon, i promise.” she smiled softly at him, lightly shoving him outside her door.

who thought harry could be such a softie? again, herself from 8 months ago would be laughing like a crazy person if she knew that harry was at her doorstep, pouting because he had to go home and couldn’t keep kissing her. 

a couple of hours later, she was dressed up and ready to go. she heard her phone ring, meaning she received a message. glancing at her phone, she couldn’t help the smile on her face.

“i’m on my way. you ready?”

“yes, i am, E.”

“don’t know if you thought this was another person you spent all day kissing, but my name starts with an H, love.” 

she didn’t bother telling him why she called him E, maybe he’d get it someday. 

—

here it is! it’s time to say goodbye to these two softies. this fic is probably the best thing i’ve ever written, and i’m incredibly proud of it. i hope you enjoyed it as well! thank you so much for your support, it’s been crazy. thank you!

tag list (for those tagged, do you want to be on the permanent tag list? let me know!):

@his-only-angel-1989 @sunshinemoonsposts @cherrysulewski @idgasb @feestyles @msolbesg @call1800coochie @a-strange-familiar @the-art-of-living-honestly @onlyangel-k @sushiirestaurant @annesauriol @longingtobewithu @jjharry @hes-club @fairyinpurple @harrysbigspoon

#my writing #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles os #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut

[fryingpan1234567]

🎶drabble drabble drab-ble, drabble drabble drab-ble, it’s two in the mor-ning—🎶

they’ve consumed my brain. Timkon Thought™️

~ It’s no secret Tim Drake doesn’t like sleeping. Enough nights of insomnia, dream demons, and fear gas will do that to a person. But there are just some people who take it to a whole different level.

Tim goes to school during the day, works when he doesn’t have school, and patrols all night long— he’s known in the Batfam for staying out the latest of them all, often until the sun begins to rise and he has to go home to get ready for school. The only time he doesn’t do such a practice is when Conner visits, which fortunately is often, because Tim’s siblings get concerned when he hasn’t slept in over a week.

But still, even with Conner around, it’s a fight to get Tim to sleep at all. One almost nobody wins.

It’s late when Tim hears the living room window slide open, soft footfalls landing on the rug there. He’d be concerned, normally, if only for the fact that he’s already in his pajamas and would hate to have to fight without a mask, but he knows who it is. Maybe that person knows the sound of his heartbeat, but Tim knows the rhythm of his existence and no Kryptonian powers can match that.

Exactly as expected, Conner pokes the slightly cracked bedroom door open with the toe of his boot not long after. Tim was already in bed, but nowhere near sleeping. In fact, he had a near-full mug of the strongest coffee he could possibly brew sitting on the nightstand next to him, the laptop in his lap the only source of light in the room.

Having none of his boyfriend’s shit, Conner flicked the light on. Tim blinked hazily up at him.

“Hey,” he managed, slightly leaning forward and silently pleading for a kiss. Kon obliged, but flicked him in the forehead as he pulled away.

“Why’re you up?” he asked instead of answering the greeting. “It’s like two in the morning.”

“Uhh…” As Conner began stripping out of his patrol gear and unceremoniously dumping it all on the floor, Tim’s attention returned to the screen before him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Conner threw a shoe at him. It bounced off Tim’s shoulder. He didn’t even look up.

Kon sighed in defeat. “Didn’t you just get back from patrol, though?”

“Mm. Just a minute ago. Nothing exciting.”

They both lapsed into silence, the only sound in the apartment being Krypto’s snoring in the corner of the bedroom and the clicking of Tim’s laptop keyboard. Finally, freshly ready for bed, Conner flipped the light back off, plopped down next to Tim, and promptly flopped over in front of him.

Tim peeked over the top of his screen.

“Uh… hi?”

“Sweetheart.” Conner’s voice is muffled from the blankets. “Put the computer away.”

Tim snorted, keeping his gaze on the work before him as he took a loud sip of his coffee. It was already cooling down, and cold coffee is nasty, so he drank more of it to avoid dealing with it.

“Sorry, love,” Tim said softly as he set the mug back down, poking at Kon with a socked foot. “I have too much to do. You should go to bed, though.”

Like a curious puppy, Conner suddenly popped up and peeked over the top of the screen for an upside-down view of what Tim was doing.

“Well, what do you have to do?” he asked rather pitifully. Tim smiled at him.

“I’ve got, uhh, two papers and a presentation for school, a stack of pitches to sign off plus schedule a board meeting later this week for Wayne Enterprises, and then… sixty-seven cases Oracle sent me to deal with, looks like.” Tim squinted at the painfully bright screen. “And… I’m pretty sure that says three hundred missed text messages, but I could be wrong.”

“Jesus Christ.” Conner flopped back down again. “Can you put it off for tomorrow? I want cuddles, Timmy. Cuddle your poor boyfriend for once.”

“Hey, I- I cuddle you lots,” Tim protested, typing away with ease. “Like, too much. Jason told me he’d shoot me if he caught us making out in the library again.”

Kon barked out a laugh, startling the dog awake. “That was a bit more than cuddling, though.”

Tim kicked him off the bed.

Just as Tim started to worry, Conner crawled back up into the bed, this time moving to his side. It took the time of him worming under the covers and getting sufficiently comfortable before he spoke again, looking up at Tim’s coolly illuminated face. He was pretty, like always, even when sleep deprived and bathed in blue light.

Kon’s sigh dragged Tim out of his trance, finally looking down to face him. An involuntarily affectionate smile pulled at his lips at the sight of his boyfriend all sleep-warm and snuggly.

“Please just try to sleep,” Conner said softly, absently tracing patterns on Tim’s lower back. “If you really can’t, I’ll leave you alone.”

Tim hesitated. There was a lot of work to be done, there was no arguing that. But… wasn’t there kind of always a lot of work to be done? Maybe some sleep would improve his problem-solving skills, even if only slightly.

Picking up on the resolve, Conner gently closed the laptop for him and pulled him down, pushing it down to the foot of the bed. Almost immediately, Tim yawned hugely, nuzzling into Conner’s shoulder and inhaling deeply. Without the computer screen, the room was comfortably dark.

“Better?” he whispered, brushing Tim’s dark hair out of both their faces.

Tim sleepily smiled up at him. “Yeah.” After a moment, he added, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It didn’t even take twenty minutes before Tim tried to worm his way back out of Conner’s arms to resume his work, but fortunately, Kon was absolutely expecting that. His grip tightened enough for Tim to let out a surprised squeak and freeze, absolutely not expecting his boyfriend to not be awake.

Conner cracked an eye open. Tim blinked up at him guiltily.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

“Kon—“

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear it. Sleepytime.”

“Conner—“

“Sleepytime, Timmy.”

Sufficiently and effectively stuck, Tim huffed in exasperation, admitting to himself that he may have to give up. Luckily not in the worst of places to be.

It didn’t take long before Tim actually did drift off, the quiet thrum of Kon’s heartbeat acting as a lullaby. He didn’t even have nightmares.

Until he woke up, that is. The worst of the worst.

The perfect amount of sunlight filtered through the curtains, warmly filling the bedroom like a wake-up call in a fairytale. Conner was awake before Tim, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. Tim was still asleep on his bicep, like how they’d fallen asleep.

Kon noticed him when he shifted to stretch.

“Morning, sunshine,” he teased, watching as Tim did a full cat stretch, pillow kneading and everything. It was his favorite part of his boyfriend’s morning routine.

“Morning…” Tim trailed off with a yawn. “Hey, what time is it?”

Conner half shrugged. “Eh.”

Tim looked around for his phone before remembering he’d left it in the kitchen the night before.

“No, serious, Kon.”

“It’s, uh…” Conner squinted at his phone. “It is. Eleven-thirty. Almost.”

“WHAT—“

Before Tim could react much more than that, Kon promptly rolled on top of him to pin him to the mattress. Krypto poked his head up from his bed at the commotion.

“Absolutely not, pretty boy, you’re not going anywhere,” Conner declared gleefully. “That was much-needed rest and I think you should have some more of it.”

“nO—“ Tim shoved ineffectively at his boyfriend’s sides, trying and failing to haul him off. “I have— school—“

“We’re skipping.”

“But work—“

“Call out. I’m serious. You’re staying here with me and you’re gonna like it, He Who Never Takes Care Of Himself.” To aid his cause, Kon smushed a kiss into Tim’s forehead until he stopped struggling with a grumble about something that sounded suspiciously like Kryptonite. “Okay?” he added hopefully.

Tim seethed for a moment, but sensing there was really only one answer, his anger deflated almost immediately.

“Fine,” he relented. “This will not become a regular occurrence. I have things to do, asshole.”

“We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Tim skipped the next day, too.

~ not great, not proofread, whatever honestly

have a good day/ night/ 4am🥰

#dc #timkon #tim drake #conner kent #superboy #red robin

[ghosttotheparty]

everything you need, anything you want

also on AO3 based on this post

So eighty-six wasn’t his year.

It’s not like Eddie’s never been wrong before.

He lives in the Harrington home. After the “earthquakes,” Steve’s parents move to Norfolk. They leave Steve in Hawkins. Not that he would have gone with them anyway, but an offer would have been nice.

They leave him the house. And enough money to get by. His mother leaves him a kiss on the cheek. He wipes it off when she’s gone.

Eddie stays in the guest room.

Steve’s parents’ old room remains empty, save for a bare mattress, a bed frame, two dressers and his mother’s vanity. Steve contemplates taking it all out back and having a bonfire.

When they found Eddie in the Upside Down, cowering in the shadows, no one thought he was real. Eddie didn’t think they were real either, after all the tricks the Upside Down has played on him. Robin said his name.

He hadn’t used his voice except to scream in the past year, so it was rough and scratchy and dry when he spoke.

You’re real?

They were.

Solid and breathing when they embraced him, and then he was crying, and for some reason it was Steve on the ground with him, his arms around Eddie tightly.

He’d been whispering to Eddie.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eddie, I’m here now, I got you.

As if he’d known at all how much of Eddie’s mind he’d occupied the whole time he struggled to survive. As if he’d known that he was what kept Eddie warm at night. (Or, what Eddie assumes was night. Time seems to move differently in the Upside Down. Simultaneously slower and faster, five years passing in an hour, twenty minutes in three weeks.)

The reunion had to be put on pause. They’ve all gotten too good at stopping their emotions, at shifting gears at the blink of an eye.

It resumed in Steve’s house, late at night, after they’d all nursed their wounds and drank some water and showered off the Upside Down.

Eddie sat on the coffee table. He was wearing Steve’s clothes now, his own too ripped and worn and disgusting. (He threw them into a bag after dressing and told Steve to burn it all. Steve swore he would.) Steve’s sweatpants were warm, soft, and his hoodie was too big, the sleeves hanging down over Eddie’s hands. His hair was wet and cold against his skin, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease in his own body.

Except that everyone was staring at him like he was about to explode at any given second. Except Steve. Who looked like he was about to burst into tears.

Dustin spoke first.

You died. I— I watched you die, I heard you stop breathing.

Eddie gripped the ends of the hoodie sleeves tightly.

I know.

Did you not? Robin had asked weakly, like she was going to be sick. Did we just…

No, I did.

He did.

He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows.

I died, but then I just…

All their eyes were wide. Confused. Sitting in an awful fucking silence that made Eddie want to rip his skin off.

I’m not the same. As I was. There’s something… Off about me.

What is it? Nancy asked. Her voice was quiet, almost just a breath but still audible in the silence.

He had squeezed his eyes shut, his legs drawn to his chest. How the fuck was he supposed to explain it? That he wasn’t quite human anymore? That he could smell all their blood, and then he wanted to consume it? That he was fucking starving?

He just shook his head, shivering, letting his head fall to his knees, and then Steve was touching him, sliding his hand over Eddie’s back in front of everything. Eddie could feel the heat of his skin through the hoodie. He spoke to the floor without lifting his head.

I’m a fucking vampire or something.

And the room was silent, until Nancy spoke again.

Explain?

So he explained.

It’s all fucking insane, but Eddie guesses in the grand scheme of things nothing is fucking insane anymore.

Steve stayed close to him the whole time, his hand on Eddie’s back, and after a while, Eddie reached for his other hand, taking it as he spoke. No one said anything about the way he held it for the rest of the time they were in the living room, playing with Steve’s fingers as he talked about the place he already knew he’d have nightmares about.

He stayed in Steve’s room that night. Neither of them said anything as they found their way toward each other, as Eddie held onto Steve’s arm, as Steve slowly pulled away so he could wrap his arm around Eddie, pull him against his chest.

I’m sorry, Eddie. I—I wanted to bring you back, but— but the gate was—

I know, Steve. ‘S okay.

It was probably better that he didn’t wake up in some morgue in town or something. Better that no one else (especially Steve) had to witness him discover that he’s not human, had to witness him learn how to kill creatures just to drink the blood from their still-warm bodies.

He woke up the next morning with his head on Steve’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat. Steve was playing with his hair, combing through his hair and untangling his curls gently. Eddie could hear some noise downstairs, clattering in the kitchen, steps in the hallway. And it was warm.

It was so, so warm.

There were tears on his skin before he even processed his eyes burning. He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face into Steve’s chest, and tried not to cry, but Steve could feel him shaking, could hear his soft breaths, and Steve slowly sat up, holding Eddie to himself.

It’s okay.

Eddie clutched at him. Gripped his shirt in tight fists, hid his face in his neck.

He sobbed.

Steve was crying too, his arms tight and firm around Eddie, listening and understand him even though his voice was cracking and weak.

It was so cold, Stevie, it was so— it was so cold.

You don’t have to be cold anymore, Eddie.

The sun was shining brightly in Steve’s room. Eddie could feel it on his skin. He’d missed the sun.

They spent almost the whole morning in bed, even though they can hear the others downstairs. Steve kept his arms around Eddie the whole time, until they both stopped crying, until Eddie just sat next to him, leaning against him. Eddie looks at home. Gazed at him. The sunlight hit his eyes in a way that made them glow, and his hair in a way that made strands of it look like golden thread. His eyelashes were clumped together with tears, and Eddie remembered why he always thought Steve had princess eyes.

Steve’s hair was longer than it was when Eddie died. Overgrown carelessly and pushed back, and Eddie’s eyes got caught before he reached up and pushed it up from where it had fallen over his ears. The side of his head was shaved.

Eddie’s eyes widened, and Steve was laughing even before Eddie was sitting up and manhandling Steve’s head to check the other side.

You cut your hair?

Yeah, I… I wanted something different.

…It suits you.

You think?

Eddie nodded. Ran a hand under the overgrown hair and over the shaved part, watched as Steve tilted his head up into the touch. They were quiet for a moment before Steve spoke again.

When my parents left, I… I kinda started acting out. They always cared about keeping appearances, so I… I don’t know. Kinda weird to have a rebellious phase at twenty one.

Is that why your walls look like Polluck paintings and the rest of house looks like a museum?

Robin helped.

I assumed.

Eddie had continued petting his hair. Steve had seemed to like it.

What else?

I, uhm. …You’re gonna laugh.

I won’t laugh.

Even if you say you won’t, you’re gonna.

Okay, I might, doesn’t matter. Tell me.

I… I started listening to, like. Metal and stuff.

Eddie laughed. Steve hit his chest.

How’d that happen?

…I missed you.

That had hurt.

Eddie exhaled and his hand fell from where it was pressed into Steve’s hair, falling to rest on his neck. He could feel Steve’s pulse. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. He ignored the desire.

I, uhm… I remembered you mentioned Ozzy, so I went to a music store and asked about it, and…

You like it?

It keeps my head quiet.

Steve had directed him to the other side of his room, where his tapes and records were. Eddie looked through them while Steve watched. Ozzy, Metallica, Dio, Motörhead, Twisted Sister. Eddie’s face had hurt. He hadn’t smiled in a long time.

I kept your vest.

You did?

Yeah. Wore it sometimes when I missed you more than usual.

Eddie wanted to cry again.

Got some t-shirts and shit you might like.

Can I look?

‘Course.

Eddie looked. Carefully rifled through Steve’s shirt drawer. Looked at the worn, probably second-hand t-shirts. Grinned at the Judas Priest shirt and the AC/DC shirt.

You’re a regular punk, aren’t you, Stevie?

Maybe a little. …Maybe more than a little.

What’s that mean?

Steve paused, his cheeks flushing prettily as he shrugged. Eddie just raised his eyebrows, and Steve stared, his jaw working for a moment before he opened his mouth to reveal a metal stud at the centre of his tongue.

Eddie let out a loud What? and rushed across the room to see, dropping the AC/DC shirt, and Steve laughed. Eddie landed on the bed next to him, on his knees, and grabbed Steve’s chin.

Open up. Let me see.

He repressed the urge to tell him what a good boy he was when Steve immediately followed directions. The stud was black, shining. Eddie wanted to touch it. He wanted to spit on it.

Did it hurt?

They shoved a needle through my tongue, Eddie. Yeah, it hurt.

Alright, attitude. Very metal, Stevie.

Thanks.

So that was that.

Neither of them are the same anymore. Eddie’s teeth are a little sharper, his skin a little colder. Steve is a little more rough around the edges.

They figure everything out. It takes some time, but everything gets sorted. The fridge in the garage is stocked with blood at all times for nights that Eddie can’t go out and catch squirrels or deer. They sleep in separate rooms, but immediately find each other in the morning. Eddie leans on Steve’s back while Steve makes coffee in the kitchen. They sit with their legs locked between them under the table. Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s leg while they watch TV or movies together.

Eddie always ends up pulling Steve against himself. Steve always ends up falling asleep.

Steve doesn’t sleep often.

Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep much at night. He doesn’t either, plagued by nights and memories, staring at the ceiling in the dim light of a lamp that sits on the floor.

Steve leaves his bathroom light on night. When Eddie leaves his room to get water he can see the glow of it under Steve’s door, and he wonders what he thinks about late at night. If he stares at the the ceiling like Eddie does. If he sleeps with his blankets wrapped around him tightly. If he gets cold too.

•••••••••••••••Eddie rolls onto his side and pulls his blanket around him tighter. All of his bedding smells like the rest of the house, almost like Steve but not quite. (Steve smells better.)

Eddie hates nighttime. He likes that it’s quiet, that it’s calm, that nothing is really expected of him, but it’s too dark. Darkness is suffocating. Even with a lamp on.

He looks across the room when there’s a shuffle in the hall, looking over his shoulder. He holds his breath.

After a few moments there’s a soft knock on his door.

“Steve?” Eddie says quietly, and the door opens slowly. Steve is still holding the doorknob, his eyes shining, and he looks so tiny it makes Eddie ache. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Steve pauses, blinking at him and taking a breath. He’s wearing a Judas Priest shirt and some shorts, his hair tousled, looking sleepy and pretty. He also looks like he’s going to cry, which Eddie hates, but can’t deny that it also looks pretty. “Are you okay?”

Eddie blinks at him.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. “Are you? What’s happening?”

Steve continues to stare at him, his eyes tracing him almost desperately.

“I just— I had…”

He’s breathing hard, like he’s been running.

“You had a nightmare?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods. Eddie pauses, looking at the anxious shine of his eyes, at the way his hands are trembling. “You wanna come over here?”

Steve just steps inside and shuts the door wordlessly, using both hands to make it quiet, like they’re keeping it a secret from the rest of the house. (Which feels like it’s watching them sometimes, if Eddie is honest.)

He sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed, facing the wall, his eyes blankly tracing the posters pinned to the wall. Eddie moves closer to him, watching his chest rise and fall quickly.

“Steve,” he says, sitting cross-legged, facing him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You were gone,” Steve says quietly, his voice breathy and rough. “We— We were in the Upside Down, and we found—“ he cuts off, taking a small gasp, and Eddie leans closer, placing his hand on Steve’s back gently. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, his breath stuttering in his chest. “We found your body.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, running his hand over his back, catching the folds of the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’m right here.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, and Eddie’s chest clenches. He moves closer, carefully pushing his hand up Steve’s neck into his hair to run over the shaved part, furrowing his brows with Steve takes a gasping, stuttering breath.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “Stevie.” Steve opens his eyes, his expression so pained it makes Eddie’s bones ache. “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

“You died, Eddie,” Steve says weakly. “You were dead, you…”

“I’m alive, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, running his fingers through his hair. Steve just whines, his eyes closing as tears fall. “Hey, I got a heartbeat,” Eddie says quietly. Steve’s eyes open. “You wanna feel it?”

Steve takes a breath, turning to look at him, and he nods.

“Come here, gimme your hand.” He takes Steve’s trembling hand, pulls it toward himself so Steve shifts to face him, and presses it to his own chest, his fingers holding Steve’s hand tightly. He takes a deep breath, and Steve’s eyes watch his chest rise and fall.

“You feel it?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, when Steve’s breath has slowed, and Steve’s hand presses harder, his lips pursing as he frowns, almost pouting, and Eddie tilts his head fondly, almost smiling. Steve’s hand slides up after a moment, over the collar of Eddie’s sweater, until it’s sliding over Eddie’s neck.

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat when Steve’s fingers wrap around it, his fingertips pressing into his skin tightly. Steve is still panting, his eyelids fluttering. It takes a moment for Eddie to realise Steve’s fingers are pressing into his pulse.

Steve nods, closing his eyes, breathless.

“I feel it.”

Eddie nods. He can’t breathe. Steve’s hand is hot against Eddie’s skin, holding him tightly.

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, sliding his hand to rest on the side of Steve’s neck. Steve exhales shakily, his fingers tightening, and Eddie thinks he might pass out. His lips part, and his eyes flutter closed before he reaches for Steve’s wrist.

“Steve, you gotta stop.”

Steve’s eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, hurt snd worry shining in his eyes.

“‘S just—“ Eddie tries to fix, squeezing his wrist. “It— This… feels good.”

Steve’s eyes are glazed over, and his fingers shift. He doesn’t let go. His voice is slurred when he speaks.

“If it feels good, why would I stop?”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

“Just…” He squeezes Steve’s wrist again, tugs it away. “You had a nightmare, Stevie, you need…”

“Need this,” Steve mumbles, twisting his hand to hold Eddie’s. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s, like he’s trying to see into him.

“I just—“ Steve cuts off, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shine with unshed tears again. “I just wanna feel your heartbeat, Eddie, please.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. Steve exhales as if in relief, his hand finding Eddie’s neck again, and Eddie wants to cry. “C’mere.”

Steve crawls closer, moving so he can lay against Eddie heavily, taking a shuddering breath.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs softly, wrapping an arm around him and laying down, pulling Steve with him so he lands on top of Eddie, his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Steve giggles softly, his hand tightening on Eddie’s neck, and Eddie exhales sharply, closing his eyes.

“Are you still gonna be here in the morning?” Steve’s voice says quietly.

Eddie pulls him in tighter. He could be sarcastic. That they’re in his room, that he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. But Steve’s voice is so soft, so small and vulnerable, that he can’t.

“Of course.”

•••••••••••••••The others notice it too, that Steve isn’t entirely okay.

Steve insists he’s fine, that everything is under control.

Eddie does what he can to help, cooks and cleans and does everything he can to make sure Steve can relax at home, but it doesn’t really seem to help at all. Steve is always tense, fidgeting anxiously, picking at his skin and lips and nails until he’s bleeding. Eddie reaches over to take his hand, holding it gently to stop him.

Even Robin does it, laying across his lap and holding his hands in her own while they talk.

Eddie’s heart hurts. The skin around some of Steve’s nails is red and raw, his lips cracked.

“I’m just saying, Steve, maybe you should take a break,” Nancy says, watching him cross the room. He’s chewing on a nail, looking at her.

“From what?”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly. Steve shrugs at him, and Jonathan lowers his head to his knees. “Come on—“ He cuts off with a soft breath, stopping himself from saying sweetheart in front of everyone. Argyle looks at him. He can probably tell.

“You just gotta relax, man,” Argyle says, looking away from Eddie. “Smoke some weed or something.”

“I can’t walk around high twenty four-seven,” Steve says, frustrated. “I have— responsibilities, I gotta— I gotta take care of the kids, I’m…”

“Stevie,” Robin says, sitting up from where she’s laying on Eddie’s lap. “We don’t mean to move to Florida or something permanently, just… relax.”

“I’ve tried,” Steve says adamantly. He’s pacing. “I’ve— I’ve smoked, I’ve tried fucking reading books, and listening to music, and I’m—“ Steve cuts off, tossing his hands.

“I can try something,” Eddie says before he can even think, and everyone looks at him. His face burns.

“What?” Steve asks quietly, biting his nail again.

“I…” He looks up at Steve from the sofa, ignoring the others’ stares, and he takes a deep breath. “It’s gonna sound fucked, but there’s… this thing I do when I hunt, that’s…” Steve is staring at him intensely, his eyes shining. “It’s like putting them in a trance, it… calms them down.”

“Like hypnotising them?” Nancy says, and Eddie looks at her. Steve keeps staring at Eddie.

“I guess, but it’s—“ He rubs his cheek anxiously. “It doesn’t have to be weird. It just calms them down so they don’t run away, and it kinda makes me feel better because they’re not scared when they die, but, I mean… Obviously I’m not gonna kill you,” he adds, looking at Steve again, who stares. “But it might… help.”

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Steve says almost breathlessly. Eddie’s eyes look back and forth between Steve’s. “Please.”

“…Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Uhm.”

He stands slowly, standing in front of Steve, his cheeks hot as everyone stares. Steve’s hand lowers from his mouth, and he looks at Eddie anxiously. He looks the same way he looked when he spent the night with Eddie: small and vulnerable and scared, and Eddie’s chest hurts.

“If you… change your mind,” Eddie says softly. “Tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve breathes.

“Okay.”

Eddie takes a deep breath.

“…Relax, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and his shoulders slump, and then he’s falling.

“Woah.” Eddie catches him as the others shout, and he falls to his knees, holding Steve, looking at his face desperately. “Steve?”

“Oh my god,” Nancy says, standing as Argyle sits up.

Steve exhales heavily, his head rolling as Eddie tugs him carefully into his lap. Robin kneels next to Steve, touching his face worriedly, saying his name.

“Stevie?” Eddie says softly as Nancy and Jonathan look over his shoulder.

“‘M fine,” Steve mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Steve,” Eddie says, finding his hand and holding it. “Can you open your eyes?”

Steve lets out a soft noise that makes Eddie’s breath catch in his throat.

“Steve, open your eyes.”

Steve’s eyes open, and it takes a moment for them to find Eddie above him. They’re glassy and glazed over.

“You okay?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Feel good.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here anymore,” Robin says quietly, looking up at Nancy, who frowns with a soft, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Argyle agrees. “He’s, like, super vulnerable right now.”

“Yeah, we should go,” Jonathan says when Steve blinks blearily up at Eddie, his fingers shifting on Eddie’s.

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, gazing down at him. Robin gets up and leans down to rustle Eddie’s hair affectionately.

“Take care of him, Eds.”

“‘Course.”

They all leave quietly, Jonathan and Argyle patting Eddie’s back gently as they pass.

“You feel okay, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs when they’re gone. Steve hums a soft mhmm. “Use your words, honey.”

Steve swallows, taking a breath, looking at Eddie with glassy eyes.

“I feel okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I feel so okay.”

Eddie smiles softly, letting go of Steve’s hand and reaching to gently push his hair back.

Steve’s eyes close again, and he’s smiling, his face more relaxed than Eddie’s ever seen him. He traces his fingertips over Steve’s face, over his eyebrows and cheekbones and jawline and the bridge of his nose and his lips. Steve’s lips part as Eddie’s fingertip is trailing over them, and Eddie scoffs, moving to hold his chin.

“You wanna stay here for a while?”

“Please.”

“Can I lay down with you?”

“Mm.”

Eddie moves, letting Steve lift his head off his lap so he can shift to lay on the floor next to him, his arm bent under his head.

“Hi.”

Steve just exhales, blinking at him, smiling softly.

“‘S it okay if I touch you?” Steve lets out a short hum. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Touch me,” Steve breathes. “Please.”

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, moving closer. He reaches out and touches Steve’s face again, watching his eyes flutter shut as he trails his fingertips over his cheek. “Pretty boy.”

He waits for a moment, pushing Steve’s hair back, petting the shaved part gently.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just exhaling and tilting his head so it presses into Eddie’s hand.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, hesitating. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“So good,” Steve says softly. “‘S so quiet.”

“What is?”

“…My head.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” It almost sounds like a moan. “Wanna stay here.”

“Where?” Eddie whispers.

“The clouds.”

Eddie can’t fight his smile, and he carefully drags his nails over Steve’s skin, watching Steve shiver.

“You can stay here for a while.”

Steve closes his eyes.

Eddie can tell that he’s not asleep. He knows what Steve’s breathing sounds like when he’s sleeping, which maybe could be weird, but he doesn’t worry about it.

He keeps trailing his fingers over his hair lightly, gazing at him, tracing his moles with his eyes like he’s stargazing.

He lets him float. Waits for him.

Until Steve sighs, and slowly opens his eyes, blinking at Eddie like he’s waking up.

“Welcome back,” Eddie says quietly.

“Sorry,” Steve says.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie whispers. “Was it nice?”

“Yes,” Steve says without hesitation. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Steve looks like he might cry.

“We can do it again sometime.”

“Can we?”

“Yeah, Stevie.”

“Okay.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Where are the others?”

“They left a little while ago,” Eddie says quietly. “Wanted to give you some privacy.”

“Oh.”

Steve closes his eyes again. Presses his hand up against Eddie’s, holding it to himself.

“Are you comfortable here?” Eddie asks softly. “The floor isn’t too bad?”

“No, ‘s fine.”

“You wanna…” Eddie pauses. “You wanna come closer?”

Steve smiles, and he moves closer, sighing as Eddie lifts his arm to set around him. He tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie almost shivers when he feels Steve’s breath on his skin.

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Like it when you call me that.”

“‘S good, I like calling you that.”

Steve nuzzles into his neck, his hands tucking against Eddie’s chest.

•••••••••••••••They talk about it the next day. Eddie asks if it was okay. If he took anything too far, if Steve was uncomfortable with anything. Steve just smiles. And hugs him.

Tell him that it was perfect, Eds.

They don’t talk about it again.

They don’t really need to.

The others seem to just pick up on it, how something has shifted between them, without anyone saying anything about it. Steve sits closer to Eddie than he used to, leans against him and holds his hand wordlessly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The others all see it. Eddie’s face flushes with heat every time.

He’s started kissing him. His cheeks, his forehead, the top of his head, every time Steve floats away, every time he rests against Eddie and hides his face in Eddie’s neck. It makes Steve smile. The first time Eddie does it, he tucks Steve’s hair back and presses his lips to his cheek, just under his eye, and Steve’s face turns pink even though his eyes are glazed over and he’s swaying.

So Eddie does it every chance he gets. Of course.

He’s not sure what they are.

Eddie’s never even come out to him, and Steve’s never mentioned liking men, but somehow Eddie doesn’t worry about it.

They sleep together more often than not, usually in Steve’s room. Eddie steals Steve’s clothes to wear during the day while he’s gone, and Steve sleeps in Eddie’s t-shirts and sweaters. He leans against Eddie’s back while Eddie plays guitar, humming along, listening.

It seems to get easier for Steve.

It makes Eddie happy, getting to see him relax, getting to see him smile and sigh and laugh at Eddie’s stupid jokes and puns. He still has days, days where he just comes home and curls up on the sofa, hiding his face and staying silent when Eddie tries to talk to him. And he has other days where he comes home and just won’t stop, cleaning and cooking and rambling until Eddie stops him.

Sometimes while he’s floating he holds Eddie’s neck, feeling his heartbeat. It’s nice.

•••••••••••••••“Hey, sweetheart.”

Steve just responds w a soft groan, falling against Eddie’s back. Eddie laughs lightly, looking over his shoulder, pausing with the dishes.

“Long day?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

Steve is quiet for a moment before he sighs, and his arms wrap around Eddie’s torso. It makes Eddie’s cheeks heat up.

“Scars have been hurting all day.” He presses his face to Eddie’s shoulder, squeezes, squishing his cheek and muffling his voice. “‘Nd my head hurt for a while at work, ‘n just… nothing was working for me. ‘M tired.”

Eddie finishes with the dishes, leaving a pot full of water so he doesn’t jostle Steve while he cleans it, and he shuts the water off, reaching for the dish towel and drying his hands before he turns around.

Steve hugs him before he can say anything, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulling him close, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, hugging him back tightly. Steve slumps against him. Eddie kisses his temple.

“Alright?”

“Can you put me under?” Steve asks softly, lifting his head.

Eddie kisses his cheek.

“‘Course. Want you to eat some dinner first, though.”

“Okay.”

They eat together at the table, D&D materials pushed out of the way for their plates. Steve tells him more about his day. Eddie admires him across the table. He sits with his legs crossed on his chair, leaning over them so he doesn’t spill anything. (Steve once said he was never allowed to sit like this as a kid.)

Steve changes while Eddie finishes cleaning up. He wants to help, but Eddie refuses to let him.

“How do you wanna do it?” Eddie asks when he’s finished, when Steve is back, wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a Sabbath shirt that Eddie thinks might be his.

“Wanna sit on your lap,” Steve says, his voice already a little slurred. Eddie grins.

“Sofa?”

“Mm.”

Eddie leads him to the living room, their fingers hooked together. Steve gently pushes Eddie to the sofa, and Eddie looks up at him, smiling, but Steve doesn’t sit across his lap the way Eddie expects. Instead, he lowers himself to Eddie’s lap with his knees on either side of his hips. Eddie’s cheeks flush with heat.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly as Steve settles, setting his hands on Steve’s hips gently.

“Hi.”

“This okay?”

Steve’s hands find their places on Eddie’s shoulders, holding him.

“…Take a deep breath for me..” Steve’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as he inhales, his hands loosening on Eddie’s shoulders. “Good boy, one more.”

Steve smiles as he does it again, his cheeks pink.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs, his thumbs brushing back and forth over his hips. “Do your scars still hurt?”

There’s a moment before Steve shakes his head.

“Your head?”

Another shake.

“Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, his eyes half shut. “I feel good.”

Eddie smiles, tilting his head so he can press a kiss to Steve’s wrist.

“Can I do something?” Steve asks quietly, his eyes glazed.

“Anything.”

Steve smiles softly, his hand sliding from Eddie’s shoulder to his neck, where his fingers wrap gently around his throat. Eddie inhales, his head falling back. Steve’s smile grows, and his fingers tighten.

Eddie’s hands grip Steve’s hips, his eyes locked with Steve’s, and Steve releases him, watching him intently.

“Does that feel good?” he asks quietly, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “It feels good.”

Steve smiles brightly, his fingers tightening again. Eddie exhales sharply, smiling.

“Thought I was supposed to be putting you under,” he mutters. Steve giggles, shifting closer, his fingers loosening, and Eddie bites his lip as heat flushes his cheeks. “What are you smiling at?”

“I can feel your heartbeat.”

“Ah.” He swallows, feeling Steve’s fingers press and rub at his neck. “So you know I’m dying.”

Steve just grins lazily at him, tilting his head almost curiously, his fingers lifting to trace Eddie’s jaw lightly. Eddie slides his hands up his waist, catching the thin fabric of Steve’s (Eddie’s? Their wardrobes are starting to combine.) shirt, and Steve hums.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods, his eyes closing.

“Your hands feel…”

Eddie hums questioningly, squeezing gently as Steve puts his hand back on his throat, his other hand holding the side of his neck lightly, his fingertips in Eddie’s hair.

“Good.”

He squeezes, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He closes his eyes.

He can hear his own heart pounding, can hear Steve’s soft breaths. Steve is heavy on his lap, his weight almost grounding as Eddie’s head fills with clouds. A soft noise escapes Eddie, a weak choked off moan, and Steve giggles again.

And then he’s kissing him, and Eddie thinks he might die.

He doesn’t even open his eyes, just exhales and reaches up to push his fingers into Steve’s soft hair. His head tilts, and his other hand tightens on Steve’s waist, but just as his lips begin to part, Steve pulls away sharply.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at him to find him wide-eyed and red-faced.

“‘S wrong?” Eddie asks softly, his hand shifting to Steve’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, his voice heavy. “I didn’t ask, I—“

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “You don’t have to ask, it’s okay.”

Steve blinks at him, looking like he might cry, and Eddie’s chest tightens.

“You can kiss me,” he breathes. “If you want.”

“I can?” Steve asks in a small voice. Eddie nods, smiling.

Steve stares, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie’s, and Eddie exhales, leaning up and lifting his chin to kiss him softly. Steve’s breath stutters in his chest, and Eddie holds his face, pulling him closer.

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s neck, and he raises up on his knees as he kisses back desperately, and Eddie’s whole body aches. Eddie’s lips part as he grins, and Steve’s tongue slides between them, tracing his teeth. Eddie clutches at him, his hands gripping his t-shirt and his hips before they find his thighs, squeezing and slipping under the hem of his shorts.

Steve pulls away for a gasp of air, tilting his head and kissing him again so hard their teeth clash. Eddie’s brows furrow, and he sits up straight, his head falling back.

Steve lowers back down to Eddie’s lap, and one of Eddie’s hands slides to the small of his back, tugging him closer as Steve’s teeth catch Eddie’s lip. A whimper escapes Eddie, and his face burns.

One of Steve’s hands slides into Eddie’s hair, gripping it like he’s holding Eddie in place, and Eddie exhales sharply, his jaw dropping enough for Steve to lick into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie gasps. His voice is embarrassingly high, breathy and soft, and Steve pulls away. His eyes are shining, his lips red.

“What?”

“I, uhm.” Eddie closes his eyes, breathing hard. “I forgot about your piercing.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses, holding Eddie’s head in his hands. “Should I take it out?”

“No,” Eddie says quickly. “No, don’t, it’s… It’s nice.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Okay.”

“Come here.”

Steve kisses him again, catching Eddie’s lip between his own for a moment before he pulls away and looks at him. Eddie encourages him with a gentle tug at his back, and Steve leans back down again.

Eddie relaxes against the sofa when Steve’s hand finds his neck again. He isn’t squeezing, isn’t choking, just holding him almost mindlessly, like it’s where his hand belongs.

Eddie’s brows furrow again, listening to the soft sounds of Steve sucking on his lip, the soft sounds that escape Steve’s throat. He’s almost shivering, chills hovering over his skin like there’s static in the air, and he’s breathing so hard he might start hyperventilating.

“Stevie,” he chokes when Steve releases his lip. (It’s sore. Eddie loves it.) Steve just whines in response, squeezing his neck gently. “I…” He stares, his eyes burning as he looks at Steve’s flushed cheeks, his shiny lips.

“Eddie, please,” Steve chokes, taking short, stuttering breathes. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“‘S okay,” Eddie breathes, lifting a hand to Steve’s head, pushing his fingers into his hair. “I got you.”

“Please,” Steve whimpers. “Please, please, Eddie, please, I—“

“C’mere,” Eddie mutters, pulling him down and kissing him desperately, biting his lip. “It’s okay, baby, I got you.”

“Please—“ Steve whimpers, his fingers tightening on Eddie’s neck, and Eddie gasps. “Please, I need—“

“Take it,” Eddie says breathlessly, squeezing his leg and letting his head fall back as Steve leans close enough that Eddie is swallowing his breath. “Take what you need, baby, it’s okay.”

He expects Steve to start rolling his hips, or to tear his or Eddie’s shirt off, or to lean in and slide his tongue back into Eddie’s shirt, but Steve just squeezes his neck, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

“Deep breath, sweetheart.”

Steve inhales deeply, his other hand holding the back of Eddie’s head gently, his fingers wound in his curls.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“My parents—“ Steve starts, taking a short breath. Eddie rubs his leg gently, his other hand pressed firmly against his back. “My parents always talked about— about queers.”

Eddie looks into his eyes. They’re swimming with tears.

“About how—“ He cuts off to swallow. “How disgusting they are, and how— how sinful they are, and—“

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. He’s heard the same things. Of course he has. He’s never understood it.

How somehow could hate something as beautiful as love.

“But this…” Steve holds Eddie’s face between his hands. He wipes a tear that Eddie didn’t notice falling from his eye. “I’ve never felt like— like there’s anything wrong with this.”

“There isn’t,” Eddie chokes. “There’s nothing wrong with this, baby.” Steve exhales, his thumbs brushing over Eddie’s cheeks. “Come here.”

Steve leans in and kisses him softly before he pulls away just enough that their lips brush when he whispers.

“I love you.”

Eddie’s eyes open slowly, and pulls away to look at him, his hands holding him.

“…Really?”

Steve swallows, his hands falling to hold the collar of Eddie’s shirt, resting on his shoulders, and he nods. Eddie blinks tears back, letting out a soft laugh.

“Oh.”

Steve hesitates, holding onto Eddie’s shirt, looking across his face.

“Is that okay?”

Eddie laughs again, a tear falling from his eye, and he nods.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “Yeah, it’s okay, Stevie, oh my god.”

“Oh,” Steve says, relaxing, smiling. “Okay.”

“I love you too,” Eddie says, his chest tight, sliding a hand up to hold the side of Steve’s neck, his thumb resting on his jaw.

“Oh,” Steve says lightly. “That’s…”

Eddie laughs softly, leaning in and letting his head fall against Steve’s chest.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, tugging his hair gently. Eddie hums softly, pressing his hand against the small of his back. “Wanna kiss.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, holding his tighter, and he lifts his head, pressing kisses to Steve’s neck. He can hear his heartbeat, can smell his blood beneath his skin, can almost taste it as he drags his tongue over his pulse.

Steve whimpers, his hand tightening his Eddie’s hair, and then he tugs sharply, pulling Eddie away and leaning down to kiss him so hard it almost hurts.

Eddie groans quietly, slipping his hand under Steve’s shirt to the warmth of his skin, and Steve licks Eddie’s mouth open, breathing hard. Eddie shivers when their tongues slide together, and Steve grins, sliding a hand to Eddie’s throat.

He squeezes gently when he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, and Eddie thinks he might die, letting out a strangled whimper at the pressure, at the smooth slide of the metal stud of Steve’s piercing against the underside of his tongue. There’s a string of spit connecting them when he pulls away, and Eddie is panting, and Steve is grinning.

“Christ, Steve.”

Steve giggles softly, tears still in his eyes, and his fingers tighten gently. Eddie takes a breath, his head falling back.

“Okay?” Steve asks softly.

“Harder.”

Steve squeezes harder, his head tilting curiously as Eddie’s breath catches and he whimpers, letting his eyes close. Steve’s hand is warm, but Eddie shivers anyway. He taps Steve’s back gently after a few moments, and Steve releases him.

“God.”

Steve smiles, his finger brushing up and down his neck so gently it almost tickles.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Eddie is breathing hard, his eyes still closed, and Steve leans down to kiss him, licking into his mouth and sucking on his lip even though Eddie can’t kiss back.

Steve drags his lips across Eddie’s cheek, trailing wet kisses over his skin, until he’s kissing his jaw and just under his ear.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, tilting his head, listening to the wet sounds of Steve’s lips on his skin. He rubs his hand across the small of Steve’s back. Steve hums softly, his lips finding Eddie’s earlobe.

“Should get your ears pierced,” Steve whispers, his breath against Eddie’s skin, and Eddie shivers again, chills running down his spine.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sucks on his earlobe softly, his piercing running across it, and Eddie bites his lip, furrowing his brows. “Would sound so pretty, don’t you think?”

Eddie agrees, tensing as he imagines the soft clicking of Steve’s tongue stud against his earring.

“Shit.” He can feel Steve smile against his skin. “How do you know me so well?” he wonders out loud, his head tilting so Steve can kiss down his neck sloppily, leaving spit and bruises in his path. “Like you know every fuckin’ button I have.”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn, and Steve’s teeth close on his skin gently, nibbling between puffs of hot breath. Eddie slides a hand into Steve’s hair, holding the back of his head gently.

“‘M in love with you too,” Eddie murmurs.

“Fuck.”

Steve licks across his neck, dragging his piercing over his skin, sucking a bruise into his skin before he pulls away and tilts his head to switch sides.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, his hand slipping to Steve’s hip and pulling him closer. Steve hums softly, his teeth digging into Eddie’s skin.

When he’s satisfied, he pulls away, admiring his work, tracing the bruises with a light finger before he falls forward and his forehead presses to Eddie’s.

Eddie closes his eyes, holding him close, breathing him in. He smells masculine and warm, like something Eddie would like to eat. Like home.

“Who would’ve thought?” Eddie murmurs when Steve nudges their faces together. Steve pulls away to look at him, and Eddie gazes at him, admiring the flush of his cheeks, his kissed-red lips. “Ste-e-eve Harrington.”

“Surprised?” Steve whispers, holding Eddie’s face.

“Hm.” Eddie takes a deep breath, gazing up at him. “Honestly, not really.”

“No?”

Eddie reaches up, touching Steve’s face, holding his chin.

“We cuddle almost every night, sweetheart.”

“‘S true.”

Steve holds his hand to his face.

“So you’re my boyfriend?” he asks almost shyly. Eddie smiles, pausing to swallow before he speaks.

“If you want me to be.”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie leans up and kisses him softly.

“You already act like my boyfriend,” Steve says quietly when they part.

“How so?”

Steve leans back, looking at him, his cheeks pink.

“You take care of me,” he says softly, averting his gaze, down to where his legs rest on either side of Eddie’s hips. “Make me feel safe. Make me feel beautiful,” he adds, his voice almost just a breath.

“Come here.”

Eddie kisses him chastely before he wraps his arms around his waist, sighing as Steve hugs him, relaxing against him. Steve tucks his face back into his neck, his breath warm against Eddie’s skin.

They fall asleep on the sofa, after moving to lay down, wrapped completely around each other, with Eddie’s pulse against Steve’s fingertips.

It’s bright when Eddie wakes up, his face covered by Steve’s hair. He squeezes his eyes shut, sighing heavily, moving his hands. They’re resting on Steve’s back as Steve lays on top on his, between his legs.

There’s noise in the kitchen.

Clatter of dishes and soft voices and the scrape of a chair over the tile floor, and Eddie blinks his eyes open, looking up at the ceiling.

Steve makes a quiet noise under him, a sleepy noise that’s rough in his throat, and Eddie runs his hand through his hair. He sits up heavily, pushing himself up over Eddie and looking down at him. His hair falls around their face like a a curtain, blocking the sunlight out, and Eddie wants to kiss him.

“Is that Robin?” Steve grumbles. Eddie pauses, listening, and he hears Robin’s voice, speaking indistinctly, and a soft laugh from Nancy.

“Sounds like it,” he says quietly.

“What are they doing in my house?” Steve mumbles, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s forehead before he gets up, groaning as he stretches.

Eddie follows him to the kitchen, rubbing his face and squinting as sunlight reflects off the white walls. Robin is sitting on a counter, talking as Nancy makes coffee. Argyle is sitting on the dining table, following a joint while Jonathan watches. Nancy sees them first, looking over as they walk in.

“Morning, sleepyheads— Holy shit.”

Robin looks around her and bursts into laughter as Eddie raises an eyebrow in confusion. Jonathon looks up at them, his eyes scanning both of them vaguely, unimpressed, and Argyle grins at them.

“Jesus, Steve,” Robin says. “I thought Eddie was the vampire.”

Oh.

Eddie’s face burns as he looks at Steve, whose face is red.

“Shut up,” Steve snaps at Robin, who cackles, and he goes over to smack the back of her head as he reaches into the cabinet behind her to get his medication.

Eddie hesitates in the doorway, watching Steve pop the pills into his mouth and sip from the faucet while trying to avoid Robin’s kicking feet. He pushes his hair back, stepping to Nancy and asking quietly for a hair tie. She’s grinning as she stirs her coffee and she just holds her wrist up for him to take it. He kisses her hand when he does.

After tying his hair up, he goes to sit on the table behind where Jonathan is sitting backwards on a chair, using Jonathan’s head to hoist itself up, and Jonathan laughs lightly.

“Morning, fellas.”

“It’s past noon,” Jonathan says dryly.

“Oh, perfect, ‘s not too early to smoke.”

“It’s never too early, my friend,” Argyle says, handing a joint out to Eddie, who takes it with a smile.

Eddie watches while Steve pours coffee into two mugs, while he scoops the perfect amount of sugar and pours the perfect amount of cream into one of them. He watches while Steve banters with Robin, his cheeks still red, while he dodges her hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Steve brings the coffee over to him, greeting Jonathan and standing next to Eddie as he sets the coffee down. Eddie lifts his chin, pulling the joint away from his lips as Steve leans down, and Steve smiles, leaning in until his lips brush Eddie’s.

Eddie blows smoke into his mouth slowly, smiling, and he kisses him before he pulls away. Steve blows the smoke into his face.

Eddie turns to find Argyle gazing at them as he lifts his mug to sip his coffee.

“Dude.”

“I love love,” Argyle says simply, and Jonathan snorts.

“Yeah, me too, man,” Eddie says, lifting his mug.

Steve cooks while Robin and Nancy drink their coffee, and Eddie follows him, sitting on the counter. He watches Robin mindlessly play with the ends of Nancy’s hair while Nancy takes a drag from Argyle’s joint.

Eddie cleans the dishes after they eat, and Steve takes his place on the counter, and Eddie leans against it, between his legs. Steve sets his arms over Eddie’s shoulders while Eddie watches the others laugh and talk across the table. Argyle is telling some story, and Jonathan is hiding his face behind his shirt as he laughs.

“Alright?” Steve asks quietly, leaning down so his mouth is right by his ear. Eddie tilts his head, relaxing against his chest.

“Mhmm.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, his hand moving to trace soft lines over Eddie’s neck for a moment before it stops and presses into a spot that’s no doubt bruised red or purple. Eddie bites his lip, his cheeks flushing as it hurts, and he wants to let Steve do it harder, but he smacks his hand away, and Steve giggles.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly, looking back at him as Steve leans forward and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Eddie says softly. Steve’s fingers run over the back of his exposed neck before he hugs him.

“I love you too.”

Steve buries his face in Eddie’s neck, kissing him gently, and Eddie’s hands find Steve’s forearms, holding him and smiling, his eyes fluttering shut before Robin’s voice says loudly, “Oh my god.”

Steve laughs without lifting his head, his breath hot against Eddie’s skin, and Eddie opens his eyes, laughing when he finds her staring at them.

“You guys were already insufferable with the PDA.”

Steve laughs again, looking up and setting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna have to deal with it, Buckley,” Eddie says dryly. “I’ve got a hot boyfriend, I’m not gonna keep my hands off him.”

She just gives him an immense eye-roll, and Nancy grins, her eyes sparkling as Steve hides his face back in Eddie’s neck.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Argyle says, giving them a nod of approval.

“Thanks, Argyle.”

“Wait, does this mean your guest room is up for grabs now?” Robin asks, leaning so she can see them both around Nancy.

“Uh.” Steve hums a soft mhmm into his neck, and Eddie grins. “Let me take my posters and shit and yeah.”

“Nice.”

She moves in the next week. She often joins Steve in napping on Eddie.

tagging: @allbimyself26 @th3-r4t-k1ng @marvelmwah @papermachedragons @symbioticsimplicity @hereissananxiousmess @telidina @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @messrs-weasley @suikatto @fandemonium-takes-its-toll thank you all sm <3

and just bc i thought everyone might wanna know, the person that tweeted the post that inspired this also wrote something based on it too!! you can find it here :)

#ta da #i already have another wip for them #not including the ficlet series thing i’m doing #:) #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

[nomazee]

take me home

march 7th x reader 

word count: 1.3k

summary: it’s late at night, and your hands are stained with the harsh charcoal of your artwork—which means, naturally, that march’s hands are softening just to take care of you. 

content: COLLEGE AU, roommates, comfort (without any hurt really), pining, reader is an art major (I AM PROJECTING), sickeningly sweet, unspoken love

notes: a request has been sitting in my inbox for months now. this is not that request. i am so sorry. every time i add another wip to my in-progress page suddenly i lose all motivation to work on ANYTHING on that list and instead i do this. i vomit on a google doc. ok. anyways... ENJOY

<><><><><>

at midnight, you come back to the ground after working on autopilot for two hours. now that you’re present, grounded, in this world, you can feel the tremble of your hands and the ache in your stomach from only drinking lukewarm plain tea for half the day. 

it’s an awful, awful habit, and you know that. you just don’t have the space to work on fixing it in the throes of three midterm projects and an exam. you look down at your hands, stained with a mix of white and black charcoal. it’s caked under your fingers, too, and eraser shreds cling to your skin. in the dim light of your desk lamp, they kind of look like tiny worms, and the thought makes you shiver. 

march comes into your room, the only indicator being the clicks of your door opening and closing and the gentle shuffle of her slippers against your carpet. you don’t turn—you never need to, with her, because she’s already putting a gentle hand on your shoulder and leaning down to whisper something in your ear, something like “come eat, i made you dinner,” or maybe “take a shower, i’ll clean your room.” whatever it is, the specifics don’t matter, because these nights always end the same. 

it’s a gentle routine. something you don’t get often, which is good, because at least that means you don’t overwork yourself near the point of sickness too often. but it’s also terrible, because that means the uncharacteristic softness of march’s hands against your shoulders and voice against your cheek and weight against your back will always be that—uncharacteristic. like an astrological event that only comes once every million years, except you get it maybe once every month, which still isn’t enough for your yearning, empty hands. 

you’re in the kitchen, suddenly, led by march’s arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as she walks in tandem with you. her mouth presses against your cheek, you’re pretty sure, as she sits you down in your cramped, tiny kitchen and slides a hot bowl of something in front of you. 

“i’m gonna tidy your room. is there anything you don’t want me to touch?” and there’s a twitch in your face now, because you were right about the cleaning-your-room part, and march always asks this. if there’s anything she shouldn’t touch, because there’s something about the late hours of the night that makes her suddenly so considerate about little things like that. 

“just the drawing,” you tell her, because the drawing is thirty-six by forty-eight inches and took you two weeks and a lot of stress to finish, and if something happened to it then you’d burn the entire campus down, “but everything else is fine. thank— thank you.” 

and it’s hard getting that out, and you feel ridiculous for it. like you’re some spoiled kid who was never raised to say thank you in your life, but this is hard. this is different, because you’re twenty and your roommate has taken care of you more times than you’re willing to admit and yet she never expects anything of you. and it hurts because she’s the type of person who you think might hold it against you—in a joking, lighthearted way, like you have to get me one of those expensive coffee’ from the campus cafe before class tomorrow, or next time we order food you’re paying, but instead she just never mentions it and it makes you want to throw up, maybe. 

but you don’t—throw up, that is, because there’s a steaming bowl of rice and vegetables in front of you and the sound of shuffling and pencils being put away echoes from your room down the hall and everything is so domestic and it’s so late at night that you just sink into it. happy and content and warm, deep in your gut where the emptiness was sitting. 

march pulls you away, again, once your bowl is empty and you finish the cup of water she gave you. you close your eyes blearily and feel a wet wipe on your face, one of those cleansing wipes that you buy for times like this when you’re too tired to actually wash your face. of course, you didn’t expect them to be used like this when you first started buying them—with your roommate rubbing firm circles into your skin, close enough that you can hear the whistle of her nose every time she exhales. you don’t complain. not with march. never with march.

“i’m tired,” you’re saying, and your eyes are still shut and the ache in your hands has spread through your entire body. you’re well-fed and satiated and your face is damp with diluted tea tree oil instead of the icky sheen of sweat from before, and you’re tired. you whine it out, almost, like a petulant child in the car on a road trip asking are we there yet, and pretending to be asleep when the car engine slows to a stop and the car doors start to open.

march’s hands cradle your face, cleansing wipe discarded somewhere on the counter. and your eyes are still closed, and you’re really considering it—the whole faking-being-asleep thing, because you’d love nothing more than for march to guide you to bed with a hand slung around your waist, tracing the strip of skin under the hem of your shirt and maybe a gentle kiss on your cheek, or maybe even your neck. the night is deep, and your eyelids are weighing down on the rest of your body, and your inhibitions have dwindled with the sun a long time ago. there’s nothing stopping the flood of stupid sappy thoughts rushing through your sleep-addled brain. 

“i know,” march mumbles, something like affection in her voice. her words are cut off, like she wants to say something else, like she wants to tag on a pet name and call you my love or baby or sweetheart. you say, “i’m really tired, march,” because if you don’t get to bed soon then you’re going to start saying these things out loud and to her face. 

but that just makes it worse, because now it’s like she’s pouring everything she can into you. all her half-reluctant affections and the tenderness of her eyes and the way her thumbs are rubbing circles into your jaw now. she looks at you with furrowed brows and a corner of her mouth presses downward, like she’s worried, and you want to laugh because you never thought your stupid, half-rude, stubborn roommate would be worried for you. 

“okay. let’s get you to bed.” she puts an arm around your shoulder and guides you up from the couch that she set you down on when she was cleaning your face, and you want her to pick you up so badly that you can’t stop the way your hand comes up to clutch at her shoulder, too, while she walks patiently next to your weak, sluggish legs. you might cry, or kiss her, or fall asleep slumped against her side, and you don’t know what would be worse. 

there’s no more time to contemplate that, anyways, because now you’re in bed and march is tucking you in and you feel childish. “i’m sorry” bubbles up at your throat and you get half of it out before she clicks her tongue, letting out a heavy sigh as she kneels by your nightstand, tidying the scraps of paper and gum wrappers and dusty glasses of water. 

“what are you even apologizing for?” she asks rhetorically. it’s almost scolding, but she cares in her own way, and you’ve known her long enough to understand what her tone means. you wish she’d get mad instead of being so kind. you wish she would be as sarcastic as she is in the daytime with you instead of softening at the edges and at the center and at the sides. you wish she’d kiss you, maybe. 

“i don’t know.” you’re not even sure if your words are making any sense, if the vowels slur together or if your tongue even hits the roof of your mouth or if you’re already asleep—but you must be asleep, because you can feel a pressure against your cheek and surely that can’t be march kissing you goodnight. of course it wouldn’t be.

#march x reader #honkai star rail x reader #march 7th x reader #march 7 x reader #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #march 7th #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #march 7th fanfiction #march 7th fic #honkai star rail fic #hsr fic #honkai star rail x you #march 7th x you #march 7th hsr x you #march 7th hsr x reader #march 7th fluff #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #honkai x you #march 7th x y/n #march x y/n #honkai star rail x y/n #hsr x y/n

[solarishashernoseinabook]

Oehhhh, treat! Alyss being heavily pregnant with Will's child, goes in labor. As birth is a women's thing, Will is freaking the fuck out about everything that could go wrong. Halt and Horace are being their classic selves in dad and bro mode to support him. Will everything go okay? Will Will storm in to be with Alyss? Will she live? I leave that up to you :)

Aaaaaah okay this was very fun to write actually thank you :D

~

Halt swung down from Abelard and helped Pauline down from her horse Clipper. ‘How’s Alyss?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Will said. ‘It started in the middle of the night, and I thought it was another false alarm, you know, she’s had a couple of those, but her contractions started coming faster and her back started hurting and it was going on for a while and—’

‘Will, breathe,’ Pauline said, trying not to smile. ‘Have you called the midwife yet?’

‘The midwife.’ Will blanched. ‘I haven’t gotten the midwife yet! What if I go and I’m out too long and something happens? What if—’

‘Will, I’m fine,’ Alyss said, leaning on the doorway. Stray tendrils of hair had escaped her bun to frame her face, and she wore a blue wool dress against the late autumn chill. She offered Halt and Pauline a tired smile. ‘Come on in. I already sent the midwife a pigeon, so she should be on her way. Is Horace coming?’

‘Yes, and Cassandra. They just need to finish up what they had to do at the castle,’ Pauline said, entering the small cabin. Halt, following along after her, put a hand on Will’s shoulder and drew him inside.

Will allowed Halt to steer him to the table and didn’t protest when Halt pushed him into a chair. Without a word, Halt went to the cabin’s small kitchen and put coffee on the stove, then began slicing bread and cheese. Alyss had already stretched out on the couch, rubbing her stomach and hissing at her discomfort.

‘It’s lucky Horace and Cass are here,’ Will said. ‘They wouldn’t be able to get here from Castle Araluen in time.’

Halt, sliding coffee and a plate of food onto the table, raised an eyebrow. ‘You think it’s luck?’

‘Isn’t it?’ Will said, bewildered.

‘They planned this trip so they could be here for the birth,’ Pauline said. ‘They had some genuine work to do, of course, but it could have waited another month or so.’

‘They knew this was going to happen today?’ Will said.

‘We all had a suspicion it would happen soon,’ Halt said, ‘given that Alyss has looked ready to burst for a week or so now. Sorry, Alyss.’

Alyss waved him off. ‘No, that’s fairly accurate to how I’ve felt this past week.’

‘We’re here!’ Horace called, knocking as he pushed open the door. ‘Is the baby here yet?’

‘Horace, don’t be ridiculous, the baby probably won’t be here till tonight,’ Cassandra said, following him with Maddie swaddled in her arms. She only gave Will a passing smile before going to Alyss. ‘How’s it going? Has your water broken yet?���

‘Not yet. Thanks for coming.’ Alyss’s grin turned into grimace. Horace took Maddie from Cassandra and Pauline brought over some chairs, and the three women sat huddled together, Pauline helping Alyss eat and Cassandra talking about her experience giving birth to Maddie. Horace locked eyes with Will and nodded towards the door, and Will, Halt, and Horace went to sit on the porch.

*

The midwife had spoken briefly to Will before going inside to Alyss. Will could hear the women’s voices drifting through the window, interspersed with sounds of pain from Alyss. ‘Maybe I should go in there.’

‘I wasn’t allowed to go in when Maddie was born,’ Horace said. ‘The midwife made me leave.’

Will looked up when Halt came out of the house with fresh coffee. ‘Halt? Have you ever attended a baby’s birth?’

Halt settled down on the porch steps next to Will. ‘I believe I was present for Ferris’s.’

‘Really?’ Will said, intrigued. ‘How was it? What did you do?’

Halt scratched his nose slowly. ‘I believe I cried,’ he said, ‘on account of the fact that I was seven minutes old at the time.’

Will groaned, but Horace laughed. ‘You walked right into that one, Will.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Will grumbled.

*

Horace volunteered to start on dinner that night. Will was holding Maddie against his shoulder, looking at the sun lowering over the tree line. ‘Halt?’

‘Hm?’ Halt hadn’t moved in over an hour; Will had almost thought he was asleep.

Will spoke slowly, finally voicing the thought that had bothered him since Alyss announced she was pregnant. ‘Do you think I’ll be a good dad?’

Halt sat up in his chair and let out a deep breath. ‘Probably,’ he grunted. ‘You’re good with people. That probably translates to being good with kids, too.’

Will gave him a grin. ‘Thanks.’

They lapsed into silence again. To Will’s surprise, Halt was the one who finally broke it, the words soft-spoken and hesitant. ‘I wasn’t always the person you needed me to be. I wasn’t always sure what to do or say. But…’

‘No,’ Will said, without thinking. ‘I mean – you were fine. You were a good…’ Will swallowed heavily. You were a good dad, he wanted to say. The words seemed to hang in the air between them.

And then Will heard Alyss’s anguished cry from the bedroom. He was barely aware of Halt taking Maddie from him, barely aware of jumping out of his chair and crossing the living room, passing Horace and Cassandra and Pauline as he went. The next thing he knew, he was at Alyss’s side, one arm around her shoulders, smoothing hair away from her forehead. She reached for his hand and they held onto each other tightly, knuckles white, Will blind to the pain in his fingers.

And then, after what might have been minutes or hours, the tension drained out of Alyss’s body and she sagged against Will. For just a moment, Will’s heart stopped, seized with sudden fear for her safety and the baby’s.

But then the silence was broken by a baby crying, and Alyss smiled, and Will felt so dizzy with relief that he was the one leaning against her. ‘Congratulations,’ the midwife said, laying the baby gently in Alyss’s arms. ‘You have a little girl.’

*

The midwife had cleaned the room while Alyss and Will held their daughter, then spent some time talking to Alyss about what she could expect over the next few days. Will had been shocked to learn that Alyss could expect to remain uncomfortable for quite some time, as her body needed to adjust to no longer being pregnant, but the midwife promised to come back every day to make sure it was all going smoothly.

Will had also been told, in no uncertain terms, that his job was just beginning. ‘She needs rest, and she’s not likely to get that with a newborn,’ the midwife said firmly. ‘You’ll be the one cleaning up and getting her food and taking the baby sometimes so she can sleep. If you could feed her too, I’d tell you to take on your fair share of that as well, but seeing as you can’t you’ll need to work twice as hard to make up for that! And make sure you make her good food, as long as she’s nursing your wife is eating for two, you hear?’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Will said. The promise meant more to him than all the oaths and vows he had taken up to this point in his life.

Finally the midwife left. Will heard her speak briefly to everyone in the main room, but he didn’t bother listening to her. He helped Alyss lie down properly and mopped the sweat from her brow, then tucked the blanket around her. He kissed her forehead and held her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb, until she fell into a gentle sleep. Then, as quietly as he could, he picked up their daughter and stepped out into the main room.

Everyone was still wide awake, despite the lateness of the hour. Will made his way to the couch and sat down slowly, and looked up at the people he considered his family. He smiled.

‘Her name’s Corina.’

#asks #ra #rangers apprentice #will treaty #alyss mainwaring #halt o'carrick #horace altman #princess cassandra #trick or treat fic fest 2k23

[aquidragon]

right in the world

this is my *real* first Leon fic, so please forgive me for any errors! CW: brief mention of sex word count: 1636 summary: you can’t sleep, and leon returns home from his mission in Spain late at night. (aka, just some domestic fluff)

A loud crash of thunder made you shoot up in your bed, panting heavily as a cold sweat tingled your spine. Your mind spun with whatever dream that you had been pulled from, as you tried to get your breathing back in check. Heart pounding wildly against your ribs, you slowly find your grip on reality again. 

You’re in your bedroom, engulfed in darkness, beside the faint glow of the nightlight that was plugged in by the closet door. The soft steel blue sheets of your bed were tussled about, most likely due to your tossing and turning throughout the night. Even the side where your husband usually slept, to your left, was pulled to your side. 

You groan loudly, rubbing your sore eyes as you lean over to tuck Leon’s blanket back over to his side. He was currently in Europe, for some special classified mission for his job. Usually, his missions lasted two days to three weeks; depending on the task at hand. He rarely told you about the details of his job, mostly due to the laundry list of government policies for their agents.

Not that you really cared anyway, Leon told you enough information to satisfy you. 

The pillows behind you make a small thumping noise as you fall back, looking at the lazily spinning ceiling fan above you. Your nerves tingled, as if something was wrong, a small knot began to form in your throat. The storm raged on right outside your window, the glass panes rattled in the wind. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, in a feeble attempt to force yourself to fall back asleep. It felt as if a weight was being applied to your chest, with an unbearable feeling of anxiety crushed your lungs. It was impossible to rest, you needed to quell this odd feeling of unease before you could even think about sleeping. 

The clock beside you read 2:47am, luckily, it was a Friday; so you didn’t have to worry about worrying about waking up for work. 

Another boom of thunder drew your attention to the window, that sat across from the master bed. The curtains mostly shielded the view, but you could see the flashes of lighting from the slim crack between the two dark sheets of fabric. You slowly slipped off the bed, your bare-feet brushing against the carpeted space of the bedroom floor. 

The curtains whisked open to reveal the quiet street, the road reflected the street lights, as not a single soul could be seen. The trees bent with the wind, as the rain pounded against any surface it came across. You press a hand to the window, the smooth glass was cold against your flesh. 

You wondered if Leon was alright, he had been gone for his mission for over a day now, hopefully, he wasn’t flying in this weather. A deep exhale left your lips as your shoulders sagged, and your head throbbed with the impending tension headache building behind your eyes. 

Yep, there was no way you were sleeping for a while.

With a small grumble, walk back over to your huge bed, flicking on the lamp that was on your side. Luckily, the lamp shade was thick enough to keep the light at a comfortable level, without burning your sensitive retinas. You slide into your fuzzy slippers and make your way over to the kitchen. 

Making coffee at this hour wasn’t very wise, but there was no harm in a nice cup of calming tea. The rain picked up outside, as you began to fill the kettle with water. Your MP3 player sat on the counter nearby, charging silently. You shrug your shoulders reaching over to the device to plug in your headphones as you waited for the water to heat up. 

Your favorite song blasted in your ears as your bleary eyes watched as the small blue flames danced around the bottom of the silvery metal of the kettle. You didn’t hear the front door open and close behind you. 

The melody of the song that blasted into your ears made you move your body to the beat, humming along as you tap your foot. However, your jam session was interrupted by strong arms wrapping around your middle. Soft pink lips pressed against your neck as your back was pulled to a hard chest.

You pull your headphones off of your head, turning around slightly to see your exhausted husband. His ice blue eyes were rimmed with a dark circle of exhaustion, and he was covered in filth from head to toe. 

“What are you doing up so late, sweetheart?” Leon rumbled, his chest vibrating against your spine. 

You sigh, slumping a bit and leaning into him. “Nightmare, also this thunderstorm didn’t help either.” 

The blonde man hummed in response, his attention quickly drawn to the whistling kettle on the stove. You turn off the heat, his arms still wrapped around your stomach. He continues to cling to you as you pour the hot water into a waiting mug; a teabag already waiting inside. 

“Do you want tea, Leon?” You wrinkle your nose as you finally smell the scent of rotting flesh and sweat on the man. “-after you shower.” 

Leon whines out your name, shaking your body slightly. “I wanted to shower with you, though.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “No way, you smell too bad. Go shower, I’ll meet you in the living room.” 

“Women.” Leon groans, finally letting you free from his grasp. There is a slight limp to his step as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

“I’ll tend to your wounds after you’re done too!” You call back, blowing on the surface of the steaming beverage. 

Your husband makes a loud affirmative noise, then closes the door to the bathroom. Within moments, you could hear the pipes rushing with hot water. You sit on one of the plush cushions of the navy blue couch, and the pattern of rain on the large window cast an interesting pattern across the small apartment-sized living room. 

Ten minutes had passed before the loud squeaking of the shower knobs signaled that Leon was done with his shower. As promised, you entered the bathroom, ready to tend to whatever battle wounds he had gotten from his most recent mission. 

The government agent had a habit of avoiding doctors, which left the nurse role to his wife. 

He was patiently waiting on the stool that was usually kept in the small bathroom closet, a towel wrapped around his waist. You scanned his body up and down; noting the cut on his cheek. The blonde also had a few smaller cuts and scrapes across his body as well.

“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” Leon teased cheekily, earning him a gentle smack on his broad shoulder. 

You open the medicine cabinet above the sink, before sitting on the toilet seat to tend to his injuries. “Hush, you. I’m your wife, we’re past the dinner part.” 

He beamed at your comment, his pearly white teeth peeked through his chapped lips. “You’re my wife.” 

Your face heats in a small blush as you begin to pour anti-septic on a cotton swab. “For two years, Leon. It’s certainly not new.” 

“We could be married for fifty years, and it would still be as new to me as it was during our Honeymoon.” Leon’s words were sweet, making you smile. 

You apologized softly as you dragged the swab across the cut on his cheek, making him hiss slightly. You wondered how he got this cut, but you knew that he couldn’t tell you; even if he wanted to. 

His azure eyes were downcast, studying the dark tiles of the floor as you began to stitch up his wound. It would certainly leave a scar, but he seemed to be a fast healer. “How was your mission?” You ask gently, as soon as you finished your threading. 

“It was a success, thankfully.” Leon sighed, exhaustion evident in his voice. “A few bumps along the way; but I made it.”

You nod, beginning to clean the rest of his less serious injury. “That’s good, I worry about you, you know?” 

“I know.” A small silence passes between you two, and you notice that the storm has begun to calm down outside the window. Leon’s fingers twitch slightly, as he looks away from you. You look up at him, concerned. 

“Are you alright, hon?” 

Your husband looks back at you, eyes wide as if he didn’t realize his actions. “Y-yeah, sorry. I guess I’m just tired.” 

He rises to his feet, and the skin around his left ankle is purple with bruises. “My ankle is sprained, I’ll have to take a few weeks off in order to recover.” 

You nod, agreeing with his prognosis. “I’m sure you’re loaded with paperwork anyway, probably for the best.” You stand as well, gently rubbing his shoulders reassuringly. Together, you head out of the bathroom. Leon’s hand is tight around the gray towel around his waist. Both of you were too tired for sexual intimacy, which was quite unusual whenever your husband returned from his trips. 

To be fair, though, he rarely returned at past 2 in the morning. 

Your bed felt a lot more comfortable with the blonde beside you; who chose to sleep nude due to his sensitive skin. His arms were wrapped around your body, tangling limbs like a pretzel. His breath was warm against your exposed neck as he held you close. 

“I hate this job.” He grumbled, eyes closed. “I hate being away from you.”

You yawned, shutting your own eyes. “I know.” 

As the storm rumbles in the distance, you feel yourself begin to be lulled off to sleep. Everything was right in the world, just for the night, in Leon’s arms.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fluff

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [04. A Life as a Writer (and a Barista)]

For Day 21 of Carry on Countdown 23, Begin Again. @carryon-countdown

Basil is a writer in dire need of a starting line. But where the bloody hell is he going to find it?

Rated T for Basil being a Smut Author and Simon being a Smut Enthusiast.

This is a series of snapshots of different Simon Snows and Baz Pitches in the greater multiverse. You can find the other "lives" here: [Day 3: Alternate Universe][Day 19: Sci-Fi][Day 20: Flowers]

⋆｡˚

The hardest part of starting a love story, or any story really, is the bloody first line. No matter the environment, the characters, the whole setting, that first bloody line’s always the hardest. Basil’s been sitting on this one for three and a half weeks now. He’s been in bars, dive bars and class acts both, libraries, cafes, parks, even secluded little psychic shops. Nothing seemed to do the trick though. Basil’s remained just as wordless as ever, no matter where he goes.

Lately, though, he’s been haunting this one cafe in particular, with a little disaster of a barista and, he thinks, baker. He hasn’t actually been here early enough to see whether Simon does more than put the pastries out, but he’s always got a bit of a flour smear on his cheeks and his apron’s always a bit of a mess and it just sort of adds up to him being a baker, at least as far as Basil can tell.

He wouldn’t actually know, he’s never been a baker.

Right now, he’s not looking to be much of a writer either. He’s got to at least start this thing. Basil’s got a deal and everything, publishers and editors and such waiting on him. He pitched a damn good plot too and had a decent cast of characters. Now he just had… to bloody do something with it.

Resorting to staring down his empty document just seemed the obvious ‘something’ to do. The cursor blinked threateningly back at him. The cursor was unfortunately, undeniably winning.

Another cup of coffee slides itself in front of Basil, the prior empty one skillfully whisked away to Simon’s tray of dirty dishes. “Still no luck on your start?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve noticed,” Baz groans at the barista, glancing over to him out of the corner of his eyes and sipping his coffee even despite the apparent call-out.

“You’ve been in here every day for the last week,” Simon shrugs, “That doc remains as blank as when you came in the first day.”

“And the coffee?”

“Two hour mark.”

“Well, thank you then,” Baz says with another long spit of coffee, “I just don’t know where to start.”

Simon looks around the cafe, seeing it all but empty except for Basil, and plops himself down across from the struggling writer. “Well, what is it you’re actually trying to start?”

“It’s…” Basil pauses for a moment, assessing Simon with a little more scrutiny before shrugging. He worked in a cafe, there was only so much straight in anyone who works in a cafe, “It’s a romance. I’ve a contract. It’s a supernatural, enemies-to-lovers, witches and werewolves story with all the bells and whistles and underlying fairy tale elements except it’s a bit more future based than middle ages based. Oh, and they’re gay, but you probably could’ve guessed that.”

Simon blinks. “I still have no idea what that’s about.”

“Ah,” Baz lets out an awkward little laugh, “I can give you the proper pitch? I’ve got it all outlined, mostly, it’s just starting it.”

“You got a contract without a manuscript?”

“It’s a sequel, sort of. Like. Same verse, different characters. So yeah, I’ve a contract,” Baz confirms, “I just need to get it rolling.”

“Well, what’s the first one?” Simon asks, precious and innocent.

Basil sighs, supposing if he’s this far in he may as well unmask himself, hopefully Simon just didn’t know what the book was. “Prince of the Drowned.”

“Oh my god,” Simon leans over onto the table and closer to Basil, “That was so smutty… you look so respectable though.”

“Thank you? I think,” Baz snorts out a small laugh. “I guess there goes any hope of you not knowing who I am.”

“I’m not sorry. In fact I might be a little too proud. I don’t read a lot, but that book was hot. So is your next protagonist as much a rake as the last?” Simon, apparently, knows all the romance tropes.

“Well, not as much,” Baz wavers his hand a little bit, “This one’s more a like. Life-long obsession come to fruition sort of vibe. Unhealthy attachment, codependency in all the wrong ways, probably some sick and twisted fantasy fulfillment. You know, not exactly ‘clean’ stuff.”

“Ohh~” Simon bites his lip as the door opens to a new customer, “Okay I’m getting this, but I say start it with a fight. If they’re going to be messy like that, start it with a nasty fight.”

Basil takes a moment as Simon walks away, thinking it over. It works with his rough outline and it fits the vibe. Thank you, random cafe boy, you have truly helped a drowning man out. He puts the first words to page.

And ends up writing three thousand words in a single sitting. It’s a start, he might change it later. He might scrap it entirely later, or put it somewhere else in the novel, or in a different novel altogether, but it’s a start, and that’s better off than he’s been in over a week.

He doesn’t leave without Simon checking in again. “Hey, you’ve got words,” Simon half-sings from over Baz’s shoulder, and Baz immediately tabs away from his work.

“I do,” Baz twists in his seat to look at Simon properly, “And no spoilers for you.”

“That filthy already?” Simon teases and Basil only shrugs.

“Suppose you’ll have to read and find out, won’t you?” Baz smirks a little bit at Simon’s obvious curiosity, “Since you’re obviously a fan and all.”

Simon sighs, “If I bring my book in tomorrow, will you sign it for me?”

Baz can’t quite tell if that’s a tease or not, but he may as well take it for a genuine request. “I feel like that’s the least I can do for someone who helped me at least get a start going.”

“So generous,” Simon sighs, leaning just a little on the back of Baz’s chair, “Your boyfriend must be lucky though, I bet he gets previews of your smut.”

“Ah, well,” Baz shrugs, “If I had one, maybe he would.”

Simon’s lips form a precious little oh, terribly unsubtle for half a moment before leaning off Baz’s chair just as Baz closes his laptop entirely. “So what do you look for in a boyfriend… if you’re up to sharing?”

“That’s incredibly unsubtle, Simon,” Basil fixes his face in an unimpressed sort of look, but Simon’s clearly not buying it.

“So was asking you back tomorrow– and you already agreed.”

Baz let’s Simon have half a smirk and shrugs, “Suppose that I did, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Simon grins back wide at Baz, knowing somehow he’s already won, “So is Basilton you’re real name or…?”

“It is,” Baz answers as he packs everything up, shoulder bag neatly in place, “If I do decide to show up tomorrow, though, you can call me Baz.”

It’s no surprise at all when Basil shows up just as invited the next day. It’s even less of a surprise when he signs his name in that book with his phone number alongside. ‘For the Unsubtle One with a spicy little mind,’ it says in neatly curled silver script. What’s least surprising of all is how quickly Simon calls that number, Baz’s phone ringing before he even manages to leave the cafe.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #begin again #it works i swear #(Taylor's Begin Again takes place in a cafe this takes place in a cafe) #(also basil is struggling to begin his book (again)) #forward as fuck simon and basil #i support them #i'm not in love with this though

[angeliswriting]

softcore - fluff with steven

summary: basically just fluff, steven grant finds you half asleep when you’re meant to be studying and ends up reading to you until you fall asleep

characters: steven grant x reader

wc: 1.4K+

note: not used to writing fluff, been a long time since i wrote anything anyway, plus i wrote this half while listening to the inside llewen davis soundtrack and half while watching the last jedi so might not be great cos i was kind of distracted. but love oscar, especially since moon knight came out he did so good. i did also start a second part to this but not sure yet. anyway, enjoy :)

You rub at your closed eyes, the pad of your thumb pushing against the lid, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that threatened to overcome you. Your back ached from leaning against the wall, your knees tight, tucked up close to you, a heavy book leaning against your legs, your vision blurring as you tried to read the fine print underneath a diagram.

As much as you loved the research side of your job, the long, late-night study sessions at the library were beginning to take a toll on you. Caffeine no longer gave you as much of an energy boost as it used to, and the dark circles under your eyes were becoming increasingly difficult to cover with makeup. You hadn’t slept properly in weeks.

Stifling a yawn with your fist, you turn another page of the book. The lines of text blur together, the images a mix of colours, and you don’t have the will or ability to focus on the information. Your eyes slide shut, your head lolling, your chin falling towards your chest, the faint hum of the lights lull you into sleep, interrupted only by footsteps walking through the shelves.

“Hello...? Oh...god...”

The speaker shuffles towards you, moving the heavy volume from your lap and cupping your face with his palm, gently touching the back of his hand to your forehead.

“You alright?” he asks, mumbling your name. “Hello?”

You moan slightly and force your eyelids to open slightly, a a pair of warm brown eyes staring into yours with worry.

Steven.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, stretching your back. “Mm, yeah, yeah I’m good.” You swallow, your mouth dry. “What are you doing here?”

Steven shrugs, pulling his lips in a tight smile. That smile. That awkward, adorable smile. “The other day at work you said you’d been having some late nights here...I thought you might like some snacks.”

He pulls his backpack towards him and opens it to show you what he’s brought. Mainly sweets and sugary foods, but there’s some fruit too - typical of Steven, he’s always pushing you to eat healthier foods.

You smile as your head falls back against the wall, taking a deep, tired breath. “Thanks, Steven.”

He nods sheepishly, the only acceptance of your gratitude he’ll show. “I also brought you coffee,” he continues, holding a takeaway cup towards you.

You sip it, glad for the caffeine, glad for the beverage that will warm you up.

Steven is the nicest person in the world, something you realised the day you met him. It was almost three months since you’d started an apprenticeship at the museum, having taken the role not only to gain some work experience, but also to help with the research for your masters degree.

That first day…you doubt you would have gotten through it if not for Steven. Donna had been on your case from minute one, you couldn’t turn without her being there, you couldn’t stop and take a moment to breath without her talking at you, putting pressure on you, and your stress was rising, you didn’t know if you would make it through the whole day.

And then Steven, awkward, adorable Steven built up the courage to approach you during your lunch break with a cup of tea.

“I prefer coffee,” you told him with a laugh, “although right now, I’ll take whatever I can get. Thanks.”

He’d told you not to let Donna stress you out too much, that she was typically overbearing with everyone and that you shouldn’t take it personally.

The next day he’d brought you coffee, and the day after you invited him to have his lunch break with you, so he wouldn’t be sat alone like he normally was. Since then, an easy friendship had sprung up between you, bonding over mythology and insomnia.

A friendship you were incredibly grateful for.

 Right now though, you are just tired and uncomfortable.

You wipe you’re knuckles across your eyes again and shift your weight; the wall is like stone against your back and you have lost all feeling in your seated behind.

Steven watches as you try and fail to sit comfortably, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a blanket, which he then proceeds to drape around you. Chuckling, you rearrange it, letting the quilt cushion your back against the wall, covering your arms and shoulders.

It’s a very large blanket, large enough to drown you, and it’s soft and pearl-grey and warm. And it smells of him. The thought of him choosing this blanket to keep you comfortable during your long study sessions made your heart ache. He was too sweet.

And he was still sat cross-legged in front of you, staring down at his twiddling thumbs.

“Hey,” you say, catching his attention. You stretch out the rest of the giant blanket towards him. “It’s not fair for only me to get the blanket.”

His cheeks flush pink. “You mean –-“

“Get over here, silly,” you chuckle, and he scrambles over, sitting next to you as you tug the rest of the blanket over his shoulders. You can feel how tense he is, how unsure he is being so close to you, and you smile slightly, reaching forward to grab the book you had been reading before he woke you, and handing it to him.

“Here, you can read this to me while I go back to my nap.”

His body relaxes as he settles the book in his lap. “Serpent symbolism throughout history and mythology,” he muses, flicking through the first few pages. “Why snakes?”

“I always liked snakes,” you say, watching him carefully thumb his way through the book. He always took such care with books, took care with everything, treated the world like it was delicate. “And they’re always seen in a negative light. If someone betrays you, they’re called a snake. In the Garden of Eden it is believed the devil took the form of a snake to trick Eve. Even in Harry Potter, the so-called ‘evil’ house has a snake for its symbol. But it seems that it is mainly modern, western culture that villainises snakes. In many other cultures they are seen as symbols of intelligence, of healing, even fertility in some cases—”

He’s staring at you. Watching you intently as you speak. You’re not even sure how long the two of you had been sitting like this, the book lying open in his lap as he gazes at you, and now you find yourself staring back at him, silent. Studying his warm eyes, like pools of melted chocolate, bright as he looks at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world. His mouth slightly open, you can see the tip of his tongue. His breathing steady, but deep, controlled. You meet his eyes again. “Steven?”

He blinks, his eyes focussing, and coughed, as if only just realising he had been staring at you. His throat bobs as he licks his dry lips.

“Where- whereabouts were you up to?” he stumbles, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

You feel his body stiffen again as you reach your arm over him, turning a few pages of the book before tapping the section you had been trying to read before you nodded off.

“’Ouroboros,’” he reads. “’The classic symbol of Ouroboros, depicted as a serpent, or snake, forming a ring as it devours its own tail, has many interpretations, the most famous being as a symbol of the cyclical nature of life and death, of life feeding on itself in the act of creation, of rebirth.’”

The lids of your eyes fall closed as Steven reads to you, and you barely register the words he says, focussing instead on his voice, the soft way in which he speaks. A wave of exhaustion hits as you let your head fall against his arm.

Noticing you begin to fall asleep, Steven pauses his reading, takes a deep breath, before sliding his arm out from under your head and moving it to hug your shoulders. He lets his back slide down the wall you’re both leaning against, so he can pull you slightly closer to him, so you can rest your head in the crook of his shoulder.

You smile softly, leaning into him, leaning into his soft sweater, leaning into his warm, safe scent. “Keep reading.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he continues reading to you. That awkward, adorable smile.

It’s the last thing you picture as you fall asleep.

  And it’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #fluff #steven grant one shot #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #steven grant fluff #one shot #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #steven grant my beloved #no cos i love this man with my whole being i would do anything for steven he deserves the world