#I got to this scene a few days ago and I keep meaning to make this post

[hollenka99]

What I thought Bad Touch was going to be: Siffrin is going to finally grow comfortable enough to be touched more and he's going to finally tell Isa that it's cool to touch his shoulder. It will be a really nice bonding moment between them. I can't wait to reach this part of the game :D

Bad Touch:

Me: D:

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter eight

⭐︎ Dead-eyed. Dead weight.

Warnings: angst, angst, angst. hurt/comfort. sickness. mentions of death. post apocalypse au. grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Something happens that had none of you prepared and the fear of loss creeps up on your group... once again.

Word count: 8.5k

Author's note: Please read !! @hellfire--cult helps with allllll my chapters, we planned this story together, from start to finish. A lot of the things that happen here, are her ideas and I just write them. She not only brainstormed with me, she also writes with me and by that I mean, she writes a lot of scenes, like in the last chapter for example, there is a huge portion that was written by Roe, not by me. So please keep in mind that she is behind this story as well, don't forget her! Give her the love and the credit she deserves ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

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It started off with a sneeze the night before and a scratchy feeling in your throat before the nausea took over. It then progressed into a painful cough accompanied by a headache. You knew it would happen the moment uncomfortable shivers started running down your body but you tried to blame it on the cold weather, at first at least. You knew it wasn’t the cold. It was the rain you and Steve got caught in two nights ago. 

Anxiety took over the second it dawned on you that a fever was rising up. You took some of the vitamin pills you found, hoping that they would help. They didn’t, of course. 

You are freezing, shaking terribly even after putting on a thicker sweater under your leather jacket. Your nose is starting to feel stuffy causing your head to hurt even more. Your hands are cold and shivering. Your head pounds a little harder each time Nancy hits a bump on the road. So far, you were good at hiding the state you were in until now – until it really started kicking in and you put your hand to your head after a particular big bump on the road. A wince falls from your lips and Steve, who sits across from you with a book in his hand, instantly looks up at you, alarmed and worried when he notices the pained look on your face. 

He lowers the book he is holding and places it on the bench he is sitting on. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices sweat coating your forehead and the trembling in your hand… the trembling in your whole body as his eyes scan you from head to toe. 

“Sunshine?” 

You don’t react. You place your palm against your forehead and lean back, clearing your throat before you break into a fit of coughs. Dry Coughs. 

Oh no.

Steve gets up and nearly crashes to his knees as he crouches down before you. He places a comforting hand on your calf as he speaks your name softly, not noticing how the RV has slowed down and how Nancy and Eddie share worried looks. 

“Are you okay?”

You sniffle quietly and push yourself up so you can straighten your back. You clear your sore throat and lick your lips that feel dryer than usual. You look down at him, noting the worry in his hazel eyes. 

You open your mouth but don’t even manage to utter a word before he cuts you off. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he warns as he glares into your eyes, making you cower back slightly.  

Nancy rushes into the back the moment she parks the RV on the side of the road. There is a deep line between her eyebrows and a frown sinking into her features as she halts beside Steve. She reaches her hand out to you and touches your forehead with the back of her hand. 

Steve looks up at her and sees the way her eyes widen. 

“You are burning up!” 

She already knew you weren’t feeling good, but she hoped that it was just a little cold and that it would pass in a few days after some rest, but instead, it got progressively worse over the past couple of hours. 

“Oh shit,” Eddie mumbles, bringing his hand up to his face. 

Steve and Nancy share a look, one filled with anxiety. And you don’t want that, you don’t want them to worry. You will be alright. You just need to rest. 

“I’m–” cut off by another painful cough. You shut your eyes as you cover your mouth and turn in the other direction, not wanting to get them sick as well. You blink back the tears that make their way into your eyes and take a few deep breaths before you look back at them. “I-I’ll be okay, just feeling a little under the weather.” 

“You’re not feeling under the weather, you are sick! Which isn’t a surprise at all considering you were running around in the cold fucking rain!” Nancy raises her voice as she glares at both you and Steve. “And we don’t have anything to treat you–”

“It’s just a cold, Nancy…” You reply weakly as you tug your jacket tighter around you. Sharing a look with Steve, you instantly look down again, not bearing to look into his eyes. “It’s gonna pass in a few days…” 

It didn’t. 

It didn’t pass. 

It kept getting worse. 

Worse and worse. 

Two days later, your whole body was aching. Your muscles were sore and your throat was dry. Coughing hurt, and your head was pounding. You tried to hold yourself together, to keep your head high and your back straight, to pretend to be okay so they didn’t have to worry but when the weakness hit, your eyes turned glassy and your lips blue, they could see that you were getting worse and there was no hiding that anymore. You couldn’t even if you tried, not after this morning, not after you nearly collapsed trying to get a glass of water. Luckily, Eddie was there to catch you.

Eddie and Nancy were worried, that was obvious. You were unaware of the fear in Steve’s eyes though, even now as he crouches down before you, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. 

He frowns deeply as he stares at you. Your blue lips are trembling, your eyes keep falling shut even when you try to keep them open. You are burning up and he knows that your fever is getting higher and higher. There is a light whistle in your throat as you keep taking deep breaths, struggling to do so. 

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He feels the bile rising up in his throat, nausea sinking in more and more after coming back empty-handed from his run into the nearest town. The pharmacy was empty, completely wiped clean. He couldn’t even find painkillers. 

It was the second pharmacy he tried his luck in. 

He was gone for two hours, and your state got worse in the meantime. 

Eddie is sitting on the bench, biting his fingernails as he stares at you. He’s not moving, he is just sitting there, watching you wide-eyed… like you had already left. 

Nancy is pacing back and forth with the map in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed strongly, her blue eyes showing nothing but stress. 

“Sunshine?” Steve whispers, brushing away the hair in your face. He winces at the hotness of your skin, he can’t imagine how bad you must be feeling right now. He moves his hands down to your blanket and brings it up higher, rubbing your arm over it. 

“Hmm?” You open your eyes and squint them when your vision blurs, and he appears twice before you. 

He places his hand on your forehead, cupping it. 

“How bad are you feeling right now?”

You’re not in control of your body, it’s too weak. You can’t push yourself up and convince him that you are feeling fine, not even if you tried. You can imagine what you look like right now. 

You clear your throat only to wince in pain at the soreness in you. 

“I’m… still hanging on.” Your voice is hoarse. Barely. You are barely holding on. You’re in and out of sleep, your body is feeling weaker as the hours go by, and you are not sure how much longer you can go without medicine. “Still hanging on, Stevie.” 

Your hand falls to his wrist, and he nearly flinches at the coldness of it. The sickness is spreading, claiming you entirely. It all happened too quickly. It happened in the blink of an eye. 

Your touch is usually so warm, now it’s icy cold. The look in your eyes is always filled with happiness; now it’s… it’s pained yet empty. Your energy, usually so contagious, is now barely there, gone… dead. 

The sickening realization begins to sink in the longer he looks at you. 

You came into his life so suddenly. You came out of nowhere. You stepped into it and shone a bright light into his greying life. He was wilting, like all the flowers in this world, until you came along and gave him what he needed; the sun. Only recently did he begin to see the good in things, even out here in this wasteland. He was trying to see the good. He was trying to look forward to things. He was trying to live. 

But now with you falling sick, he is already beginning to lose that part of himself once again. 

Will he lose you suddenly too? 

This is why he didn’t want to let you in. 

He let you in just to lose you again. 

He can’t let that happen, not again. 

“Keep hanging on for me, okay?” He whispers, shaking you a little. There is desperation in his voice and also in his eyes. 

Your mouth twitches, lips curling into a smile. You squeeze his wrist, even if weakly. 

“Always.” You whisper. 

Steve tries to smile, but it barely comes out as such. 

“Promise?” He leans closer, missing the warmth of you. 

You nod and hum softly. 

“Promise, Stevie.” 

He blinks a few times. The beating of his heart changes, becoming intense the longer he thinks about what will happen if he doesn’t find medicine in time. His chest starts to ache more and more. 

He won’t bear it. He won’t. 

“You will be okay,” he assures you, taking your hand into his own, he gives it a tight squeeze. “You hear me? I’m gonna get you some antibiotics and you will be okay again, sunshine.” 

Your eyelashes flutter as you look into his hazel eyes. Even through your haze, you can now see the worry in them, the fear. The fear of having to bury someone else. 

You take a deep breath and lick your lips. You rub your thumb against his knuckles, admiring the softness in his features. 

“Is that… worry I see on your face, Cowboy?” You manage to ask, chuckling softly. 

Eddie smiles behind Steve, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He is worried, just as worried as Steve is. 

“Get some more sleep, okay?” Steve whispers as he adjusts the pillow beneath your head. 

Nancy takes another look at you. Not a single word falls from her lips, but her eyes say it all. She doesn’t want to lose another friend. She turns away and walks back to the driver's seat. She sits down and stares at the road with a blank look on her face. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to mend the fear that is building up in her. 

She looks into the rearview mirror, watching how Steve refuses to leave your side, even after tucking you in already. His body is tense, she can see it in his back and his shoulders. 

He cares about you. He is afraid to lose you – even if he won’t admit it out loud. 

She looks down at the map in the passenger seat, she grabs it and unfolds it. She goes over the areas you have marked up as safe. Steve had already gone through two of those towns and he came back empty handed. There is another that hasn’t been checked out yet, about ten miles down the road. 

She doubts that the pharmacy will be any different there. 

What worries her is the areas that have been marked as unsafe – the red areas. The big towns and the cities that are crawling with infected. She has a hunch that that is where they can find the medicine that you need, that is where they will have some sort of luck but it’s dangerous. Very dangerous. 

Even with her hunch, there is no guarantee that there will be any antibiotics or painkillers and even if, the chance to come back alive from a place crawling with the dead is zero to one. 

She looks back at Steve once more, she knows that he will want to try, she knows that he will try. 

But how will she let him, knowing that he will walk right into his death. 

She can’t lose you. She can’t lose him either. 

She can’t lose the both of you. 

So she hopes, she really hopes that the next safest town is where luck will be on your side. 

Eddie plops down in the passenger seat with a sigh. He turns to look at her, sharing the worry that is painted into her eyes. Nothing has to be said. They both feel the same thing. They both feel fear. They don’t want to experience another loss. They don’t want to feel the loss of you. 

Eddie takes the map from Nancy’s hands. He squints his eyes as he looks down at it, at the next destination. Another small town. 

Nancy can see the doubtful look on his face and the uncertainty in his eyes. She feels the same. 

“It’s worth a try.” She whispers, shrugging as she starts the RV. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he sinks into his seat. “What if it turns out to be just like all the towns before though?” 

She shrugs but she knows the answer to that. She knows where to look. But she isn’t ready for that. She looks into the rearview mirror one more time, watching as Steve settles into the seat closest to you. There is worry in his features but there is also something else now. Determination. 

She breathes out shakily and holds the steering wheel tightly as she presses her foot onto the gas pedal. 

“I don’t know.”

-

Just like Nancy had suspected, Steve and Eddie came back empty handed after yet another unsuccessful run into a town. Two days have passed since then and your condition only worsened. 

She had tried her best to treat you with herbs, making you soup and tea. Keeping you warm with blankets and making sure that the RV wasn’t cold at any time. Though nothing was helping. 

Steve’s state wasn’t great either. He slept less than usual, ate less and was mostly on his feet when not in the RV. He was searching and searching. But the longer he went without finding you the things that you need, the more he grew sick with worry but also with anger. 

And it is showing now especially. 

The anger has taken hold of him completely. Disbelief and pure rage lingers in his usual hazel eyes, now they are dark with fury. 

Eddie stands beside Nancy, though he isn’t looking at the map spread on the hood of the RV or between them. He is busy looking down at the city before them. Red lightning curses over it, thunder rumbles in the sky and the earth beneath his feet shakes every few minutes. Chills run down his back. Red lightning is never a good sign. It means the affected city or town is infested with something, crawling with the dead. 

It’s unsafe. 

“We can’t go out there.” Nancy states, keeping her arms crossed. And it makes sense, it is stupid to go out there, dangerous. 

She knows there is no point in arguing with him. But she can’t let him do this. 

“This place is crawling with infected, with monsters and whatnot!” She snaps at him after a long moment of staring into his glaring eyes. “Look at it, Steve! Open your goddamn eyes!” 

With his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, he glares at her. 

“My eyes are open, Nance. Are yours?” He snaps back, feeling the anger rush through his veins. “I don’t care what this place is crawling with, I don’t care what’s out there. I care about what’s in there!” He almost yells as he points at the closed door of the RV. “She’s sick and she is not getting any better. She won’t get better. She is barely hanging on!” 

Nancy clenches her jaw, faltering a little. 

He is right. 

You won’t get better, not without antibiotics. She is not a doctor and she doesn’t know for sure but given the fact that you got caught in the rain and spent all night stuck in a cold car, it has to be pneumonia. Your symptoms align with the sickness. And she remembers what Mike looked like when he had it a few years back, at least until he got the medicine that he needed. 

“How much longer does she have, huh?” Steve throws his hands up. He feels grateful that it’s anger leading his emotions now and not something else. 

Nancy turns away from him, closing her eyes, she pinches the bridge of her nose. Frustration bubbles up inside of her but also fear of what will happen in the next few days or even in the next few hours if you don’t get the help that you need. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie mumbles, putting his hands up. He shakes his head at Steve. “Don’t.”

Steve scoffs as he turns to face him now. “Don’t what? Don’t speak the truth? You know I’m right, Munson. You know we have no other choice but to make that run. You don’t wanna go with me? Fine. I get it. But I am going–”

“No, you are not!” Nancy points her finger at him as she turns back around. “You are not making that run! It’s a death sentence! What good will it do to go in there?” She asks, pointing into the direction of the city. “You are not coming back. How is that gonna change anything?” 

Steve can’t believe what he is hearing, what he is seeing when he takes a look at Eddie. He looks uncertain, like he is agreeing with her. 

Disappointment fills his heart as he looks at his friends. 

“I survived Starcourt, I survived the upside down, I survived this world. What makes you think that I’m not capable of coming back alive from this?” 

He doesn’t care how he will do it, if he will have to fight his way through monsters or a hoard of infected. He doesn’t care if he will have to look all day if it means saving you. 

He feels responsible for what happened. He keeps telling himself that this could have been prevented. If he just set up camp like he planned to do, none of this would have happened. 

Seeing you like this now pains him and it reminds him of why he didn’t want to let you in, in the first place. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to like you. He didn’t want to have to worry again. The moment he started doing so, you were already tainted by his bad luck. You were already just another loss in his life. You were another temporary thing. 

But he can’t let that happen. He can’t lose you. Not now. 

They stay quiet. Both of them. It only fills him with an even deeper disappointment. 

“I can’t believe you… You cared so much back in Hawkins. What happened to that?” 

Eddie lifts his head, his eyebrows furrow in anger, his eyes flash with it too while Nancy looks down with a guilt ridden look on her face. 

“I care, alright? I care but Nancy is right, this out there… is a death sentence! We are walking straight into it and we might not come back!”

“We can fucking try!” Steve yells, not caring about keeping his volume down any longer. “I will try, I don’t give a damn about what you will do but I’m trying–”

“Don’t fight…” Your weak voice cuts in and Steve’s head instantly snaps towards you. You’re standing leaned against the doorway to the RV. A thin blanket is wrapped around your shoulders. Your hair is hanging loosely down your shoulders, no sign of a braid there like usual. You look worse than before. Your skin is losing its color. Your eyes look dull. Your face looks thinner. You look even sicker out here in the daylight. And it makes his chest ache terribly. “Don’t fight because of me.” 

You make your way down the steps on shaky and weak legs. 

Eddie holds his hand up towards you and Nancy uncrosses her arms as she eyes you worriedly. Steve instantly takes a step forward, already holding his hands up just in case. 

A cough breaks out of your mouth, causing your entire body to jolt in pain. You hold your hand up to your lips and clutch your stomach. Before you can even try to catch yourself, your knees buckle and you lose balance, nearing the ground as you fall. 

“Whoa!” Steve mumbles loudly as he reaches his arms out to you, sweeping them under your armpits and catching you before the fall. He lifts you up and hugs you to his chest. “You’re supposed to be in bed.” He grumbles into your ear. 

You sniffle, blinking away the tears that build up in your sensitive eyes. You can’t find it in yourself to fight him, to step away and stand on your own feet. You are weak. You hate it. 

“I don’t want you to fight because of me.” You repeat in desperation, lifting your head and looking up at him with your glassy eyes. 

This is why he didn’t want to care again. 

This hurts. 

The worry. The fear. The pain that takes over his heart from seeing you suffer. 

Your body feels weak against him. Your eyes are so… lifeless. He can’t bear it. He can’t. 

“Come on,” he whispers as he begins to lead you back into the RV. He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you tightly, helping you up the stairs. “Let’s get you back inside.” 

You comply but not without looking back at Nancy and Eddie one more time. You part your lips, wanting to say something but no words come from your mouth when you see the way they look at you. Like they are worried, like they are sick with fear, like they are already grieving. 

You blink. 

Even through the haze in your mind, you realize the look on their faces. They care. They care because you mean something to them. Because you are not only their companion now but also a friend. 

The tears that welled up in your eyes before were from physical pain, the ones now are emotional. For the first time in your life, you found people who see you as a friend. An actual friend. Not someone to use and toss away when you are no longer needed. They see you as their friend just like you see them too.

And of course you had to find them during the end of the world, getting closer and closer to them in the process, only to fall sick. It’s only a matter of time until you close your eyes for the last time. You can feel it. You can feel the sickness claiming you whole. You can feel death creeping up on you. This is just your luck. 

Steve leads you back to your bed and helps you back down. He grabs your legs gently and puts them on the mattress carefully before he tucks you in, making sure the pillow is comfortable and soft beneath your head. 

Even he started caring. Even he became your friend. 

You look at his face, at his features that were always so covered in anger and defensiveness when you first met him. Now they are soft. His hazel eyes are filled with sadness and it doesn’t help your case at all. 

A tear slips from your eyes and down your cheek. You try to lift your hand to wipe it away before he sees it but you are too slow. 

His eyebrows knit together and he places his hand on your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong? Did it get worse…? Are you–”

“I’m weighing you guys down,” you whisper, shakily. Your lips curl downwards as tears start falling freely. “Y-You were right. I am a nuisance. Now I am one.”

Anger bubbles up inside of him but also guilt for ever saying something like that about you. 

He shakes his head, squeezing your shoulder softly as he brings his other hand up to your cheek, wiping away the tears. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he glares at you. 

Your bottom lip wobbles and your chest heaves as you try to breathe. You clutch your blanket tightly. 

“It’s the truth… You already slowed down because of me and made unnecessary runs–”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done it too.”

You would. Of course you would. You would do anything for them. For him. 

You swallow and the scratchiness, the dryness in your throat makes you wince and causing more tears to build up in your eyes. You close them and try to take deep breaths. 

Whatever he is saying, you know that you are right. You are weighing them down and they – he is taking unnecessary risks just to help you. You will never forgive yourself if something happens to him while he is trying to save you. 

“Leave–” You pause when your voice cracks. You try to keep your composure, to keep breathing, to stop crying. You open your eyes again and look at him. “Leave me in the nearest house, I’ll be okay…”

Steve looks at you as though you had gone crazy. His eyes flash with disbelief as anger rushes through him. How dare you make him care only to give up so easily now? 

“We are not doing that.” It’s not his voice that sounds through the RV, it’s Eddie’s. He is looking at you just like Steve is, though with less anger and with more sadness.

Steve is starting to breathe heavily as the seriousness of this whole situation sinks in more and more. His heart beats a little faster. Desperation clings to him. 

“You have to… You are going off the main road for me,” you say with a heavy voice, looking between Eddie and Nancy, who now stands in the doorway too, shaking her head in disapproval. 

Steve pushes himself up, getting back on his feet. He runs his fingers through his hair and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to think, to think of a solution. 

Nancy pushes past him and kneels down before you. Her blue eyes are troubled, filled with emotions you can’t all read. She brings her hand up to your forehead, cupping it gently. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.

Steve looks down at you as he paces around. He can read you so well. You, you are usually so hopeful. Filled with life and the will to live and fight your way through this world. You are now ready to give up, to find a place to die. 

This is not what you want. This was never something that you wanted. This had always been something you were afraid of, you told him that before. You were afraid to die alone. You were afraid to lose your life before finding your way back home and seeing your family. 

Now you are right where you never wanted to be. 

“It does– My house, my address, it’s on my ID… so if you head there, tell my parents–”

“Shut up!” He yells, exploding. He can’t do this. He can’t listen to you talk like this. He can’t watch you giving up. 

You flinch a little, staring wide eyed at him but with eyes still glassy like before. Nancy looks down while Eddie eyes him, scanning his face and the look in his eyes. 

Steve clenches his jaw, pointing his finger at you as he breathes heavily. 

“I– We are not leaving you!” He snaps at you, holding back his own tears. “Get that through that thick head of yours. We are not leaving you.” 

He gives you another pointed look before he snatches the map out of Eddie’s hand and makes his way over to the driver’s seat, where neither Eddie nor Nancy can see him. He plops down and opens the map but his breathing is so heavy and his eyes burn so hotly that he can’t focus on it. 

He leans back and closes his eyes, he swallows the lump in his throat. This moment reminds him of what he lost. This reminds him of what could have been if he just handled in time. This feels like he is living through it all once again and it kills him.

He made mistakes before. He won’t do them again. He won’t experience another loss. He won’t let anything take away from him again. 

Never again.

-

It’s silent and peaceful. The RV has never been quieter than this. It’s dark inside, except for the small candle burning on the table he is sitting at. The fire outside where Nancy and Eddie sit around, isn’t large enough to shine through the windows. They had to keep it low to avoid unwanted attention from the city nearby. Monsters and infected probably don’t come out this far, but it’s always better to be safe. 

He is staring at his backpack, at the nailed bat that has accompanied him for years now. He is tapping his finger against the counter, fighting an inner battle as his eyes flicker back and forth between you, his backpack and the red lightning in the distance. 

He knows what he has to do. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

He leans his body in your direction, squinting his eyes as he looks at you, trying to see better in the darkness. 

His heart leaps a little the longer he watches you. You aren’t moving. At all. Your chest isn’t rising up and down anymore. It looks like you stopped… breathing. 

“No…” He whispers as he gets back on his feet, swallowing the growing nausea as he looks at your pale face. He feels like throwing up already, his heart is racing in his chest as he crouches down before you. He whispers your name, once… twice… 

“Sunshine?” Steve whispers shakily as he brings his hand up to your face. 

“Still here…” You manage to croak out. Your lashes flutter when you open your eyes as best as you can. 

His head hangs low for a moment as his eyes close and he takes a deep breath. His hand moves down to your wrist and then to your hand, he holds it softly. 

Thank god. 

“I’m still here, Cowboy.” You whisper before your eyes fall shut again and sleep begins to lull you back in again. 

Still. You are still here. 

He knows what he has to do. He knows what he will do. 

He tilts his head up again, watching how you take slow and weak breaths. But you are still here. 

He is determined, desperate. He moves closer to you, running his fingers through your hair, he tucks it away and out of your face. He caresses your cheek, feeling his heart long, feeling it ache for something else entirely – though he pushes it aside… for now… or for always. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Sunshine. I promise. You hear me?” 

You only hum in response. 

“Just hang on for me, okay? Hang on.” Steve whispers as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it. A kiss you barely feel. A kiss you will forget. 

He gets back up and puts his jacket on, no longer caring about Eddie’s and Nancy’s plans. Time is running out. Time that you don’t have. He won’t sit here and watch you wilt. He won’t sit here while you die. He won’t let that happen. Never again. So he grabs his backpack and Nancy’s rifle that she left inside the RV after swapping it for your gun. 

He looks through the blinds on the window, making sure that neither of them will come in when he slips out but they seem to be in a deep conversation. They won’t notice. 

Steve turns around to face you one more time. His soft eyes stay on you for a second. His heart pounds in his chest, his body fills with adrenaline at what he is about to do. 

You will be okay. He will make sure of that. 

He will fix this again. 

“I’ll be back soon, Sunshine.” He promises and he prays to whatever is above to protect you, to make you hold on a little longer. He wishes he had something to keep you safe with. 

Steve falters in his step when he remembers the hair tie around his wrist. He looks down at it, at the lilac colored hair tie that belonged to his best friend. It’s old. Back from the Family Video days. Robin always forgot to grab extra hair ties or clips and would then complain about her hair getting into her face and being unable to tie it back. At one point he bought a package of hair ties and would put one around his wrist until it needed to be used. The lilac one was her favorite. 

He traces it before he takes it off his wrist. He tiptoes back to you and he picks up your wrist gently, placing the hair tie around it. He holds your wrist for a moment, tapping it softly. 

He never believed in things like this, but maybe it’s a good idea to start now. 

“Keep her safe for me,” he whispers to her.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly before he turns around and slips away from you and out of the RV. 

-

The wood in the fire crackles, the wind blows through the trees around the place they set up camp in. The red lightning in the distance isn’t close enough to illuminate the sky above them but it keeps flashing in their peripheral vision. 

Eddie is staring into the fire. He is quiet unlike usual. 

Nancy doesn’t mind the silence but it feels odd not to hear his voice. She feels the tension radiating off him. She feels it herself. 

A stack of books lies on the grass beside her feet. Books about herbs, about natural remedies for sicknesses. But everything she tried helping you with was to no avail. Not the eucalyptus teas nor the peppermint. You need antibiotics and fever reducers. Steve is right. 

“I was thinking…” Eddie finally speaks up after hours of silence between them. Since they sat down to do night watch, they haven’t talked at all. Nancy was too immersed in reading the books beside her while Eddie had scanned the map over and over, and tried to come up with a plan. 

Nancy looks up from the book, cocking her eyebrow in question. 

He straightens in his seat, pressing his hands together as he leans forward, not looking away from the fire yet. 

“I’m making the run into the city come morning,” he states, determined. “Those books won’t help,” he points at the ones she has read through already. “And we can’t rely on the smaller towns ahead of us.”

She opens her mouth to speak but Eddie holds his hand up at her and finally looks into her eyes. 

“Small towns are usually safe, they’re not crawling with infected or monsters as much as big cities are. People like us, survivors go for places like these. They avoid that,” he mumbles,  pointing his thumb into the direction where the city lies. “It’s crawling with fucking everything, so people won’t even try to get in there, which means we have the best chance at finding stuff there. Everything that she needs, antibiotics, pain killers, fever reducers.”

Nancy’s shoulders slump. Her eyebrows knit together as she looks at the RV. 

He is right, just like Steve is. 

He is right and she knows it's what needs to be done. 

She nods slowly, closing the book in her hand, she throws it on the ground. Leaning back into her camping chair, she looks into the fire. 

“Okay,” Nancy whispers, accepting the danger he is about to face. She is about to face. She won’t let you die.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, tilting his head down a little as his brown eyes scan her face. 

She nods again and looks up at him. 

“Yeah, but I’m going with you.” 

He doesn’t protest. He works best with her. 

“In and out, easy… right?” Eddie chuckles, though his heart skips a nervous beat. 

Her lip twitches, curling into a small smile as she looks at the guy who became her closest friend. Her best friend. 

“Easy.” 

He takes a deep breath and nods to himself. He looks up at the sky. 

“Sun is gonna rise soon,” he comments as he looks at the faint light behind the clouds. 

“Yeah.” 

He gets up with a sigh, “I’m gonna go tell Steve.” 

“Alright.” Nancy gives him a tight lipped smile. 

He turns around and starts making his way towards the stairs of the RV. He reaches his hand out to grab the handle. One step closer and he halts in his tracks when the sound of rustling makes him freeze. 

A cold shudder runs down his spine when he turns back around. His eyes instantly lock with Nancy’s. Her blue eyes are troubled and she instantly pushes herself up, grabbing your gun from her belt. 

“Whoa,” Eddie whispers, making his way back to her side after he grabs the axe he left on the ground. 

“Could be an animal,” Nancy murmurs as she scans the area. She ignores the beating of her heart. 

She parked the RV right next to a big forest, making sure that it was hidden behind trees and bushes, now it doesn’t seem to be the best idea as she looks around trying to spot the culprit who caused the noises. 

Eddie squints his eyes, grabbing the handle of the axe tighter as he steps in front of her. 

“It better be.” He mumbles nervously. He doesn’t want to get caught by an infected or a demo– something. 

He feels his heart in his throat when he sees the figure descending out from behind the bushes, pushing its way out onto the field and in his and Nancy’s direction. 

“Fuck…” 

Nancy swallows. She clicks the safety off on the gun and brings it up a little, not aiming yet. 

“Infected or Human?” 

Eddie shrugs as he scans the way the figure carries themselves, the steps and the posture. 

“What’s worse?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at her. 

Nancy lifts one shoulder as she straightens her back, ready to take the shot if needed. 

“You do know that if we shoot, everything that might be around will get drawn in by the noise…”

“I know,” Nancy sighs, cursing inwardly for not looking for silencers before. “It’s not an infected… it’s–”

“Put the gun down, Nance.” 

“Steve!?” Eddie and Nancy gasp in unison. 

He speeds up his movements once Nancy holsters her gun again and Eddie drops the axe. They don’t even manage to take in the sight of him, to take in the state he is in. He brushes past them so quickly, heading into the RV like he can’t waste a single second to get to you. His backpack is clinking loudly. He throws open the door and rushes in. 

Eddie’s confused face meets Nancy’s, they share a look before they follow him inside. 

They both notice how fast and loudly he is breathing as he sets the rifle down, leaning it against the wall. He hurries into the back of the RV, throwing off his backpack carefully as he sets it down on the ground beside the bed you are lying in. 

Steve drops to his knees before you, not even giving that moment to himself to breathe, to calm down. He spent hours feeling on edge, worrying about you, worrying about making it out alive. And he ran, he ran all the way from the city to here, not stopping for a second, not stopping to catch his breath or look back to make sure that nothing was following. He just needed to get to you. That’s all that mattered to him, he didn’t care about anything else. 

He places his hand on your shoulder, shaking you softly. 

“Sunshine?” He whispers as he brings his other hand up to your cheek, tapping it gently. “You with me?” 

A grumble falls from your mouth. You shift on the bed as you wake up slowly. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink, opening your eyes after a few seconds. 

Steve’s shoulders slump in relief, and he breathes out a loud sigh. He closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath before he opens his eyes again and gets into action. He grabs his backpack and zips it open, taking out the medicine he found inside of a hospital. 

Nancy stares at him, watching as he takes out one bottle after another.

“What–”

“You went out there by yourself?” Eddie snaps at him. 

And if you weren’t so weak and delirious, you would have been surprised at the anger in his tone and in his eyes. 

Steve ignores them both. He ignores everything, even the injuries he came back with. He clenches his jaw. Taking out the antibiotics and the tylenol, he drops them on the bedside table before he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and wash his hands before giving you the medicine. 

He doesn’t even spare them a look. 

“Are you crazy, Steve?” Nancy asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she inspects the dirt on his face, the blood dripping from the fresh wound on his cheek and one over his eyebrow. 

“You could have died, man!” Eddie throws his hands up, glaring at his friend who glares back at him. 

“She could have fucking died!” Steve yells, throwing his finger into your direction. He blinks in anger as he makes his way back to you. A huff falls from his lips, angry at his friends still. 

He is tired and exhausted from hiding and running all night, from having to crawl on the ground to stay hidden from monsters and infected. A few infected still managed to creep up on him, and two or three demobats caused the wounds on his face. But he is fine. He is fine now. 

They both fall quiet behind him, watching how he tends to you. 

He places the glass on the table and leans down, scooping his arm under your back, “c’mon, you need to get up for a second.”

You don’t protest, but you are weak, and you would not be able to get back up by yourself. You squint your eyes as you look at him. Your mind is still in a haze and everything is confusing to you at this moment but you see the dirt and the blood on his face. The messy hair and the exhausted look in his features. 

“What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispers. 

Steve grabs the antibiotics, taking out a pill. He places it into the palm of your hand, “here, take it.” He mumbles and reaches for the glass of water. 

He helps you bring your hand up to your lips, you put the pill in your mouth and take a sip of the water he holds out to you, swallowing it. You repeat the motion when he hands you one of the painkillers. 

He watches you carefully. Wiping away the drop of water that runs down your chin and tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly when you pull away from him, eyes dropping from the tiredness again. 

Steve’s eyes soften when you try to smile at him, even now, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“Anytime, honey.” He promises. The nickname falling from his lips so naturally. 

He helps you back down and tucks you in again, just like he did before, just like he did all the days leading up to this moment. His eyes fall on the hair tie. He leaves it there. 

Nancy and Eddie look at each other, their anger fleeting away more and more. Relief filling them instead but also still fear… for him now too. 

“There’s… I got a bunch of stuff,” Steve explains as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Nance, can you place an IV for her? I got one of those bags but I don’t know how–”

She nods, “yeah… yeah, of course. But your wounds need–”

“I’m fine. Just a cut…” He murmurs tiredly as he gets up, walking away and towards the couch. 

Eddie huffs at his friend when he brushes past him. He can’t help but slap him over his head. 

Steve flinches, squinting his eyes at him.

“For being a moron,” Eddie glares. “I would have gone with you, man.”

Steve shakes his head, scoffing softly as he plops down on the couch. He grunts in pain when he takes off his jacket, throwing it on the ground. His eyes start dropping suddenly as the tiredness hits fully. 

“I was sneaky… stealthy like a ninja.” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at the comment that reminds him of who he once used to be. 

“Didn’t even have to kill a thing… and now… I will sit here and I will see if she…” he slurs, eyes falling shut slowly. He mumbles your name before he passes out completely. 

Eddie stares at him for a moment, noticing the cut on his arm and the blood dripping down from the wound. 

“Stealthy like a ninja my ass,” Eddie snorts. He takes his own jacket off and pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows, ready to tend to his wounds. 

-

His muscles are sore, aching in every spot in his body but his arms and legs especially. The cut on his arm strains against his skin, making him wince in pain when he stretches both arms out. A grunt leaves his lips as he peaks his eyes open when the sunlight hits his face. 

He draws back in confusion when he looks down at the sheets covering his body, at the big window next to the bed. There isn’t one behind the couch. This isn’t where he fell asleep last night. 

Steve presses his palms against the sheets beneath him, he pushes himself up and turns his head. His eyes widen in surprise when he finds you next to him, sitting up and looking right at him. A weak smile gracing your lips. 

It takes him a moment to move. The words get caught in his throat when his heart skips a beat. The golden light of the sun kisses your face so softly, bringing out all the specks of colors in your eyes and the undertone in your hair that frames your face so prettily right now. You rarely wear it open, it’s always in one or two braids. He likes it like this. A lot. 

You look so much better than the night before. The circles under your eyes are still there but your face has taken on a little color again and you can sit up straight once more. 

“Hey…” Your whisper pulls him out of his stupor. He blinks a few times before he finally pushes himself up, reaching his arm out to you, he notices the bandage around his bicep and he realizes that Eddie must have taken care of his wounds before he carried him over to the bed to sleep next to you. 

Heat creeps up to his cheeks and he blushes a little. 

“A-Are you okay?” He whispers, placing his hand on your back. “Shit… what time is it?” He looks down at his watch, needing to make sure that you get your dose of medicine every eight hours. 

You take his hand, filling him with even more relief when he feels the warmth in it again. 

“I’m better.” 

Steve looks away from his wrist and back up at you. Hazel eyes shining with hope. 

“Yeah?” He leans closer, keeping his hand on you. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and nod, blinking as your eyes grow sensitive. 

“Mhmm.”

You woke up confused this morning. Your body felt sore, and your throat still ached but you felt better, so much better. You didn’t understand why at first, not until you noticed him lying next to you, facing you. You remembered then what had happened the night before. How he gave you the medicine, how dirty he was, how wounded he was. 

He went out there for you. He went into the city to get you medicine, to save you. 

Steve risked his life for you. 

Steve who seemed so cold at first. Steve who didn’t want you around at first. Steve who you thought didn’t care about you. 

No one ever did that for you. No one ever cared enough to even do the littlest thing for you. 

But he went out there, knowing that he could have died trying to save you. 

It tugs at your heartstrings to know that he cares about you enough to do this. It warms your chest. It makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe. 

Steve creeps into your heart more and more every day and you can no longer lie to yourself or deny the feelings that grow for him. 

You eye the mess on his head, the wild hair. The tiredness in his eyes. The wound he caught for you. You lift your hand up to his cheek, tracing his skin with your finger. 

His lips curl upwards, his eyes flicker with something you can’t read. 

You lean closer to him and close your eyes. You press your lips against his shoulder, giving it a soft peck. 

“Thank you,” you whisper and look up at him. 

Steve can see what flashes in your eyes. He knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling and it makes his heart ache. 

He would do it again. Again and again. 

No words leave his mouth but his actions speak louder. He wraps his arms around you and he pulls you into his embrace, hugging you softly. 

You accept the hug instantly, grabbing his shirt, you press your cheek against his chest and let yourself fall into him and it doesn’t take you a minute, not even a second to understand why it feels so warm, why it feels so right. 

This is more than just attraction. 

This is more than what you thought it was. 

And it scares you. 

But you are not the only one scared, he is too. When he wraps his arms around you tighter and he presses his lips to the top of your head, he feels his heart warming in his chest when you curl into him. 

Steve feels the urge to not let go, to keep you in his embrace, to keep you safe, to protect you. 

But not like his other friends, no, he wants to protect you in a different way. 

And that scares him too. Especially because he had never felt anything like this before. Never. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

[persephonesdreams21]

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬

I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

[cameronsbabydoll]

BURNT COOKIES — SPOILED KOOK READER + RAFE

WARNINGS — kissing and it implies that they end up having sex but it’s not shown in the writing?

You were determined to do something nice for Rafe, especially after he’d been working late for the past few days. The house felt empty without him around, and you figured baking him cookies would be the perfect way to show him you cared. You'd seen some cute recipe online—how hard could it be, right?

Now, standing in the kitchen, you’ve realized just how badly you misjudged the situation. The oven timer went off a while ago, and you can smell something burnt in the air. A quick glance at the tray reveals that your attempt at baking turned into a charred disaster. Your cookies look like they’ve been through a fire, and not the kind that makes them crispy in a good way.

Pouting, you stand in the middle of the kitchen, holding the ruined cookies in both hands. You're wearing one of Rafe’s oversized hoodies, your long legs in knee-high socks, and your hair in a messy ponytail. You look more adorable than anything else as you chew on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Rafe walks into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the scene. He’s just returned from the gym, his shirt sticking to his broad chest, and his hair still damp from the shower. When he spots you, he smirks, sensing your nervous energy. “What’s all this, baby?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

“I—I made you cookies,” you say sheepishly, holding them out to him. “But... they didn’t turn out exactly like the picture...”

Rafe stifles a chuckle as he takes a step closer. He looks down at the charred cookies, his lips curling into a smirk. “I can see that.” His gaze flickers back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “And here I thought you were trying to impress me.”

You bite your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection for him. “I was, I swear! I didn’t mean to mess them up.” You tilt your head, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But, um... I was hoping you’d still like them? I really tried...”

Rafe chuckles, his hand cupping your chin gently as he lifts your face to meet his. “You’re so cute, baby,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair out of your face. He kisses your forehead before looking down at the cookies again. “You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it. You know that, right?”

You nod eagerly, smiling at the praise, even if it’s only for your effort and not your baking skills. “Yeah, I wanted to make you happy,” you say with a soft giggle. “But... I think I messed it up.”

Rafe shakes his head, stepping closer and taking your hand. “You didn’t mess anything up, baby.” He pulls you toward him, your bodies pressing together as his hands slide down to your hips. He lowers his head, kissing you gently at first, and you melt into him, your hands wrapping around his neck. The kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against your lips, demanding entry as you let out a soft sigh.

When he pulls away, his eyes darken slightly, and he lowers his voice, now teasing. “I think you’re just using those cookies as an excuse to get my attention, huh?”

You giggle, playfully looking up at him. “Maybe,” you admit, your voice sweet and innocent, but there's a little hint of mischief in your eyes. “Is that bad?”

Rafe’s hands slide up your waist, pulling you even closer. His lips curve into a possessive smirk. “Not at all,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough now. “But now that you’ve got me here…” He gently pushes you back against the counter, his hands moving to your hips, keeping you locked against him.

“You’re so distracting, you know that?” he growls, his lips trailing down your neck. “I was trying to get some work done, but all I can think about is how cute you look in that hoodie. How sweet and innocent you seem, with those big eyes and that pretty smile.” His hands wander beneath the hoodie, his fingertips grazing the skin of your thighs, making you shiver with anticipation.

You giggle again, your hand running through his damp hair. “I can’t help it, Rafe... I just want to be with you.”

With a growl, Rafe pulls you closer, lifting you onto the counter as he stands between your legs. He looks down at you, his gaze heated and possessive. “You’re going to be the death of me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “But I’m not complaining.” He presses his lips to yours once more, this time with more urgency, his hands roaming over your body as his touch becomes more insistent.

You lean into him, your hands slipping under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Rafe... I really did try with the cookies,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his as your fingers trace the lines of his muscles.

“I know you did, baby,” he replies, his lips trailing down your neck again as his hand slides under the waistband of your lacy underwear, finding the heat between your legs. “And you know what? You’re perfect just the way you are. Now... let me show you how much I appreciate it.”

[hannahsturniolo]

ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ғᴀɴ

Warnings: physical fighting, stalker (not sure about anything else?)

Summary: you go to the same coffee shop every Friday morning with the triplets, you made the mistake a few weeks ago of posting an Instagram story of you in the coffee shop, and some guy who was obsessed with you, found out you go there every Friday.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You woke up next to Matt so excited because today is Friday, which means going to your favourite coffee shop with the boys. You made it a tradition.

You got ready, put on one of Matt’s oversized hoodies, black leggings, and your white converse. You put on a little bit of mascara and threw your hair into a bun.

You always post about what you’re doing on social media because you are an influencer. So once you got there, you took a picture of the coffee you ordered which had “Greenhouse coffee shop” written on the side of it, and posted it to your story.

About an hour went past of laughing and talking about life and we went to go exit the coffee shop. Nick and Chris were walking infront of you and Matt walking out hand in hand. You were walking just outside of the coffee shop passing by the windows.

You heard a man say out loud “that’s Y/N.”

You froze. Usually it’s young girls, or some of Matt’s fans that stop you on the street. You’ve never had a man call out to you.

You turn around, and so do the triplets.

“Hi” you said shyly.

“I’m a big fan of yours, and I’d really like a picture.”

You were still thrown off that it was a man, but you weren’t going to be rude, so you said sure. You stood beside him, and Matt stood close by keeping an eye out.

You felt the man go to reach down to your ass.

Matt noticed right away, walked over and put his arm out infront of you, protecting you. Nudging you back just a little bit.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Matt asked the man with a rude tone.

You were now standing behind Matt. Nick and Chris walking up to you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Chris asked.

“Yeah I’m okay, he just tried to grab at my ass.” You said very upset.

“What the fuck.” Chris replied.

The man backed up a little bit, “I’m sorry man, I’m just in love with her.”

“With my girl?? You don’t even know her, you’re a stranger to her!” Matt yelled back.

Chris grabbed your shoulder to pull you further from Matt and the man.

The man still continued. He shoved Matt out of the way trying to come back onto you.

Matt shoved him back.

“You better go now before I get involved” Chris said angry.

“Chris bring her to the car, and lock the doors. I’ll deal with him.” Matt told Chris.

Chris brought you to the car, and Nick stayed with Matt to make sure nothing bad was happening.

“Can you just leave my girl alone? She doesn’t want you” Matt yelled at the guy.

The guy got up in Matt’s face, so Matt punched him.

The guy fell to the ground, got up and started to walk away yelling “one day she’ll be mine!”.

“Just let him walk away. Let’s not start a scene” Nick told Matt. Matt and Nick walked back to the car.

Matt seen you crying in the passenger seat. Matt’s heart dropped.

Matt opened the drivers seat door and sat down, while Nick and Chris were in the back.

Matt turned to you, “I’m sorry baby you had to see that. I was just trying to protect you, no one should grab you like that.”

Matt grabbed your hand.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked you.

“I just can’t believe that happened. What if I was by myself?” You cried into your hands.

“Baby if something like that ever happens and none of us are around, you find the nearest person to help you.” Matt said.

Matt reached over to the passenger seat and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“As long as you’re with any of us Y/N, you’re safe. We’d never let anything happen to you.” Nick says reaching to the front seat putting his hand on your shoulder.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Idk how I feel about this lol. I wrote this in like 20 minutes. Just a thought that popped in my head.

[hearts4hughes]

Hello!!! I'm so sorry to bother you but when you do get the time could you do a more detailed fanfic of the last request I sent, no rush at all I was just wondering!!

ೃ࿔:･ three things rafe did to get you back, and the one that worked

he doesn’t sleep in his house for three nights.

not since your perfume curdled in the walls, not since your toothbrush disappeared and your favorite hoodie ended up folded in the laundry room like it didn’t mean anything.

he takes the truck and sleeps on the beach instead. driver’s seat reclined, cigarette burns on the floor mat, your voice echoing through his phone from some video you filmed months ago—shaky footage of him making you laugh in the cereal aisle at 3 am. you called him stupid in that video, grinning like you didn’t mean it. he keeps replaying that part.

he’s angry. not at you—never really at you—but at himself, for letting it get that far. for saying the kinds of things you don’t come back from, the kind that sit heavy in your chest when you’re trying to fall asleep. he doesn’t even remember how the fight started, just that it ended with the door slamming so hard a picture fell off the wall. just that you didn’t look back.

and god, he’s been trying to get you back everyday since.

1. he left flowers every day.

not store-bought roses, not the kind you see in glossy instagram proposals, no, they were wildflowers, hand-picked, stems crooked, petals bruised, sometimes tied with ribbon, sometimes with a handwritten note.

every morning, they showed up on your doorstep like clockwork—lilies, bluebells, dandelions stuffed in mason jars or beer bottles. he never knocked, never rang the bell, just left them. he figured you’d know who they were from anyway.

you left them outside until they filled your porch. the day you brought them all in was the day he stopped leaving them. figured you got the message. figured you’d call him, maybe send him a heartfelt text.

but he never got one.

2. he sent videos…too many.

they were always old ones. the ones you filmed when you were still his. the ones that you two were happiest in.

you in the passenger seat singing off-key, wind in your hair. you chasing him down the beach, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. his favorite—shaky footage of you asleep on his chest, his hand brushing your back like it was instinct.

he sent one every night. he watched your read receipt every night. he did that until the texts turned green and couldn’t go through.

3. he crashed your friend’s party.

it wasn’t subtle. he showed up in a backwards hat with low intentions, smirking like he didn’t already know the second he crossed the threshold, the room would turn against him. it didn’t matter. not when he saw you across the kitchen in that sundress, smiling at someone who wasn’t him.

“you invited him?” your best friend hissed when she saw him.

“wasn’t invited,” he replied, unbothered. “just came to see her.”

he didn’t fight, didn’t yell, didn’t try to make a scene. he just tried to talk. his voice was low, eyes glassy, and lip red with bite marks. but you didn’t budge, didn’t flinch, didn’t let him twist this into something that could be forgiven on a front lawn at 1:00 am.

you only told him to leave, and this time—for once—he did.

4. he annotated your favorite books.

he showed up at your house. it was late. your porch light was off, blinds closed, similar to the rest of the neighborhood.

he knocked a few times, hoping you were still awake, praying there wasn’t another guy over. you finally opened the door and he was just…standing there. hoodie pulled over his head, eyes red, not from weed this time—just from not sleeping. not eating, not knowing how to live in a world where you don’t love him anymore.

he didn’t say anything at first. just held out a stack of your favorite books. they were dog-eared, spine-bent, underlined in black ink.

“i read them,” he said, voice hoarse. “all of them. so i’d know what you meant when you said things. so i’d understand you better next time. if there’s a next time.” your breath caught. he looked down, added, quieter, “i even liked the sad ones.”

you took the books and he took one step back like he was ready for you to shut the door, but you didn’t. you opened it wider, allowing him to step inside.

“rafe, i-”

“don’t, don’t say anything.” he whispered, tears pooling at his waterline. he let out a shaky breath, fingers curling at his sides like he was holding himself back. “not yet.”

you placed the books down onto your coffee table and he looked around. his shoes were still in your mudroom, his rings still in your bowl, and his bouquets on your counter.

when his gaze fell back to you, you were walking towards him with open arms. he melted into your embrace. it was like water during a restless night, like a warm blanket on a cool winter day, like home.

he nuzzled his face into your neck, lip quivering as he tried to compose himself. “never leave me again, baby. i was ruined without you.” he whispered, pressing kisses to your neck.

“that makes two of us,” you chuckled through broken sobs.

and it wasn’t forgiveness. not yet, but he hugged you like he’d just been told the world wasn’t ending after all.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife

[awrkive]

PLEASE LET CNBL COUPLE HAVE THEIR SEXTAPE 🤤 i think oc would be down to that idea but i get why jungkook is taking things slow too but my man is a simp fr he would put it in a loop because he’s obsessed with his girlfriend

i got u anon. ive got an ask about it sometime ago abt what miss cnbl!oc feels about digital s*x or film s*x. thought of an idea. this is 2 years after wncl, which is sorta kinda like the sequel of cnbl lols. anyways this is kinda self indulgent and honestly just an excuse to write smut 😭

summary: jungkook can't bear being away from you, and so you give him a solution

w/c: 2k lol

warning/s: consensual filming, unprotected s*x, cre*mpies

Jungkook can get pretty intense during reunions. In fact, intense is an understatement. He absolutely goes fervent, and you can’t blame him when you missed him just as bad too. 

“Ngh– fuck, I miss you so much, baby. I miss you every fucking day,” he groans into your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you at that pace that’s just so right. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough to make you keen; to make you grip the sheets behind you so tight. Just enough to not make it hurt when you've already come two times from his mouth and tongue, and another two times from his dick. Consequently, he's already two creampies inside your pussy and it's not even been a full hour.

And just when you thought that he’d be satisfied by the last time, he’s now determined on coaxing a fifth release from you. 

Frankly, you don’t know if you can do it. Sure, there was one time last year when he made you cum seven times in a row – and Jungkook still talks about it like a kid high on sugar, mentions it every now and then, keeps on wanting to do it again sometime – but it’s too bad you can’t keep up with him all of the time. Jungkook’s stamina is high and yours isn’t all that exemplary.

But you do try your best to match it because you love it just as well. You love the feeling of his cum shooting inside your hole, him pushing it back into you in that non-overbearing possessive manner, and how he always tells you you’re such a good girl for taking more and more, just letting him give and give. 

It’s why you encourage him to get you to cum again – because god, you really also missed him so fucking bad. 

He just got back from LA, just arrived at your place five hours ago, and you expected him to sleep the whole night in – not when you know he worked so hard back there. His team just bagged a win, and they’re moving onto semis the next few weeks. 

But Jungkook informed you that he had to leave again in six days – had to train across oceans again with the team. Said that he just begged his coach to get him a one-week vacay when others only got four. 

It’s not unfair when he’s the star player of the team he’s been winning for in the entirety of the last year. Jungkook’s an NBA player who has gained much bigger success and popularity ever since he got drafted, despite being so young and fresh to the scene. 

And sure, he basks in it sometimes – likes the praise, likes the way winning makes him feel. He loves playing for the team. Loves the work that he does. 

But one thing he absolutely fucking loathes about it is that he has to fly off across states for a game, and that means leaving the comfort of your shared apartment – leaving you, not being with you. 

And so you understand greatly why he’s intense during reunions. Because as much as you’re happy with your current lawyering – in your second year now – you also miss those days back in college when you could just have each other every single day. 

“Yes, fuck– oh there, baby, that feels so good…” you moan when he hits a particular spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he encloses his hot mouth around your nipple again, alternating on suckling and nipping around it, his other hand fondling your other boob. But again, Jungkook seems to be so on edge right now that you let out an “Ow!” at one harsh bite. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook soothes it with a kiss to the tip, hips still moving against yours, cock going at a steady pace in and out of your pussy. “I just missed you so much, pretty girl. Those calls weren’t enough.” He whispers against your chest, this time lapping at your breasts more gently. 

You reach out for the messy locks that sit atop his head, smiling gently down at him even though he can’t see you. 

“Babe?” 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to take a video?” You ask, still caressing his hair. 

You don’t expect the way his hips stutter after your question. The quickness in which he peels his head away from your tits to look at you with a surprised face after that is almost laughable but that would be mean of you.

“What?” 

“A video. Of us. I dunno… maybe it will do us both good if we have something of us while we’re away from each other.” you shrug nonchalantly. 

You both aren’t strangers to sending nudes to each other or sexting in general. Jungkook sends you videos and pictures of his dick a lot of times – unprovoked and even on a random Tuesday at 2 fucking pm. And you send him your tits and risky pictures of you in crotchless panties when you feel like it. (Like when you’re taking a bath and you're feeling a bit raunchy with the soap suds all over your breasts… Jungkook gets so drunk off the pictures that he fucks you so good once he gets ahold of you in person.)

It used to be just tits but you’ve upgraded to pussy pics… hey, it’s just that you’ve grown more comfortable overtime.

Being with Jungkook for three years now, you can say that you’ve tried a lot of things with sex. But somehow… you’ve never really tried making a sex tape. 

Sure, Jungkook’s brought it up before. Asked you if you were interested in the idea – but you answerwd with an affirmative no. Photos were okay, but videos were off-limits, and Jungkook was completely fine with that. It is your body, and he understands thoroughly the anxiety that you have behind the idea of sexual digital footprint – you’re a woman after all, there’s ultimately danger as a consequence to the very idea. 

It’s not even Jungkook you don’t trust. God, you trust him so much – but it’s this paranoia about imaginary people who are out to get you. 

And so that has always held you back. 

But right now, as you feel Jungkook’s frustration about the long distance thing as much as his love while he drives you up the headboard with his loving, passionate thrusts, you can’t help but think that maybe you can give this a try. 

Filming a sextape, you meant. 

“Are you sure?” Jungkook blinks up at you, eyes wide as it opens and blinks continuously. 

You chuckle. “Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jungkook smiles shyly, and it’s adorable because he’s literally balls deep in you right now. 

“I thought it was no-go.” 

“Please,” you roll your eyes playfully– but you’re soon cut off by a particular thrust. Jungkook knows this too, as he begins peppering kisses all over your jaw, humming to let you know he’s still listening. You stammer a little, but you manage to let out a continuation of your sentence, “I let you put your dick in my ass and spit in my mouth. Nothing is no-go between us at this point.” 

Your joke may not have been the funniest – as it just further riles Jungkook up by the way he suddenly picks up his speec. 

“Oh, fuck, you little minx – you really had to say that, huh?” He emerges from your neck and grabs your jaw – albeit softly. “Get me real fucking hard talking about those.” 

“You can do them to me on camera now.” you say, challenging. And you laugh when you feel him literally freeze. But it’s not as funny anymore when his cock throbs inside of you, and suddenly, you feel the urge to cum again. To release one more time.

He recovers quickly from the shock, though. “Yeah?” 

You gasp when he plunges his cock back into you, only leaving the first half of his length before he enters again. He repeats that motion until your neck is craned back and your eyes are seeing stars. 

“Keep going like that— yes, yes!” You say, starting to get hysterical because you can feel that coil in the pit of your stomach now. 

Just a few more pumps and it will come out anytime soon. 

“You’re so fucking hot and pretty, look at you.” Jungkook sighs, taking a hold of your hips this time so he can hit deeper. And he does hit deeper, alright – that it doesn’t really take too long before you spasm around his length again, your fifth orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

You lie there on the mattress completely lax while Jungkook goes on with a few more erratic trusts until you feel that hot liquid cum shooting straight to your hole. 

The both of you mewl in unison at the sensation, with Jungkook kissing your mouth to bask in the moment.

When he breaks away, he caresses your cheek and plants a sweet peck to the tip of your nose.

“We’re filming the sextape tomorrow but can I take a video of your pussy full of my cum right now?” He asks seriously, and his polite tone – as if he’s requesting something at the White House – makes you laugh again. You're so giggly now that he's back. Go figure.

(How you love him so much.)

“Okay.” you say, and you watch as his eyes widen, cock twitching inside your pussy that he still hasn’t pulled out from you yet.

“Fuck, you’re the fucking best.” He says as he picks up his phone from the nightstand. 

Turning it sideways, he grips the device with his left hand, turning the camera to your body. 

“Just make sure it doesn’t pick up my face, okay?” You say, but nonetheless enjoy the sight of his hooded eyes roaming around your naked body like he’s high on it. 

“I know. I’ll do that.” Jungkook murmurs, but you know he’s distracted, especially when you finally get to see the sudden shift in position where he’s kneeling on his calf now in between your spread legs. “Open wider for me, baby, let the camera see how full you are with my cock and cum.” 

You hiss at that, and you let Jungkook guide your thigh with his free hand as he helps you spread the two of them wider.

“Hold them for me, princess, just a min.” Jungkook says, folding your knees until they’re all up in your chest. With his help, you relax in that position, waiting for what he does next. “Good. Good girl. Always so behaved…” he trails off, and slowly, he slides out his cock from your heat. 

Jungkook thinks your face is the most beautiful he’s ever seen and your pussy stuffed, leaking with his cum is a close second. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, making sure the camera captures just how white your pussy is now with his thick cum – a product of five straight orgasms he’d coaxed out from you. He wants to highlight the way your pussy throbs, but sadly with the bad lighting and him using a phone camera, he can’t. 

Still, he relishes in the high of seeing you bare like this. With the tip of his cock just right beside your pussy, he slides the crown back to gather all the cum that dripped out, pushing it back into you. 

There's an overspill that coats his dick as well, and it’s making him feel things. Like his cock getting hard again even though he just came the second time. 

“Oh, Jungkook…” You sigh out, feeling overstimulated now. But as you look at his face, completely distracted, you enjoy the view instead. “You like that, baby?” You ask meekly, thinking that maybe he’d like that when he watches this again. 

“So fucking much, you have no fucking idea.” Jungkook huffs. “You’re so full already but there’s still so much leaking out.” 

“That’s all of you, Jungkook,” You say sweetly. 

“Hm. I know… shit… I just wanna do this everyday.” 

“Film is?” You snort. 

“Fucking you… being with you. I was going crazy in my hotel room at LA. Just wanna be with you all the time.” He laments. Jungkook presses on the phone and suddenly, he puts it back on the nightstand. 

“Awe. Poor baby.” You respond, tapping his forearm, putting your legs down while Jungkook soothes your thighs with gentle rubbing. 

You thought he’s done for the night, but suddenly, he says, “Angel, I may have lied. Can we film the sextape tonight, please?” 

You laugh. Again. And Jungkook just falls down your body, snuggles close to your chest as you instantly play with his hair. 

“Alright.” You say, craning your neck down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. 

[cloudyluun]

I Didn’t Mean to Break You | Commission

Summary: You’re supposed to be living the dream: backstage passes to Portugal, sunsets with him, and nights filled with laughter. But lately, it feels like your chest is always tight, your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and the boy you’ve spent years secretly loving is the one brushing off your pain like it’s nothing. When your fear of being too much finally breaks you, he sees it. And suddenly? He’ll do anything to make sure he never makes you cry again.

A/N: this fic is a commissioned piece from my inbox of dreams!! this one’s got ✨emotional damage✨ followed by ✨emotional dick✨ (the duality of man)  we cry a little, get licked a lot, and finally get the love we deserve in a Portuguese hotel room. don’t we all. thanks to the sweet angel who commissioned this! if you're reading this on your lunch break… hydrate. moisturize. pretend you're in Lisbon with Harry Styles whispering “you’re not too much for me” into your collarbone.

Word Count: 6,5k

Warnings: 

Anxiety & emotional dysregulation (medication-related)

Crying/reader crying

Harry being dismissive at first (borderline cruel)

Hurt/comfort dynamic

Deep emotional vulnerability

Oral sex (f receiving)

Protected sex

Praise kink / soft dom!Harry energy

Aftercare (bath scene)

Cursing

Emotional smut / comforting sex

Reader doubts her worth

Harry realizing he’s in love too late (but fixing it!)

Slight angst before resolution

Tour setting

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Lisbon feels too bright. The sky is sharp blue, almost fake, like it’s been filtered one too many times. The sun bounces off the cobblestones in a way that makes your eyes water, and your sneakers catch on every third step. You’re sweating through your t-shirt and regretting the iced coffee you didn’t finish because now it’s just sloshing in your stomach, making you feel more nauseous than awake.

Harry’s up ahead, a few steps in front, arms stretched out as he turns in a slow circle to take in the street. There’s a linen shirt hanging open on his chest and sunglasses half-falling off his nose. He looks like he belongs in a perfume commercial. The kind with piano music and long looks across sun-drenched plazas. People keep staring at him, but in Portugal, no one seems to bother him too much. They clock him, maybe whisper to whoever they’re with, and let him pass like the breeze.

You trail behind the rest of the crew, trying not to think too hard about the fact that your pulse feels like it’s skipping every other beat. It’s the new meds. Probably. Or the heat. Or just being here, foreign country, different language, everyone relaxed and happy, and you stuck in your own head like it’s a too-small room with no air.

You don’t say anything. You haven’t said much all day. You laugh when someone says something funny. Smile when you’re meant to. Your camera stays strapped to your shoulder but you haven’t taken a single shot since lunch. You’re not sure what you’d even be capturing right now. Everyone else seems like they’re glowing. You feel like static.

Harry glances over his shoulder at one point and gives you a grin.

“You alright, love?” he calls back, casual, effortless. Like he always is.

You nod and lift your hand in a weak wave, trying to make it look like the sun’s just in your eyes. He holds your gaze for a second too long before turning back around. You catch the way he nudges Pauli and says something under his breath. They laugh. You don’t hear it, but your brain supplies its own interpretation anyway.

You’ve been trying to act normal. Whatever that means now. You switched to this new prescription two weeks ago, hoping it’d help level you out. Less anxiety, fewer spirals. Except you’ve just been feeling foggy and wrong in a way that’s hard to explain. Like your body’s here, but the rest of you is lagging behind. Everyone keeps talking about how good the shows have been, how tight the band sounds, how happy Harry looks.

He does look happy. Glowing, even. He’s in his element, slipping between languages when ordering food, charming entire tables of strangers, dancing a little when music plays from open café doors. It’s electric. He’s electric. It should be infectious, the kind of thing that makes everyone around him buzz. Usually, it is. Right now, it just makes you feel lonelier.

When you get back to the venue for soundcheck, you linger by the side of the stage, pretending to go through your photos even though your memory card is still blank. Harry’s center stage, barefoot already, singing snippets of something he’s been playing with between sets. His voice wraps around the empty room like warm water. You used to love watching him like this, unguarded and half-focused, doing the thing he loves most.

Today, it makes you ache.

“Oi,” he says when he spots you again later, this time backstage where everyone’s grabbing snacks and arguing over who’s hogging the AC. He walks over with a bottle of water in one hand and a towel draped around his neck. “You’ve been quiet lately. Tightly wound, yeah? You alright?”

You try to laugh. It comes out more like a breath.

“I’m fine,” you say, too quickly. “Just tired.”

He raises an eyebrow and nudges your arm with the back of his hand.

“You sure? You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows again.”

You look up at him, squinting. “I always have that crease.”

“Nah. Not like this. You’re stressing.”

“I’m not stressing.”

“You are. You get all serious when you’re in your head. Like someone told you there’s a pop quiz on reality.”

It’s meant to be light. He’s teasing. He’s always teased you. That’s the rhythm you’ve settled into over the years, safe and familiar. The little flicks of banter, the push and pull of people who pretend not to notice the way they orbit each other.

Today, though, it doesn’t land right.

You force a smile and shift your weight onto one foot. “Guess I’m just boring now. Sorry to disappoint.”

He catches it too late. The way your voice dips. The way you pull away slightly as someone else calls his name. He hesitates, like he might say something else, but the moment’s gone. You slip out the side door of the green room before he can follow.

Back in your hotel later, you stand under the cold shower until your skin turns pink. You stare at the ceiling while the water hits your face and try to slow your breathing. There’s a tightness in your chest that hasn’t gone away all day. Maybe it’s just Lisbon. Maybe it’s you. You towel off and lie on the bed in a pair of shorts and his hoodie, the one you borrowed in Barcelona and never gave back. It still smells like him. Somehow that makes you feel worse.

Your phone lights up on the nightstand. A message from Harry.

you alright?

You stare at it for a minute. Type out a reply and delete it. You wish you could just tell him the truth. That everything feels louder lately. That you feel like you’re fading out of focus while he’s never burned brighter. That being this close to him, day after day, and still feeling so far away is starting to crack you in places you don’t know how to fix.

You don’t reply. Not yet.

Instead, you roll onto your side, hug a pillow to your chest, and close your eyes.

He’s glowing. You’re unraveling.

You don’t know how much longer you can hide it.

The show ends with confetti in your hair and sweat running down your back, your ears still ringing from the last chorus. Lisbon loves him. The crowd roared like they knew him personally, like he’d just won something for all of them. You watched from the side of the stage, smiling when it felt safe to, clapping when everyone else did, heart thudding in your throat like it’s running out of room.

Back at the hotel, the crew peels off one by one. Some heading to the rooftop bar, some mumbling about showers and sleep. You think about joining them, pretending your brain isn’t chewing itself up. Instead, you drift toward the balcony attached to Harry’s suite. It’s quieter there, away from the laughter and leftover adrenaline.

He’s already out there, barefoot again, legs kicked up on the railing. There’s a bottle of wine open between you. He pours you a glass without asking. You take it because you don’t know how to say no to him, not when he looks like this, cheeks still flushed from the stage lights, skin dewy under the moon.

“Good crowd,” you say, because it’s easier than silence.

“Very good. Loud. One girl in the second row had my name painted across her arms. Both arms.”

You smile into your glass. “You’re a humble man, really.”

“I’m the humblest,” he says, grinning. “Ask anyone.”

It’s comfortable for a few minutes. You sip slowly, letting the cool breeze do what it can to unclench your body. You’re worn thin, but this is the closest you’ve come to peace all week.

He tilts his head back and stares at the stars like he’s trying to memorize them. “We’ve got two more shows here. Might actually get a day off.”

You hum in response. Your glass is still half full and your stomach feels full of stones. You look at him. He hasn’t noticed how quiet you’ve gone. Or maybe he has and is pretending not to.

You set your glass down and pull your knees to your chest. “Can I tell you something weird?”

He glances over. “When have you ever not told me something weird?”

“No, like. Not funny weird. Weird weird.”

He nods, sobers a little. “Go on.”

You pause. You want to ask directly. Say the truth with your chest. Instead, it comes out all wrong, like always.

“I’ve got this friend,” you start. “She’s… struggling. Says she feels like she’s cramping someone’s vibe. Like, that she’s too much. Too messy or anxious or just... not what people want around when things are good.”

He frowns, but not in a thoughtful way. More like he’s already dismissing it.

“Why’s she think that?”

You shrug. “Maybe because she sees how easy it is for everyone else. How happy they are. And she feels like a glitch in the program.”

“Sounds like she’s overthinking everything.”

“She probably is.”

He shifts in his seat and raises an eyebrow. “No offense, but that’s dumb. Anyone who thinks that way doesn’t deserve to be around. People either want you there or they don’t. If they do, they’ll let you know.”

Your heart doesn’t even sink. It just stops.

You nod like that makes perfect sense. Like he didn’t just pull the ground out from under you without realizing it. He says it with a grin, casual and confident, like it’s a line from a film he’s quoting back. He doesn’t mean it cruelly. That’s the worst part. He thinks he’s being reassuring.

You look away so he doesn’t see the shift in your face.

“Yeah. Makes sense,” you say, voice hollow.

He stretches, groaning a little, and stands. “I need a shower before I fall asleep standing up. You good?”

You give him the same lie you’ve been giving all week. “Yeah.”

He gives you a soft smile, ruffles your hair like he used to back when things felt simple, and disappears into the room. The balcony is quiet again. You sip the wine slowly, even though it tastes like nothing now.

The next morning, you don’t show up for breakfast. You skip the shuttle to the venue and Uber there alone. You stick close to the tech crew and spend most of the day by the equipment cases, pretending you’re organizing something important. Nobody bothers you, which you’re grateful for, even if it only makes the gnawing in your chest worse.

You feel stupid for thinking that maybe last night would go differently. For hoping he’d connect the dots, see past the disguise. You handed it to him on a plate and he tossed it without looking. That’s not fair, you know that. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He didn’t know. Still, it lands like betrayal. He made you feel like you were being ridiculous for feeling what you feel. Like your fears were pathetic.

You keep your sunglasses on all day. Not for the sun. Your eyes are red. He passes by a few times, tossing you small smiles, saying things like “You good?” in a way that barely masks concern. You nod, say “Fine,” every time. He accepts it. He always does.

At one point, he catches your arm gently as you pass in the hallway behind the stage.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

“Didn’t see it.”

He lets go of your arm, brows pulling together. “You alright?”

You force a laugh. “Tired. Like you said, I’ve been tightly wound.”

His face flickers, just for a second. You don’t give him time to respond. You walk off before he can ask anything else. If he calls after you, you don’t hear it over the blood rushing in your ears.

You don’t go to the afterparty that night. You stay in your room, lights off, TV muted. Your phone buzzes once. His name on the screen. You don’t read it.

You told him, in the only way you could. He didn’t hear you.

You’re done trying to make him listen.

You get good at disappearing without actually leaving. People talk around you, past you. Your body’s still there, showing up, nodding at the right moments, laughing when someone makes a joke. But your head is somewhere else entirely. You’ve stopped trying to close the gap.

Harry’s been different too. Not obvious to anyone else, maybe, but you’ve known him too long not to notice. He’s softer around you, a little more careful. Which would be nice if it didn’t feel like guilt. Like now that he’s vaguely clocked something’s off, he’s trying to fix it without asking what’s broken. He brings you tea instead of coffee in the mornings. Tells you when he likes your outfit. Stays within reach but doesn’t touch. It’s almost worse.

You keep it together until Lisbon’s last night.

It’s after the show, backstage, people buzzing high off the energy. There’s music playing from someone’s speaker, and the dressing room’s full of shouting and snacks and half-changed outfits. You’re leaning against the wall near the door, half-listening as Harry talks to someone about the next city’s venue layout.

You’re not even sure how the conversation pivots to you. One second he’s talking about stage lighting, the next his voice cuts through loud and clear.

“She’s been like a little storm cloud this week, hasn’t she?” He laughs, flicks his thumb in your direction like it’s nothing. “You alright now, or still spiraling?”

There’s a pause. Just a beat. Some people chuckle. One of the lighting techs gives you a sympathetic smile.

You stare at him.

He doesn’t mean it. He’s teasing, the same way he always has, the same cadence, the same crooked grin that says come on, it’s all in fun. But your throat closes anyway. The laugh someone else makes feels miles away. Your hands start to shake and suddenly there’s not enough air in the room.

You don’t say anything. You just push off the wall and walk out.

You hear him call your name once, confused, still smiling like it’s a joke you’ll both laugh about later. You keep walking.

The hallway is too bright. You find the first stairwell you can and climb until your legs burn. The roof is unlocked. Thank god. You push the door open and let the cold night hit you full in the face. It’s quieter up here. Still loud inside your chest, but at least the rest of the world has gone still.

You sit down hard on the concrete, pulling your knees to your chest, trying not to cry. It doesn’t work. It never does lately. You bury your face in your arms and give in to it, silent and sharp. You don’t sob. You just shake and cry like it’s leaking straight from your ribs.

The door creaks open behind you.

You don’t lift your head.

He steps out, shuts it quietly. His footsteps pause. You can feel him hesitate.

“You ran out like your hair was on fire,” he says, voice soft, unsure.

You don’t respond. You don’t want to talk. He doesn’t deserve to hear it, not after that.

He sits down a few feet away. Not close enough to touch. Close enough to wait.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

You wipe your face with your sleeve, still staring straight ahead. “Doesn’t really matter how you meant it.”

He exhales slowly. “I was just messing around.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know you’d take it like—”

“Jesus, Harry, stop.” You finally turn your head, eyes glassy. “It wasn’t the joke. It’s everything. You haven’t noticed anything, not really. You think I’m just being moody or weird or whatever, but I’ve been drowning this whole week. And you made me feel like I was annoying for it.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You look away again. “Remember the other night? When I said my friend felt like too much?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

You wipe under your eye. “It wasn’t a friend. It was me.”

His whole body stills.

“I feel like too much all the time,” you say quietly. “Like I’m ruining the vibe or dragging people down or just being this… dead weight. And you just made me feel worse.”

The wind moves your hair across your cheek. You don’t push it away.

“I’m trying, you know? I’m trying really fucking hard to keep up and not fall apart and smile when I’m supposed to and do my job and be cool and not ruin everything. But I can’t fake it anymore. I feel like I’m breaking into pieces, and you were supposed to be the one person who saw me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

You glance over. His face is pale, the line of his jaw tight.

“I didn’t know,” he finally says, voice rough. “I swear to god, I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t looking.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I’m so sorry. That was… I was an idiot. I thought you just needed space, or rest, or... I don’t know. I didn’t want to push.”

“You didn’t have to push. You just had to ask.”

He presses his hands to his face for a second, rubbing hard, like he’s trying to scrub the guilt off.

“I’m not gonna be the reason you cry. Not again.”

You laugh once, bitter. “Little late.”

“I know.”

You sit there in silence for a while. The city below is still alive. Cars moving like blood through veins. Somewhere, someone’s playing music through an open window.

He shifts closer. Just a little. He doesn’t reach for you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel small,” he says, quieter now. “You’re not. You’ve never been. You walk into a room and I feel it every time.”

Your heart kicks once, startled.

“I’ve been pretending I don’t see it,” he continues, “because if I do, I have to deal with what that means. And I was scared. Still am.”

You glance at him. “Scared of what?”

He looks at you fully. There’s nothing flippant in his face now. No teasing. Just the weight of something real.

“Of what happens if I feel everything I’m already feeling. Of fucking it up. Of hurting you.”

“You already did.”

“I know.”

He moves closer again. You don’t stop him.

“I want to fix it,” he says. “I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

You let the silence stretch between you. The tears haven’t come back yet. Your chest still feels hollow, but not as sharp.

You don’t forgive him. Not yet.

But you don’t walk away, either.

The next morning, there’s a knock on your hotel door. You open it to find him holding a to-go cup and a paper bag. He doesn’t say anything dramatic. Just hands you the coffee and smiles, sheepish.

“Figured you might want breakfast in peace,” he says. “Got your weird order. The eggy thing.”

You take the bag slowly. “You remembered?”

“Course I did.”

The coffee’s perfect. He got the sugar right. That detail makes your throat tighten more than it should.

Over the next couple days, he doesn’t push. He just shows up in little ways. Keeps his teasing gentle, his jokes safe. He lets you move through the space between you at your own pace. He lingers in the wings during soundcheck, sends you a dumb meme when he knows you’re holed up editing photos, plays your favorite song on his phone during van rides.

When you meet eyes across the room now, he doesn’t look away.

That night in Madrid, you find yourself alone with him again, in his suite, post-show. There’s a calmness to the moment that didn’t exist before. You’re both quieter, steadier. You’re sitting on his bed, scrolling through photos from the last venue, and he’s lying beside you, one arm slung behind his head, watching the ceiling like it’s saying something only he can hear.

He turns to you, suddenly serious.

“I think I’ve been pretending I don’t feel anything because if I do... this gets messy.”

You look up.

His eyes meet yours. “But I can’t ignore it anymore. Not after everything. I don’t want to.”

You don’t speak. You’re too scared of tipping the balance. He inches closer, voice softer now.

“I didn’t just miss the signs because I was distracted. I missed them because I was scared. Of how much I care about you. Of how much you matter to me. I’ve never had that in someone I see every day. It’s terrifying.”

You let the silence sit there. He deserves to squirm for a second.

“Terrifying, huh?” you finally say.

He smiles weakly. “I’m not good at this.”

“You’re really not.”

He laughs under his breath, sits up on his elbow to face you better. “Can I ask something and not ruin this?”

“That’s a strong maybe.”

“If I kissed you right now... would that be a mistake?”

Your pulse kicks. You look at him, really look. His face is open in a way it hasn’t been in days. No swagger. Just nerves and hope and something that looks a lot like regret.

You don’t say anything. You just lean in.

When your lips meet, it’s not a firework. It’s a match catching slow. Soft and warm and aching with everything that hasn’t been said. He kisses you like he’s trying to tell you everything he missed. Like he’s making up for every second he looked past you.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

You touch his face, shake your head. “Don’t ruin it.”

He kisses you again. Longer this time. Deeper. No performance, no pressure. Just need.

You don’t know where this goes. You’re not even sure what happens next.

But for the first time in days, maybe weeks, your chest feels quiet.

And he’s still here.

Trying.

Looking right at you.

You think that should make it easier to breathe, and in some ways it does, but in others it’s worse. Because now you can feel everything again. The weight of his eyes, the stretch of silence between each touch, the heat pooling low in your belly just from the way he says your name. You’re not numb anymore, and that’s almost more terrifying than being invisible.

Later, in the quiet of your hotel room, you lie in bed under the thin sheets, staring at the ceiling. Sleep won’t come. Your body is too aware of the space around you, too charged with something you’ve been holding back for too long. You hear voices out in the hallway, a door closing, the faint creak of footsteps outside your own.

Then there’s a soft knock.

You don’t move. You know it’s him. You knew he’d come. Part of you thought he might just leave it at that kiss, at the admission hanging between you like fog. Another part of you knew he couldn’t. Not tonight.

You pull the sheet higher and call out, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s open.”

He enters slowly, like the room might bite him. He closes the door gently behind him, eyes sweeping over you, lips parted like he’s mid-thought but not ready to speak. You sit up, press your back to the headboard, heart ticking louder than it should.

Harry doesn’t say anything at first. He walks to the edge of the bed and pauses, not reaching for you. Just standing there, like he's trying to work up the nerve.

“I know it’s late,” he says. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking.”

You nod once, not trusting your voice.

“I want to make this right.” He lowers to his knees in front of you, hands braced on the edge of the bed. “Let me take care of you. Please. Let me show you you’re not too much. Not for me.”

Your breath catches. He looks up at you with something close to reverence, like he’s asking permission to worship. You reach out, fingers threading through his curls, and that’s all the answer he needs.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Then your wrist. Then your bare shoulder, slow and unhurried, like he’s mapping you. You feel every brush of his mouth like it’s the first time you’ve ever been touched.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says softly.

You don’t.

His lips ghost over your cheek, then your jaw. His hand slides up under your shirt, palm warm and steady against your waist. He doesn’t rush. Just moves slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he pushes too fast. The way he touches you is different. It’s not just want. It’s apology. It’s awe.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, mouth against your skin. “So perfect. Can’t believe I ever made you think otherwise.”

You close your eyes as his hands travel up, sliding your shirt over your head with a care that makes your throat ache. He looks at you like he’s seeing you properly now, like every inch of you matters. His fingers skim over your ribs, your sides, down the dip of your waist like you’re something sacred.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“I know.” You laugh a little, but it’s shaky too. “I’m just… it’s a lot.”

“I’ll go slow.”

He does.

Every kiss is deliberate. His mouth trails down your stomach, each press of his lips grounding you more. When he finally pushes your underwear down, he does it like he’s unwrapping a gift. Like he’s been waiting for this for longer than he wants to admit.

He settles between your thighs, eyes flicking up once to make sure you’re still okay. You nod, hand trembling slightly where it rests on the sheets. He doesn’t hesitate after that.

The first lick is gentle, testing. His tongue moves slow, measured, like he’s learning you. Like this is something he wants to get exactly right. You gasp, fingers clenching in the bedding. He hums at the sound and keeps going, a little more sure now, a little deeper.

He holds your hips in place when you twitch, one hand sliding up to intertwine with yours. His thumb strokes across your knuckles as his mouth works you open, coaxing every shiver, every gasp from your lips. He doesn’t say much, just quiet praises when you arch into him, when your breath catches in that specific way.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod, a little frantically, tears stinging behind your eyes because no one’s ever looked at you like this while you fell apart.

He keeps going, unrelenting, steady. He doesn’t stop until you come with a soft cry, thighs trembling around his shoulders, your free hand fisting the sheet like it’s the only thing tethering you to earth. You feel yourself break open a little. Not from the pleasure, but from how safe it feels.

You’re crying before you even realize it.

Harry pulls back slowly, blinking up at you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Too much?” he asks, already reaching for you, gentle.

You shake your head, tears slipping down your temples. “No. I just… it’s a lot. But in a good way. You’re… being too kind.”

He crawls up the bed and cradles your face. “This isn’t kindness. This is what you deserve.”

You laugh wetly. “Now you’re just laying it on thick.”

“I mean it.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and sweet. “You deserve to be handled like you matter. Because you do.”

You press your face into his shoulder, still trembling. He holds you there, hand rubbing up and down your back, grounding you.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he whispers into your hair. “I just wanted to show you.”

You believe him. God, you believe him.

And for the first time in what feels like weeks, you don’t feel too much.

You just feel wanted.

He’s still holding you, still brushing his fingers along your spine like he can soothe every inch of tension out of your body if he’s just gentle enough. You’re warm everywhere, heavy and loose in your limbs, but your heart’s still tight with all the things you’ve been carrying. You shift under him, just enough to look up, and he catches your face in his hands like you might vanish if he lets go.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You nod, eyes glassy but clear. “I want you.”

He freezes for half a second, like he’s trying to convince himself this is real. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

His mouth curves, just a little. Not a smirk. Just something soft. Something grateful.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s reading a prayer. Your fingers move to the waistband of his briefs, and he lets you, pulling them down just enough, like he’s been waiting for permission this whole time. You feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, but he doesn’t rush. Doesn’t shift forward until he’s looked you in the eye again.

“This okay?”

You reach up, touch his cheek, whisper, “Yeah.”

He pushes in slowly, careful, like he’s still afraid he might hurt you without meaning to. The stretch burns in the sweetest way, and you bite your lip, blinking up at him as he bottoms out. He holds there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard like he’s trying to stay grounded.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he says, almost a whisper. “Been dreaming about this… about you.”

Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking. You curl into him, one hand slipping into his hair, the other finding his hand and squeezing tight. He laces your fingers together instantly, like it’s instinct.

He starts moving, slow and deep, every thrust more like a kiss than anything else. You feel it everywhere. Not just in your body but in the way he looks at you, in the way he murmurs your name like it’s made of silk. He doesn’t stop touching you, doesn’t stop telling you how perfect you are, how he’s never wanted anything like this before.

“I’ve got you,” he says, over and over, like it’s a promise he needs to repeat until it’s etched into your skin. “You’re safe with me. I’ve got you.”

You believe him.

Your chest tightens as the feeling builds. It’s not just the pleasure, it’s the emotion of it. The way you’ve been holding back for so long, pretending not to care, pretending not to want. It all cracks open at once. He moves a little deeper, his nose brushing yours, and it just breaks you.

You cry without meaning to, a soft sob pulling from your chest as you start to fall apart under him. He freezes, eyes wide, pulling back just enough to see your face.

“Hey… hey, look at me,” he whispers, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “You okay?”

You nod, breath catching. “I just… it’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You hold onto him tighter as he picks up that rhythm again, deeper now, more connected. His hand stays locked with yours, your bodies rocking together like they’ve done this a hundred times. Every thrust is a thread stitching something back together inside you.

You feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, burning up your spine, and he must feel it too because he leans in close, presses his forehead to yours, breath shaking against your mouth.

“You close?” he asks, voice cracking. “I can feel you…”

You nod frantically, pulling him in tighter with your legs. “Yeah… yeah, don’t stop.”

He kisses you through it, one final deep thrust pushing you over the edge. You clench around him with a choked sob, crying against his mouth as the wave crashes through you. He follows seconds later, groaning your name into your neck, his whole body trembling as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t move for a long time.

Just stays there, holding you, breathing into your shoulder, your fingers still tangled, your hearts thudding against each other like they’re trying to sync.

You cry again, quietly this time, not from pain, not from sadness, just release. It feels like letting go of something you didn’t realize you were gripping so tightly.

He kisses the corner of your eye and whispers, “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

Eventually, when the silence feels calm instead of heavy, he pulls out gently and kisses your stomach. He doesn’t say anything as he gets up and walks to the bathroom. You think he’s just going to grab a towel, but you hear the water running, the quiet sound of the tub filling. A few minutes later he comes back, naked except for the hoodie he’s tugged over his head, arms open.

“Come on,” he says, voice soft. “Let me take care of you a little longer.”

You let him lift you into the bath, warm water curling around your body like a sigh. He sits behind you, legs bracketing yours, pulling you back against his chest. His hands move through your hair slowly, massaging your scalp like he’s done it a thousand times. You close your eyes, let yourself lean into it. Let yourself be taken care of.

He kisses the top of your head. “Still with me?”

“Barely,” you mumble. “Floating.”

“Good.” He smiles against your temple. “You deserve to float.”

He stays until the water starts to cool. Towels you off gently, hands reverent. Helps you into clean clothes. His hoodie, soft and warm, the sleeves a little too long. You don’t even try to stop the yawn that pulls from your chest as he guides you back to the bed.

He slides in beside you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you onto his chest. His fingers trace slow shapes on your back. You listen to his heartbeat until it slows.

You’re almost asleep when you hear his voice again, low and close.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner.”

You don’t answer. You just bury your face in his neck and hold him tighter.

He kisses your hair and whispers, “I’ll do better. I swear.”

He stays awake long after your breathing evens out, still stroking your back, whispering things too soft for you to hear.

Not leaving.

Not this time.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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[roccoparondi]

Something Borrowed (Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Michael Corleone is the last person you expect to see at your best friend Connie’s wedding, and the last thing you expect to happen upon seeing him again after so many years is spending the night together. Maybe, it'll turn into something more.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No hate to Kay, she’s my girl, but wedding scene Michael drives me crazy🤭 She’s off living her best life elsewhere in this. Also, it was a lot of fun writing pre-everything Michael. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex. Light play fighting.

Champagne and giggles overflowed at Connie Corleone’s wedding to Carlo Rizzi. Plenty of red wine was passed around in pitchers for the old guard, of course. For you and the other women conscious of not staining the rainbow of cocktail dresses and flowing gowns that dotted the backyard, you opted for lighter fare in tall flutes that sparkled in the early autumn sun. 

Perhaps you were a bit too enthusiastic about the drink offerings, having already exchanged three empty champagne glasses for ones filled to the brim with glittering gold when the bride engulfed you in a hug. With a delighted laugh, you returned the gesture, kissing her cheek.

“I wanted to say thank you one more time for coming!” Connie exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink from the excitement of the day. “God, it breaks my heart we couldn’t have gotten you a bridesmaid dress in time, but you look gorgeous.”

“Me? Connie, you look like a princess.”

“I feel like one,” she giggled.

“When you see your gift from me—I’m sorry it’s not more, I haven’t—”

“Stop it!” she scolded. “You came all the way from Europe just to be at my wedding. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

You didn’t bother correcting her. Her version of events sounded much nicer than you just got lucky with when the Red Cross put you on a boat home. “Anything for you.”

“I won’t keep you. This is probably the first time you’re eating real food in years. Mama, Sandra, and Theresa made most of it.”

Connie was right. You tried to savor your plate, packed with pasta drowned in homemade sauce, antipasto and crusty bread, and sandwiches that towered with fresh cold cuts. The Corleones knew a thing or two about good food, and had the means to pull the strings for the unfathomable ration books such a feast required.

A familiar yet unexpected voice startled you when your fork pierced a piece of mozzarella. “Is this seat taken?”

“Michael,” you practically gasped, taken aback by his even attending the wedding in the first place, but also how good he looked in his uniform. Cap tucked under his arm, medals and decorations on his chest, the photos you’d seen in the magazine didn’t do him justice. Finding yourself again, you gestured to the empty seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you, but you look great,” he said, his gaze fixed on you as he set his plate and glass down. He took you in, the girl he’d grown up seeing around the house and at school, now, without a doubt, a woman.

“You too, Captain,” you said, nodding toward the double bars on his uniform.

He snickered at your little joke, making you feel a bit more at ease in his presence. “I’m surprised you aren’t in the wedding party.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it until a few days ago. I only just got back to New York on Thursday,” you said.

“You volunteered with the Red Cross, didn’t you?”

You nodded. “I was in England, and then France after the liberation.”

“Clubmobile, right?”

“Did Connie tell you?”

He shook his head, smiling the slightest bit. “All the pretty girls worked the Clubmobile.”

A mortifyingly girlish giggle escaped your lips. You quickly brought your glass to your mouth, though the champagne in it was likely the culprit of your embarrassing reaction to Michael’s compliment. Averting your eyes to the dancing guests, you tried to ignore the warmth that spread across your face.

You allowed yourself to look at him again a few moments later, relieved to find he was still sitting in front of you, amused, maybe even endeared, by you.

“You’re such a jerk, Michael,” you mumbled, only because he was your friend’s older brother, and when you were younger and starry-eyed and figuring out what it meant when your heart wouldn’t quite beat right around a boy, it was him who those tender emotions were kindled in secret toward—until you had your first real boyfriend.

He grinned at your remark, and the two of you ate and caught up in between his various family members stopping by the table to say hello. You weren’t sure what to make of his seeing you before any of them—flattered, a bit confused as well, but he laughed at your jokes and moved his seat closer to yours, so you must have been doing something right when he finally asked, “Do you want to dance?”

“I’d love to,” you said.

The chaos from Johnny Fontaine’s unexpected arrival and impromptu performance subsided when Michael led you out to dance. He held you close, the way soldiers had at the dances the Red Cross put on for servicemen, all to boost morale, or, as the war went on, to offer a break from reality. Among the many rules meant to be followed—and typically broken in one way or another in the haze of war—was to keep some emotional distance from the enlisted men, for your sake and their own, but with bodies so close together, tender touches and soft whispers over songs of twilight and moonbeams, it was tough not to be caught up in romance’s alluring snare.

Even then, with the war behind both of you, something about being in Michael’s arms made you truly understand why some girls risked their assignments for a man. There was something in how he looked at you, different from your childhood together, even from a few minutes prior. You felt breathless despite the slow song you swayed along to.

“Did you like Paris?” he asked quietly, throwing you for a loop.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Paris?”

“You were in France, weren’t you?”

“Not Paris.”

“Where in France were you slinging doughnuts, then?”

“Little villages a few miles out from the front, mostly. More cows than people, but nice enough once the fighting stopped, and it was finally quiet—as quiet as it could get, anyway,” you said. “When Connie wrote you’d been wounded, I couldn’t help but think the worst. Plenty of guys out there—well, that article sure put me at ease. All the girls were jealous when I said I knew you.” You smiled. “I’m glad you’re alright, Michael.”

He glanced at your lips, and for an aching moment you were sure he was going to kiss you, but instead he gave you a smile, one that was real and made your heart flutter nevertheless, but left you disappointed.

“Where are you staying since you’ve been back?” he asked.

He seemed familiar with the hotel you were staying in when you mentioned it, offering to drive you back after the reception ended, and Connie and Carlo left for their honeymoon. 

“It’s only until I can find a boarding hotel that has space,” you said. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be the Barbizon, but I’m not moving back in with my parents.”

“Here’s to that.”

The rest of the day and into the evening, Michael hung around you, unless he was pulled away by members of his family, each instance an annoyance to him. You knew they weren’t exactly supportive of his enlisting, but the situation couldn’t have been that bad, not since he was home, safe and sound at his sister’s wedding.

The Corleones, though endlessly kind to you, always been an odd family, and you learned through your friendship with Connie not to ask too many questions.

But Genco Abbandando was dying, and Vito insisted Michael go with the rest of the Corleone men to pay his respects to the elder. When you offered to take a cab back to your hotel, Michael promised the visit wouldn’t be long, suggesting you wait at the house with his mother until he returned to drive you into the city.

Your foolish desire to spend more time with him led to your waiting in the Corleones’ kitchen for a little over an hour, when you likely would’ve been showered and in bed in your hotel room by the time he arrived back for you, in one hell of a hurry to get you into his car and presumably get away from his family.

“Do you ever think about leaving New York?” he asked when the house was out of view.

You laughed. “Michael, I only just got back.”

“That’s not what I mean. The war—it wasn’t going to be forever, but it let you see what life could be like away from all of this, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did. I’m honestly not sure what I’m going to do with myself now,” you said. “How about you? Are you going back to school? Dartmouth, I mean.”

He nodded. “I start again the spring semester.” At a red light, he glanced over at you. “New England’s nice. Better than French cow country.”

“And do you suppose I could study in the department of pouring coffee and serving doughnuts?”

“You’re smart. I think you have a real future,” he said, the sincerity in his voice startling you. “All of that back there, that’s not for us. It never has been.”

You were silent for a few moments. “I guess you’re right.”

The city lights twinkling in the distance took the place of the stars they blocked out from the sky, growing larger as Michael crossed the bridge into Manhattan, the center of the universe. You’d never tell a soul how you cried just a few days prior upon seeing it again for the first time in years.

Besides his talk of the future, Michael kept the conversation light, and you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. Working the Clubmobile, you learned quickly how to pick up on it, some men laying it on thick while others were irresistibly smooth. Michael could’ve easily just been teasing you, the way a friend’s older brother would, but when he pulled up to your hotel, either your ego or curiosity prompted you to invite him up for a drink.

You sobered up on the drive into the city, enough to remember you didn’t have any drinks in your room. The two of you would have to go to the hotel bar for that, but then you and Michael wouldn’t be alone, not how you wanted, anyway.

To your relief, he agreed.

With Michael in uniform, few questions would be asked by hotel staff as to why you suddenly had a man with you when you checked in on your own. It would have been easy to lie, claim he was your fiance who had only just gotten back Stateside. But you supposed you and Michael already looked the part, walking arm-in-arm through the lobby without an issue.

Your confidence soared on the elevator ride up to your modest room, which you let Michael into, knowing he wouldn’t judge the state of your accommodations.

“Mind if I make myself comfortable?” You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your blouse from where it’d been tucked in your skirt. Slipping out of your heels, you sighed softly in relief.

“It’s your place,” he said, setting his coat over the chair in the corner and loosening his tie.

You grabbed his cap from where he set it down and placed it on your head, tilting the brim over your face a bit and posing in front of him with a hand on your hip. “How do I look?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, giving you a once over, “I swear I saw you pinned up in some guy’s tent looking just like that.”

You laughed, taking the cap off and flinging it aside. “Oh, I don’t even know why I invited you up here!” Your laughter faded as something in your stomach turned sour, the situation feeling achingly too good to be true. Alone in a hotel room with Michael, the two of you entirely capable of making your own mistakes on the off chance he wanted you too. “Or why you even agreed to come up.”

“I didn’t come up here to drink.”

“No, you did it to be nice, because we’ve known each other for so long…” You sighed, sitting next to him. “I always figured you thought of me as your kid sister’s annoying little friend or something.”

He shook his head, saying your name softly in either protest or reassurance. His hand cupped your face as he turned it toward him, his thumb rubbing soft circles in your cheek. “Not for a long time. Especially not tonight.”

You kissed him, hands gripping his shoulders, closing your eyes as you melted in his embrace. Your skin feverish at his touch, you shuddered when his hand slipped up your untucked blouse until his fingertips reached your bra.

To say you hadn’t fantasized about Michael would have been an unconvincing lie to anyone who dared ask, but even in your wildest dreams, it was never quite like this, so bold and irreverent in the face of the tradition the two of you had just spent the day celebrating.

“I came up here because you’re beautiful,” he confessed against your lips, “because you’re the only familiar face I saw at my sister’s wedding that didn’t make me wish I were somewhere else.”

Silencing him with another kiss, your fingers raked through his soft black hair as your body pressed flush against his, unsure if you could withstand hearing more of his tender words without falling to pieces. You couldn’t, not so early in the night, but his desire grew difficult to ignore when he pulled you onto his lap. The pressure against your pussy made you moan, and with a hasty desperation, you shimmied out of your panties as he unbuckled his belt, freeing his hard cock within a few moments.

You slipped a hand between the two of you, pumping his length, feeling the way it twitched at your touch and gasping when Michael’s hips bucked. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a whisper of an intent to devour you.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Need to feel you.”

Lifting your hips, you whimpered upon feeling his head brush your clit as you positioned yourself, slowly lowering as he filled you, cock throbbing against your walls that clenched around him. He assuaged the pain of taking all of him with a gentle kiss and soft praises, urging you to take your time, that you had all night together.

All night. The promise he would stay, at least until the morning, sent a teasing wave of pleasure through you. Gripping his shoulders, you tried to keep a steady pace as you rode him, wanted to show him that staying would be worth his while. He’d been right in the car, you wouldn’t be a virginal, wedding white bride. The both of you had seen and experienced too much to be considered innocent any longer, but it was something you shared, that no one else from that day would have understood.

Your thighs ached as you neared your climax, desperately chasing it despite the exhaustion that was creeping up on you. Crying out in frustration, you buried your face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

“I’m close,” you whined. “Michael, I—”

“I’ve got you,” he assured you, his hands making their home on your hips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him guide your body, his thrusts doing most of the work while you rocked against him, seeking the friction against your clit that would bring you to release. It caught in your throat, a broken groan from your lips to his ears as you came, clenching around him, pleasure rolling through you, rattling your body like thunder. You barely caught your breath when he came, shuddering against you, practically cradling you against him as he filled you.

With a whimper, you lifted yourself off of him and rolled back onto the bed. Placing your hand on your chest, you felt your rapidly beating heart beneath your fingertips, focusing on it as it slowed the following minute or so and ignoring the stickiness between your legs, the evidence you slept with your best friend’s older brother. 

Michael leaned over, brushing back the hair that stuck to your face. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

“Looking through the classifieds for a job,” you said honestly.

“Wanna put it off for a day?”

“With what money, Michael?”

“I’ll give you a line of credit.”

You grabbed one of the pillows from behind you, throwing it at him with a laugh. “Jerk!”

He grinned, pushing it aside to grab for one of your arms. You put up a weak fight, your breathless laughter giving away his almost certain win.

Having pinned you down beneath him, he pressed you for an answer. “So?” He kissed you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I guess I can clear my schedule for a dashing war hero like you.”

“Dashing, I like the sound of that,” he murmured, bringing his lips to yours again, softly, with a tenderness that promised more for tomorrow, and even the day after, if you’d have him. 

You smiled. “Me too.”

[emastrangee]

Red's Got a Fan

---

She sees him from across the training hall.

“Red!”

She waves. With both hands. Enthusiastically. Like she forgot they were already in the same building ten minutes ago.

Tim freezes halfway through a sentence, glancing up from a mission brief like he’s trying to figure out why someone’s shouting his code name like a golden retriever who’s been left at daycare.

Wally, who’s standing next to her, just grins.

“Okay, I gotta ask—what’s going on there?”

“What?” she blinks.

“You greet him like he’s coming back from war every time he walks in a room.”

She stares, confused. Still smiling.

“Because he is! I mean—not war-war, just…”

She trails off. “He’s nice.”

Bart zips by with a snort.

“Red’s got a fan!”

“Shut up, I’m just excited,” she mutters, cheeks turning pink. “You guys don’t wave at people?”

Kory chuckles from the side.

“Not like that, sweetheart.”

Dick smirks at Tim, who now has his entire focus on pretending he doesn’t hear any of this conversation.

“Someone’s got a fanclub.”

“I’m just training her,” Tim says flatly, flipping a page in his file.But the tips of his ears are red.

Later… when they’re alone

You’re sitting beside him, sipping water after drills.

You glance over. “Sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Tim blinks, caught off guard.

“What?”

“Back there. Everyone was joking. I wasn’t trying to make it weird. I’m just happy when you show up, that’s all.”She shrugs.

"It’s nice having a friend.”

That hits harder than it should.

Tim stares at you for a second too long.

Then:

“You didn’t embarrass me.”

You glance over again.

He’s looking straight ahead, not at you.

But his voice is softer than before.

“I’m… glad you’re here.”

You smile. “Thanks, Red.”

And he doesn’t correct you.

Not yet.

A few days later...

Training started fifteen minutes ago.

Tim doesn’t usually care who shows up when.

He’s precise, efficient, on-task — but he’s not petty about punctuality.

Still…

he keeps glancing at the door.

She’s usually early.

She usually waves when she walks in — both hands.

And she always says, “Hey Red!” like it’s the highlight of her day.

But the door stays closed.

Bart’s goofing off with Wally.

Kory and Donna are sparring mid-air.

Dick is reviewing stats.

And Tim?

Tim keeps checking the time

Five more minutes.

Still no sign of her.

His chest feels... off. Like it’s missing a beat.

He tells himself it’s fine. She’s fine. Maybe she overslept. Maybe she’s sick. Maybe—

She walks in.

Hair damp from a rushed shower. Hoodie too big.

She’s holding a protein bar with her teeth and trying to zip her boot with one hand.

The second she looks up—

her face lights up.

Double wave. Full smile.

“Hey, Red!”

Tim stares at her.

And for a second,

he realizes the air got easier to breathe.

His jaw relaxes.

His grip on the datapad loosens.

He doesn’t smile. Not yet.

But his voice comes out a little warmer than it was five seconds ago.

“You’re late.”

“I know!” she laughs, bounding over like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I set my alarm and everything, but I think I dreamed I was awake, which is honestly very on-brand.”

He blinks “...Right.”

She beams at him like she didn’t just spend the last hour convinced everyone was mad at her for being behind.

And Tim —

Red Robin, boy genius, strategist, keeper of emotional distance —

realizes with quiet dread:

I missed her.

I missed her smile. Her voice. Her stupid wave.

And she doesn’t even know what that means to me.

Mini scene;

Dick’s sitting beside Kory in the Tower lounge, scrolling through something on his tablet while she files her nails with casual grace.

Across the room, Reader is talking to Tim.

Well — talking at him, mostly.

She’s explaining something about a vending machine conspiracy and why she believes that snacks choose their people, not the other way around.

Tim doesn’t interrupt.

He’s pretending to read something.

But his eyes keep flicking up.

Kory watches them for a beat. Then leans toward Dick, voice low.

“It’s already happening.”

Dick glances up. “Mmhmm.”

Kory smiles. Not teasing — just… delighted.

“Do you think she knows?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think he knows?”

“Absolutely not.”

They both sip their drinks at the same time, like this is the most entertaining thing they’ve seen all week.

Then Kory adds, softly:

“He’s letting someone in again. I think that matters.”

Dick nods, quieter now.

“She’s good for him. I can see it.”

Kory looks over again — Reader is now leaning slightly closer, nudging Tim with her elbow. He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t move away.

“He’s smiling,” she says.

“He is.”

[dduane]

Dear DD, I'm wondering if you could show examples (from your own work or otherwise) of what really, *really* rough drafts of fiction writing look like. I'm talking the earliest stages of the process that normally most people don't show to the public; whenever I look around online, what folks seem to post as "WIP" samples are usually more like 80-90% polished excerpts.

While my brain logically knows these are the late-stage stuff, it has an ill-advised habit of trying to draft to that 80-90 level of quality from the get-go--I think it might help to see what the equivalent of "thumbnails" or "sketches/doodles" look like in writing, especially from someone who's been At The Work for a long time. Hopefully it's an alright request! I understand if for various reasons you can't.

I'm more than willing to show people my stuff in process, every now and then. ...But in my case, your initial query poses an unusual challenge. And it's this:

After pushing fifty years of doing this work (or indeed, you had it right, this Work) for money, everything comes out looking fairly polished.

And this can't be helped. Once you've been doing this work for long enough—once doing it well starts being the thing responsible for keeping you and your family fed—you will inevitably (eventually) evolve the ability to exude smooth-looking prose at minutes' notice. Over the years your internal prose filters will get trained into being increasingly fine-meshed... and the longer this goes on, the more flatly they'll refuse to let clunky stuff out onto the page any more. You don't really even think about it. You just keep refining a given phrase/sentence/paragraph in your head until it feels acceptable.

After a couple/few decades, this ability becomes an ever more finely-honed survival characteristic. You can no sooner emit actively coarse prose (without trying purposefully to do so, which is another story...) than you can stop breathing for minutes at a time without suffering the consequences. (shrug) It's just the way your life experience has taught your Drafting Brain to conduct itself, going forward.

Now... this doesn't mean at all that the drafted material, be it ever so polished-looking, is necessarily what you intended (or needed!) to write. Oh no. I could this very day show you some prose that by my standards is still really rough, because I wrote it five minutes ago... and you'd look at it and be very unlikely to be able to see what my problem was with it.* Whereas I'm sitting staring at it and muttering "Dammit, something's missing here. No idea what. I'll come back to it tomorrow."

And indeed I wrote something about three hours ago that (as I got it onto the page in its earliest form) left me literally gasping about how obtuse I'd been about the situation and emotions described in it, as recently as early this afternoon before I had lunch. It was a scene that had been missing from something I'm completing at the moment—indeed not merely missing but completely uncontemplated—and as it spooled itself out on the page all I could do was shake my head at my own idiocy at having missed the opportunity earlier, while I was nailing down the plot.

And I would love to show you that piece of prose right this minute, so that you could see what minutes-old prose from me looks like. Except it's seriously spoilery, and I refuse to sabotage a larger work by allowing out any material that's so loaded... and which viewed out of context would deprive it of most of its power. So, as we say around here, 'Sorry not sorry.'" Though I promise I'll come back to this and talk about it "in the clear" later, when that work's published.

...Anyway. The best advice I have for you just now is that trying to make your filters-in-training less effective is—to put it as gently as Captain Amelia might—a mistake.

That urge to have the first draft—or the "zero draft" as some are calling it these days: I use this myself—be as good as possible is frankly a lifesaver. Indulging it, sentence by sentence and paragraph by paragraph, will only leave you with less frustration, less editing and re-editing, and way less Flat Forehead Syndrome over time. You are going in the right direction, even if it makes you feel like you're losing valuable time.

Your brain's attempts to draft to the highest possible level are not ill-advised. Indulge the urge to get your drafting more right, even if it makes you suffer a bit. No one ever said this writing lark was going to be all fun. (And if they did, they lied to you.) Also: hunting through other people's WIP excerpts, be they rougher than yours or more polished, in a search for something that your excerpts or drafting style should or could theoretically look like, will do you no good in the long term... and may do you harm. All you're likely to be left with, after you haven't found anything useful in the wake of the shoulder-peering, is a sense—almost certainly an inaccurate one—that you're somehow doing it wrong.**

You're not. You're finding your own way, at your own speed. This is the Writer's Journey. (As opposed to the Hero's, which I have characters shouting at me about at the moment.) (eyeroll) As you continue going your own way, your drafting will gradually pick up speed without losing quality. ...And don't neglect your outside reading. You need to be reading outside your own genre and your own century to pick up, as it were, new (or old) plugins for your filters.

Anyway. If (as it seems) you're in this for the long term: get right down here with the rest of us and suffer your way (briefly) through it. We all agonize unnecessarily over the effectiveness of our process from time to time. The only cure is to say "fuck that noise" to the back of your Writer's Mind, and get back to the actual writing, where these problems are worked out in the only way that counts.

So: go do your thing, and let the chips fall where they may. And I hope this has helped! Let me know, over time, how things go.

*This situation is also, BTW, a bit of a problem for a writer in a career stage like mine. In an inversion of the usual rule—where "the Perfect becomes the enemy of the (Merely) Good"—the "Really Not Bad At All" becomes the enemy of the "Could Have Been Way Better If You'd Given It A 'Should I Maybe Sweat Over This A Little More?' Pass". Because the Not Bad At All genuinely isn't... but if you're not careful, you stop seeing where to kick it into the next stage when you're distracted by all the other junk going on in life.

**...But this is one of the downsides of the community, and communality, of the writing life online. We wind up endlessly looking over each others' shoulders to try to find answers that—in many cases—were already sitting between us and the screen, on the keyboard.

(And now a suggestion for those who find these occasional excursions into the Advice Barrel useful: at various folks' request, I have a Ko-Fi now. If you find the advice useful and you feel so inclined, send me a sign.) :)

[glasvera]

I have zero idea if this how to send requests lmao but how abt an iron man x healer!reader where they have a hard time aiming upwards to heal him (totally not me) and eventually he notices so he decides to make it easy for them and comes down to them personally :3 this happened to me a few games ago and it was adorable 😭😭

(Yes, this works perfectly fine for sending in requests!!)

As an Adam Warlock main, I'm spoiled by my auto-aiming, bouncing heals, so every time I play Invisible Woman I feel this in my bones.

Still

Iron Man x GN!Reader

Description: Things are looking dire, even with your team giving it their all, but thankfully there's one man that can turn the tide of battle... with your help and the help of Sue Storm, of course.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Mostly fluff! There's a bit of a battle and some brief descriptions of injury and pain (getting shot at but not piercing past armor/suits), but nothing too graphic I hope.

A/N: Originally I wasn't going to stray too far from the prompt, but for some reason I was itching to write at least a little bit of a battle scene. Trying to expand my horizons beyond fluff and smut and all that.

Word Count: 1.7k

It was your job. Your job! You had some of the most potent healing capabilities out of anyone you had seen in these battles you fought day after day. Under the right conditions, you alone could change the course of a fight. There was so much power crackling at your fingertips, so much potential to mend and soothe and reverse…

…That is, assuming you can aim those powers. Thankfully, you weren’t the only medic on the field, and they seemed to be taking care of your more mobile allies well enough. Doesn’t mean you don’t try.

You were incredible on the ground; of that, there was no doubt. Buildings could topple, crumble, crash around you, and lasers could be firing from all angles, but you would still persist, still heal, still fulfill your duty. Sweat could pour down your forehead and the salt would sting your eyes, and yet you would never falter once.

Still, nobody is perfect. When someone is that effective on the field, it only makes sense that they would become the focus of enemy fire, and eventually, something is bound to hit. You see Castle’s turret assembling in the distance and prepare for the worst.

“Punisher’s got a turret! Find cove-augh!” Your warning cuts off when several bullets embed themself into the shoulder of your suit, and you hiss at the sharp ache that echoes from the site of your new wounds. The durable material is strong enough to keep them from piercing the skin, but that doesn’t make the pain much better. When you try to roll your arm, to get back in the fight, a searing agony burns at the edge of your clavicle. There’s definitely a clicking sensation that wasn’t there before. 

Heaving a breath, you duck behind a crumbling wall, clutching your arm. Healing energy courses through your fingertips and finds its way to your shoulder, and you tense and shudder, gritting your teeth as the injury reverses itself. It’s never been the most pleasant thing, but it works, and it’s fast, fast enough that it’s only seconds before you’re back in the fight.

Thankfully, it seems your callout didn’t go unheeded. The rest of your team peeks over cover, alternating their fire towards that damn turret, bringing a sigh of relief to your lips. If any stray shots graze them, you’re quick to wave your hand and reverse it in an instant from the safety of your hiding spot. Still, it’s difficult to find a proper opening as the fight heads towards a stalemate.

“We can’t stay like this forever!” you hear your co-healer, Sue Storm, stress from somewhere several feet away. “If they keep us pinned here, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of them collapse on us.”

She’s right. Slowly drilling damage into that turret won’t be effective enough if the rest of your enemies can take advantage and push forward. Your team needs something big, and fast.

Enter Tony Stark. Enter Iron Man.

If you were the pillar holding up your allies, he was the bulldozer tearing through the enemy. He was a force to be reckoned with in that suit. Nearly unstoppable.

“Just keep them off me. I’ve got this.” 

That confident voice fills your heart with hope. The whirring of propulsion jets whizzes past you, whipping your hair into your face as you duck out of the way, but you do your best to follow him with starstruck eyes and a beaming smile.

It wasn't your best-kept secret, your crush on Tony. Adam Warlock nearly outed you once when he described you “having a certain glow” about you whenever you were near the charismatic philanthropist. Poor guy was absolutely blindsided when you nearly jumped on him to get him to shut up.

He zips about, dodging bullet after bullet. Sue keeps him shielded while you focus on healing your allies on the ground, occasionally throwing a few healing rays towards Iron Man that never quite seem to find purchase. Still, they're able to take the pressure off of Tony just long enough--

“MAXIMUM PULSE!”

Even behind the crumbling wall that covers you, the heat and blinding light hit you in an instant. It’s deafening. Sue withdraws her shields to cover your team as the shockwave blasts across the battlefield. Rubble clatters across the translucent barrier over your heads. Once the dust settles, everything falls silent save for the sounds of exasperated breaths and the telltale rumble of propulsion jets, but even that is muffled by the lingering ringing in your ears.

Finally, you venture a peek. The area is absolutely decimated thanks to Stark's weaponry. Punisher's turret is nothing but scraps, you think you see the remnants of a few of Hawkeye's experimental arrows, and a few pieces of one of Rocket’s beacons lie scattered about. The enemy team themselves are nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, the exact opposite is true of your team, and a quick once-over on the ground confirms that everyone is alive and accounted for.

Your smile only widens as relief washes over you.

“He did it!” you exclaim, allowing yourself a pump of your fist into the air. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from your chest, leaving you light as a feather, and you smile so wide that your cheeks start to hurt.

“We did it. I can't take all of the credit here.” Iron Man's voice suddenly behind you nearly has you leaping out of your skin. Damn tinnitus. “Even if I wouldn’t mind the praise of doing it all by myself,” he adds jokingly. 

The rest of your team gather their bearings, groaning a bit as they stand but otherwise hale and whole, and before Sue goes to inspect them for any lingering injuries, she gives you a knowing smirk. “I'll take care of these guys. Why don't you give the star of the show a more… personal touch?”

Your eyes widen and she giggles behind her hand, refusing to elaborate further as she ushers the rest of them away and leaves the two of you alone. You clear your throat awkwardly.

He hovers in his suit in front of you when you turn to face him, heat creeping up your chest and face. The faceplate of his helmet retracts, and you’re greeted with that familiar, handsome mug that regards you warmly.

“Promise I’ll sit still this time,” he quips.

Ah, so your efforts had not gone unnoticed. You’re not sure whether to be touched or embarrassed by that. A nervous hand scratches at the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I…” you pause, tittering shyly as your eyes flicker up to his and then quickly back away. “You’re pretty fast. Hard to keep up with you sometimes.”

That earns you a chuckle, and he slowly lowers down to stand properly on the ground. Now that he’s standing still in front of you, you can see that he didn’t come out of the battle entirely unscathed. It’s nothing serious, thankfully, and there doesn’t seem to be any blood, but you venture a step closer, examining the dents and dings on his armor that could potentially be causing any internal damage underneath.

When he sees the power beginning to glow at your fingertips, he nods at your hands. “Would it be easier if I removed my armor, or--?”

“N-No, this is fine,” you respond quickly, giving him a feeble smile. “I can just reverse the damage, so it’s honestly easier if the site of the injury remains unchanged.”

He huffs out a quick laugh. “Got it. I won’t pretend to understand this magic stuff, and I certainly won’t question your expertise.”

Your smile grows a bit wider at that. “I appreciate it. Fair warning, this might hurt a little.”

Before he gets the chance to properly protest, the energy surges forth, and in that tiny bubble you reverse time as armor shifts back into place and flesh begins to lose its bruising. Tony’s eyes go wide and his lips press into a flat line, desperately trying not to let out anything more than a discontented grunt as he’s forced to relive the pain in reverse for a fleeting second. Such are the drawbacks when it comes to the nature of your powers, but no one can argue the effectiveness of it.

At least it distracts you from the closeness you two share, even if you’re not eager to break it.

“That should be good, but…” Your voice trails off as you admire the shining red metal, examining it for anything you might have missed. There are a few trivial scuffs here and there. Feeling slightly braver, you rest your palm directly against his armor and trace along the scrapes and chips that linger from the suit’s everyday use. “There you go. Good as new.”

You glance up at his face and blink in surprise when you find him watching you intently. Perhaps your eyes fail you, or you’ve been staring at crimson for too long, but you swear his face is ever so slightly flushed. The healing energy fades, and your fingertips rest gingerly against his plated chest.

“Fascinating,” he breathes. “Does that work on wrinkles, too?”

A snort leaves your nostrils. Shaking your head, you reply, “Probably not. At least, I’ve never tried, but my power works in real time. I’d have to be at it for days, weeks, months, even.”

“An excuse to spend more time with you? Perish the thought,” he jests, leaving you to part your lips softly agape in shock. You never realized that he enjoyed his time with you as well. 

“Oh, and…” he adds, tapping a finger to his smirking lips, “You missed a spot.”

With your heart thumping in your chest, you decide to play it safe and take his words literally as your hand tentatively rises to meet his face. He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your fingers before taking your hand in his, guiding it away from his face and leaning forward to claim his real prize. His lips meet yours tenderly and for only a fleeting moment, but it’s enough to leave you stunned and speechless before him. “There. Now I’m all better.”

[muniimyg]

3: the favourite snacks // series m.list

note: ohhh... it's kinda cute here ;) how are we liking them? lmk ur thoughts! oc's moment to shine is coming soon !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

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//

As usual, Jungkook interrupts your reading time. Before, it didn’t mean much. Before, he would quietly sit beside you and mind his own business until he got out of his mind bored. Then, he would bug you and you would have no choice but to put your book down. You didn't mind it before. Before, it was whatever.

However, the scene is different today.

Today, he ran to the library after his lecture and couldn’t find you. Disappointed, Jungkook turned his heels to head home… But as fate would have it; he found you along the way.

At the sight of you, right then and there, Jungkook decided that this was his favourite season. 

The season of you.

How could it not be when this… You… Are just so beautiful? As you sit on the grass, leaning against the tree trunk, the wind gently blows cherry blossom petals around you. It’s beautiful. It looks magical.. Like it was fake. I mean, it had to be right? You look so perfect. It looks like those made-up scenes in movies. Jungkook rubs his eyes to make sure it isn’t. This is real life. 

This is you. 

However, his dream-like state of mind is shaken awake when he approaches you, and you refuse to give him the time of day.

First, he stands in front of you and greets you warmly. You ignore him. Then, he sits down beside you and nudges you. Even though your body moves to his push, you still remain silent. Now, this is his last attempt before he loses his mind. 

Jungkook inches closer to you. You sit still, doing your best not to move away. You have to stay put. You have to stand your ground! But life gets 10 times more difficult because he smells so good. As he leans forward, he fixes your hair, and you're awestruck. He tucks your hair behind your ear, sending chills down your spine. You swear it’s just the cool breeze, but you know in your heart it’s him. 

He makes your heart race. 

He smells good.

He looks good, too.

It's no wonder your body betrays you. You squirm from his touch, unable to hold yourself still. It’s gentle and light—but it’s just so ticklish! As you react, Jungkook offers a smug smile. In return, you push his hand away and huff at him. 

“I’m not talking to you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops. 

“What? Why?” His mind spins with confusion. Meanwhile, you keep a straight face and go back to reading. “What did I do?”

Keeping your book up, you answer him without really answering him.

“You know what you did.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What could he have done? The last time he saw you was a few days ago. You two met up to have a quick study session together. It was the same routine! What could he have done wrong since then? Rather, what did he do wrong then?

“... I’m not really sure what I did wrong… Can I have a hint or something?” His tone is genuine and curious, making it harder for you to dish-out your anger.

So, you don’t respond.

Impatient and annoyed at your pettiness, he grabs your book and lowers it to see your face. 

Infuriated, you whine. “Hey! I’m reading—”

“—And I’m trying to talk to you.” Jungkook snaps. "Come on, ___. What's going on? Talk to me, please."

You glare at him, completely baffled at his audacity. Does he seriously think that he can play dumb? He can't. You won't let him.

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

With an eyebrow raised, he speaks out his thoughts. “Why not? I don’t think I did anything wrong—”

“You lied to me!” You blurt. “You lied to me, and you know it. I looked so stupid!”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry. 

Lied to you?

About what?

He tries to run everything he has ever said to you back. He tries to remember everything from the moment you two first met to this very moment now… Every story he has ever said and every tiny side comment—yet, he can’t think of a time he was dishonest. He had no reason to lie to you! Talking to you is so easy because you’re such a good listener. If anything, talking to you has compelled him to be more honest… Jungkook reflects and concludes: no. He is not a liar. Besides, it’s not like he was hiding anything—

“You can skate,” you reveal. 

Jungkook blinks.

“Who told you?”

Fed up, you shove your book to Jungkook's chest. He lets it hit him and drop before reaching for your hands. Quickly, you swipe them away from him. No way is he holding your hand! Not after all the crap he just pulled.

Crossing your arms, you begin to confront him. “Yoongi and Jin were drinking last night. They called me and teased me about how dumb I was… How naive I was because you knew how to skate the entire time! I took the time to teach you how to skate because you kept falling—a-and to what? Find out you were pretending the entire time? W-why would you do that? Why would you lie to me?” 

Oh, it’s bad. 

It’s pathetically horrible how Jungkook is so into you right now.

It melts his heart how you could be this serious and hurt over this little fib. This has to be the cutest thing you could ever do… Be mad at him for wanting to hold your hand just because he was mischievous about it. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to tell you that you’re cute and the entire thing was just a stupid boy-coded play… But, considering how bruise-hearted you’re acting… Jungkook thinks twice about it. 

Then, he decides to give in and abide by your needs. 

Answers.

You want answers and answers is what he’ll give you. 

“First of all: you’re not dumb,” Jungkook reassures you. You make a sour face and shake your head at him.

Groaning, you tell him: “Yes, I am! I looked like a total idiot trying to teach you how to skate when you’re literally a hockey player—”

“Second, I’m not a hockey player,” he chuckles. 

With a half smile, you return: “Right… You’re just a liar.”

Okay. 

… He deserved that. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or do… Honestly, what are you supposed to say or do? The issue is ridiculous but at the same time, he understands you feel deceived. So… now what? 

Honesty. 

“Okay… I admit it,” Jungkook sighs, accepting his defeat. “I lied to you about not knowing how to skate. I’m a liar. I’m sorry—”

“Ah ha!” you point your finger at him. Then, you poke his chest. “That's why I’m not talking to you—”

“But I’m apologizing—”

You shush him. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Like... Oh my goodness, Jungkook! I’m so embarrassed! It’s bad enough that—”

“—That I like you?” Jungkook interrupts you. You’re tongue-tied, unable to find words to deny or confirm. With shaky eyes, he does his best to look at you with the sincerest gaze. “I refuse to apologize for my feelings."

"It's not about your feelings—"

Jungkook plays smart. He's all in anyways. "Okay. Fine, it's not about my feelings. It's about yours, okay? ___, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to hold your hand… Is it that bad? Am I that awful for wanting to hold your hand?”

Slowly, you shake your head. You didn't meant to make him feel bad about his feelings for you! That wasn't the point. The point was... Well..

Oh, god.

What was the point again?

Your words beat your thoughts. “N-no… I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Jungkook looks at you softly, and it makes your heart stumble. Booping your nose, his lips curve into a smirk.

“It’s called flirting, dummy.”

“Hmph,” you pout, turning your face away from him. Under your breath, you mutter, “... So you’re calling me dumb too, huh?”

Jungkook panics. “W-what? No! That’s not what I—”

Without much thought, he grabs your hand and squeezes it. You turn to him, eyeing the way he’s holding your hand. You send him a look, and immediately, he drops your hand and puts it up in surrender. Then, he reaches for his backpack and unzips it. 

“Look! I know my apology doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it’s true. I am so sooo sorry, ___. I’ll deal with the guys. I’ll tell them to shut up and drop it. You’re not dumb—okay?” Jungkook digs inside his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag filled with various items. “Snacks! I was at the convenience store... Then, I suddenly thought of you. So, I bought your favourite snacks. Then I headed to the library but then you weren’t there… And now I’m here—a-and there’s so many! So many snacks, ___! There’s banana milk, some Yakult, and oh, I even bought that cup with the fancy ice—”

“... Is that pocky?” You shift, taking a small peek.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He nods, shaking the bag in front of you. “Almond crush… Cos I have a crush on you—” You sit up and send him a warning look. Jungkook leans his body back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay! Sorry! Almond crush is for me… The strawberry pocky is for you… Your favourite, cutie.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give in.

Your heart can refuse Jungkook, but it remains powerless against strawberry pocky. Jungkook takes out your strawberry pocky first. You’re drooling at this point… Before you can hold your hand out and ask for the pocky, Jungkook already opens it for you. When he successfully gets through the box and rips the wrapper, he offers the pocky to you as a peace offering. 

Unspoken, he knows he’s forgiven the minute you take it from his hands. 

Yet, he plays it safe. He waits for you to get a few bites in and for the smile on your face to appear. Once it does, he smiles cheekily at you. 

“Still mad at me?”

Between chews, you reply, “Let me think..."

"Whatever you need to do, my smart girl."

You shove a few more pieces of pocky in your mouth. After you chew and he laughs at you, you voice your decision.

"Nope... Not mad at you anymore. We’re good.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he reaches for the top of your head. He ruffles your hair and continues to laugh to himself… Perhaps, it wasn’t just about the lie. You were hangry. Mentally, he notes to always keep strawberry pocky in his bag. In case of future screw-ups or of hangry ___ moments. 

When he’s sure your mood has improved completely, he opens his pocky. 

You watch as he does so. Jungkook takes a bite out of his pocky stick and moans in approval. As he eats, he takes a moment to look out at the view of the rest of the field. Jungkook takes it all in. Other students are sitting on the grass, under the other cherry blossom trees, and even playing. It's a calm late afternoon, and he can't help but think about how much he likes this moment.

How the raspberry lemonade sky is peering over the horizon. How you're beside him. How cool the spring breeze is... It just feels so good to be with you.

“This is a nice spot!" He tells you. "I like the view. I like you—"

"You're ruining my peace," you complain. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the pocky. "But yeah, it's a nice spot. I found it while I had that whole week of avoiding you."

Jungkook laughs. "So I found your new hideout? Sorry, not sorry."

You shrug and point at the Yakult inside the bag. He digs in the bag and takes it out. Like the pocky, he prepares it before giving it to you. When he hands you the drink, you take a sip.

"Can this be our spot?"

You choke.

Jungkook's shoulders drop, finding it hilarious and also a little offending at the same time. Was it really this hard to flirt with you? Are you this childish? He never noticed.

It's annoying that his feelings only grow even more.

"Oh my god," he moves closer to you and pats your back. You take another sip to help relieve your throat. As you recover, he lectures you. "Fine. You can have this damn spot."

When he moves back to his spot, you sit and stare at him. Jungkook continues to eat his pocky. Moving on, he pushes the conversation forward.

"Ahh, I forgot how good this is. Almond is the best.” 

You tilt your head at him, wondering what it’s like to be completely wrong about a simple thing. It's like all your pressing thoughts dismissed themselves.

“Strawberry is better,” you claim. You say it rather simply. You say it honestly.

Jungkook copies your head tilt. 

“Strawberry is overhyped,” he argues with you. “Almond is more expensive. The ingredients are more worth it. It’s not just a fruit-flavored cream—”

You huff at him. “Strawberry is not overhyped! Just because it’s cheaper doesn’t mean it’s worth less—”

“Actually… It does.”

The anger that you had earlier? The one that went away? Yeah… It’s back. 

Fuming, you begin your rant. “Strawberry is classic. Almond was made because people got bored of chocolate, so they added almonds to trick people into thinking it was completely different… It's the same thing! Strawberry is an original flavour like—” As you explain, you put another stick in between your lips and suck on the cream. “Mhmm! It’s the best—”

Your words cut off. 

Not because Jungkook retaliates. 

Not because you’re chewing your pocky. 

No. 

It’s because Jungkook dips his head low and takes a bite out of the other end of your pocky stick. He pulls away rather quickly, but it happens… 

It happened. 

His lips brushed against yours. 

Oh my god. 

Jeon Jungkook kissed you! 

Wide-eyed, you pause for a second. Then, you panic. “W-what—”

“Mhmm.. I guess it’s okay,” Jungkook swallows his bite. “I think I still like—”

“Y-you kissed me!” you exclaim, bringing your hands to your lips. 

Jungkook blinks at you.

“No, I didn’t.”

“J-Jungkook," you breathe, “are you gaslighting me? You literally just kissed me!”

Your mind is spinning.

How the heck did that just happen? One second you’re defending strawberry pocky with your life, and the next… You feel more alive than ever. Jungkook has always been sneaky, but you never expected this. It was so innocent yet so mischievous—you have no words!

Perhaps, your inability to explain how you truly feel is what frustrates you and causes you to sound so naggy. 

On the other hand, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. He has no issues facing the repercussions. In his heart, he knows he’s just following it… So, why does it matter? This is him taking a chance. This is him… Winning. 

This is you folding. 

“___, that was not a kiss.” Jungkook reasons with you. “Why? Are you upset because you wanted it to be?"

No words. 

"It's okay to be disappointed," he adds. "I'm disappointed you don't want to share this spot with me. The library is boring as fuck so I don't really want it to be our spot, you know—"

“Y-you’ve got to be k-kidding me!” you cry. “Leave the library alone, you hater."

"... Okay?" Jungkook snickers. "You're greedy today. Do you always have to be right? Is that a thing I should know about you, future girlfriend?"

"Future what?" your eyes bulge. "O-okay, fine. Fine! You win. It wasn’t a kiss. It was horrible anyway. I expected more—”

Jungkook squints at you. “We didn’t even kiss, and you’re already accusing me of being a bad kisser? Damn, at least let me prove you wrong.”

Shaking your head profusely. “T-that’s not what I’m saying! I’m sure you’re an excellent kisser—in fact, I should brace myself, right? B-because you’re probably going to kiss me one of these day, and I’ll—”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You pause. 

“W-what?”

“You heard the question,” Jungkook inches closer to you. In your mind, your body stiffens… In reality, you’re melting. Your body slightly leans in towards him and Jungkook has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Y-you already did.”

“You said it wasn't a kiss... Who's the liar now?"

You stay silent. Partly because you have no words and partly because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't speak.

Jungkook presses on. "You’re not answering my question…”

Silence.

Then, as he speaks again, you realize you're stuck either way… You’re too shy to actually say the words, but he will take your silence, and find the truth. Or... You can say it for yourself. So, okay.

Fine.

You give in.

“Y-you can do what you want. I just… I thought you already kissed me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you for the second time this afternoon. “No, silly… If I kissed you, it would’ve been like this—”

Before you know it, it happens. 

It really happens. 

Soft, slow, and sweetly—Jeon Jungkook kisses you.

He kisses you under the cherry blossom tree with the raspberry lemonade sky above, and the spring breeze. He kisses you until you can't breathe, and your heart falls for him. Jungkook kisses you in your spot.

The spot.

Yours and his.

[luvs4haechan]

Hiiii

Could you write a fluff fic about Mark and the reader where they're engaged and it's some romantic scene where they slowdance in their apartment or somthn? Thank you, no worries if u don't want to!

slow dancing

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff!!

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: mark x fem!reader

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵/𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: established relationship, literally so much fluff, no use of y/n i think

𝘸𝘤: 1200

masterlist

the computer screen had become blinding, the coffee mugs on your desk had piled up, and it was fair to say you'd had enough. exam season and every day cramming had definitely gotten the better of you. picking an academically challenging degree seemed like a good idea at the time, but now - staring at the equations on the screen - you realise it might not have been the best choice.

in the midst of you debating whether an engineering degree is worth all this, your phone made the familiar noise of a new message. sluggishly moving your eyes from the computer you read the message. "i know you’ve been studying for too long. you need a break. come over?" it said. seeing the words from your boyfriend caused a smile to spread over your face, no matter how much the oppisite you were feeling right now. you realised a long time ago, that mark seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. keeping that in mind, you closed your laptop and got ready to head to his place.

after a short walk, you were face to face with the front door of mark's apartment. you knocked a few times and the door immediately opened.

"have you been waiting by the door? what was that?" you said, a confused expression on your face.

"no?" he looked at you, just as confused. however, your expression stayed the same. "dude, come on," he took your hand and pulled you inside. this caused a smile to break out on your face, something he never failed to achieve. before you could react, mark's arms were around you and you were pulled into his warm embrace. you hadn't realised how much you needed this until you felt a soft kiss being pressed into your shoulder. "you okay?" he whispered.

blinking away the sudden tears, you sighed. "i am," you said, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. because now you really were okay. mark took a moment to look over your features, analysing whether you were telling the truth. when he was satisfied with your answer, he pressed a quick kiss on your forehead.

"i made you dinner. figured you hadn't eaten," your boyfriend said, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen.

"i haven't," you said, slightly embarrassed. "mark be so glad you never wanted to be an engineer, because why am i doing triple integrals," you sighed, leaning against the counter in his kitchen.

"i'll pretend to understand what you're talking about right now," he threw a playful look your way before focusing on the meal waiting to be reheated. "but i do know how hard you've been working, and trust me it will pay off. i'm so proud of you for never giving up on your dream," mark was speaking sincerely, meaning every single word. when you didn't think you could spare more of your heart, he always proved you wrong, taking all the space in there for himself.

"thank you, baby. it means a lot, really," you said, looking at him with a look that, you hoped, conveyed all the love you held for him.

mark sent a smile your way, giving you a very similar look to yours. "can you set up the table, please? i'm almost done here," he asked, getting some plates out the cupboard. you nodded, making your way towards the table, swiping a bottle of wine on your way. you placed everything very neatly, all edges squared off. finally, you put some music on - mark's record player is probably your favourite part of his apartment, and his vinyl collection is always enticing. as the slow buzz of some slow indie song filled the apartment, mark placed two plates on the table. the both of you sat down, digging straight into the dinner mark had prepared.

"mark," you started, mouth full of pasta. "this is so good," he didn't miss the surprise in your tone, nethertheless he smiled at the compliment. "thank you," you said, more serious now. "for knowing me better than i know myself," the look you shared said more than words ever could. you never thought there could be so much love between two people, but what you and mark shared always proved how wrong you were.

the boy across from you took your hand in his own, a small smile on his face. "you know caring for you is my favourite thing to do," he looked you, he really looked at you - seeing all that you've been silently fighting. you nodded hearing his words, not sure words would do what you're feeling justisce so you settled for a squeeze of his hand and a loving gaze.

after a lovely meal, which mark swore he made fully by himself, you were both in the kitchen cleaning up. the slow melody of a song you hadn't heard before hung in the air, as mark washed the dishes and you dried them before placing them in their destined spots in the cupboards. "this is a good song, i've not heard it before," you commented, swaying slightly. mark looked at you, a smile spreading on his face.

"the vinyl's new, i bought it last weekend when i went to that music shop with hyuck," he spoke softly, washing some cutlery.

"of course you're going on dates with donghyuck," you rolled your eyes, instigating. mark laughed at your words, shrugging yet not denying what you said.

after he finished washing the last of the dishes, he dried his hands and took your own in his. your boyfriend pulled you to the space between his kitchen and living room, pulling you close. his hands rested on your waist, as he started swaying the both of you to the soft notes of the song playing on his record player. despite your initial surprise, your hands crossed behind his neck pulling him even closer. you could smell his cologne that fainted over the day, his laundry detergent that smelled like a field full of flowers in the spring, and the wine you shared over dinner. mark's embrace felt comforing, as the song faded into another equally slow and moving record.

"i love you," he whispered over the words of the song, sealing his words with a kiss beneath your ear. "i can't wait to make you mine forever," he punctuated his words with his fingers caressing your ring finger. you closed your eyes, feeling his heartbeat mingling with your own. knowing your hearts were pressed against each other, and beating in the same rhythym comforted you beyond belief.

"i love you too," you whispered back, your hand making its way into the hair at the nape of his neck. you pulled back slightly, looking him in the eyes - your gaze darting to his lips for a moment. mark followed your movements, leaning in closer. he pressed a kiss to your lips, conveying all his love for you in one gesture. he was sure you could feel it, as he felt all the emotions you tried your best to communicate. the both of you pulled away after a short while, embracing each other again as the song once again changed.

slow dancing with mark was the best distraction you could ask for.

𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘴!

first request omggg thank u sm anon hope this is what u meant!! listened to 'too much ain't enough' by arthur hill while writing this can u tell?? send more requests bc i really enjoyed writing this 😛😛😛

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VILLAIN!HYUNJIN, FEM!HERO!READER, HYUNJIN OBSESSED W/ READER, EXES TO ???, SEX TOYS, LINGERIE, STALKING (?), CORRUPTION KINK, MENTIONS OF TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, CHOKING, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, BOOB/NIPPLE PLAY, HANDCUFFS, HARD DOM!HYUNJIN, ORAL (F. REC), UNPROTECTED SEX, THEY’RE MEAN TO EACH OTHER, PET NAMES (BEAUTIFUL, DARLING,), (1) PUSSY SLAP, SEX TOYS, BEGGING, ORGASM DENIAL, CREAMPIE, VIBRATOR TORTURE, IMPLIED MORE ROUNDS ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.9K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     It was a game to him. A little bit of cat and mouse. Who was who didn't matter? It was fun either way. It was a long game.

     To her, it was a frustration. Dealing with his misleading games. From small petty crimes to large-scale ones, he evaded her. Leaving the scene just as she got there leaving a note. 

     ‘Next time, beautiful. - H’

     A rose with every letter he left. Stumping his little hero in her tracks before he let her catch onto him. Purposefully letting her catch a glimpse of him when she came to stop him. Leaving hints till he was just within reach of him. 

      Playing his cards right to lead her to some dingy nightclub. Getting lost in the crowd. Watching her look for him till he caught her off guard. He was the cat tonight. 

     Quickly walked up behind her on the crowded dance floor and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest. Leaning into his ear. “Don’t turn around, beautiful.”

     “Whatever you're planning, don't.” She replied.

     “Then you’ll follow me,” he told her, pulling her out of the crowd and down a hallway. 

     There was barely any light in the hallway. She couldn't even see his face. Just his silhouette— tall and slender. Shorter hair bounced slightly as he walked. 

     Making a sharp turn into a room before pulling her in. Keeping the lights off as he pushed her against the wall.  Pushing his body right against hers. Even in the dark, she could tell he was smirking. 

     “What are you after?” She asked, waiting for her to adjust to the dark to make out his face. 

     “Originally, just the thrill and money. Then you came to the city.”

     She knew that voice. Just couldn’t figure out where. 

     “What do I have to do with this?” she asked 

     “You haven’t figured it out, darling?”

     “Hyu—”

     Y/n was cut off from her sentence by his lips. Those plump lips that took her forever to forget. Just confirming her guess. Only he had ever called her that nickname. 

     His lips left hers as quickly as they were on hers. “Told you we’d meet again. Just need you to want me like I want you, again.”

     Hyunjin pulled away from her and quickly left the room. Y/n followed him a second too late. He was gone as quickly as he appeared. 

     She wasn't aware he was living a double life when they met. She’d just moved to the city for work. She started her ‘volunteer work’ a few days later and two weeks later she met Hyunjin when she was grabbing coffee before work. He had come up and asked her on a date. What could go wrong?

     Maybe it was his possessiveness that set her off. Some was fine but it had caused so many arguments between them in the few months they were together. If they weren’t fighting, they were fucking.

     It wasn’t healthy so she ended things. Five months went by without a hitch. Two months ago, “H” started messing with her. Now everything was making sense to her. 

     She was happy she was off from her day job the next day. Sitting on her couch with her computer and a cup of coffee, hacking into the police department records. There wasn't anything on Hyunjin, he was good at covering his tracks so the cops hadn’t caught him.

     She jumped when she heard her doorbell buzz. She shut her laptop and walked to her apartment door. Seeing a flower delivery man through her peephole. Sighing as she opened the door. 

     “For Y/n L/n,” He said 

     “Thank you,” Y/n smiled, taking the bouquet from him and closing the door. 

     Red roses. A signature at this point for him but she still read the note sticking out from the top.

     ‘I know you’re looking for me, darling. You’ll only find me when I want you to. Keep thinking of me ♡- Hyunjin’

     The pattern repeated every week. She’d look for him but it’d seem he disappeared. His little crime spree seemed to stop, but not other criminals. She did her job in the dead of night. Leaving them for the cops to pick up later. Even though it was their job to catch the criminals in the city, when she got home in the early hours of the morning, there was always something. Notes, flowers, gifts. His attempt at winning her back. Everything but the notes was tossed.

     She had a distaste for how often he was on her mind now. She’d barely thought about him in months but their nightclub encounter was messing with her head. Then she’d drift to their good times— however rare they were.

     Maybe that's how she found herself at the same nightclub. Her eyes peeled for him but he never showed. Rather she was hit on by drunk men all night till she called it quits heading back to her apartment building. Parking her car and heading back up to her unit. 

     She sensed something off when she opened her door. Nothing was out of place, everything was locked. Nonetheless, she quietly closed her front door and locked it. Slipping off her shoes and hanging up her things while grabbing one of the throwing knives she carried out her bag to check her rooms. Just to find nothing but a gift box on her bed. 

     Slowly she walked towards it and undid the ribbon. Jumping as her phone rang.

     She grabbed it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Unknown caller. She answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear.

     “Not gonna finish opening your present?” Hyunjin’s voice rang the speaker

     “Where are you Hyunjin,” Y/n said

     “Mhm, I missed the way you say my name,” he chuckled on the other end of the line. Fuck that laugh

     Y/n put her phone on speaker and set it on her bed while she opened the box. Tissue paper covering whatever was under it. Lifting the tissue to find a red and black lingerie set with an egg vibrator sitting on top.

     “You like your gift darling?” 

     “Are you out of your mind?” Y/n asked after taking the phone off speaker

     “Mmmm, yes. I am. But you are too.”

     “I’m perfectly sane.”

     “Perfectly sane people don’t jump from buildings every night and take out shitty excuses for criminals. Or chase after their exes”

     “I’m not chasing you.”

     “You’re not?” Hyunjin laughed again, “Then why go to that club again? Definitely didn’t look like you were interested in any of the drunks that came up to you.”

     He was there. And he was watching. 

     “Admit it Y/n, you need me. All over again. We were almost perfect together.”

     “Fighting and fucking all the time was ‘almost perfect’ to you?”

     “The fucking, yes. Could’ve done with less fighting.”

     “That’s why I left.”

     “But here you are, chasing me.”

     Y/n went to say something else but he hung up. She tried calling back but nothing. Sighing in frustration she threw her phone on her bed. Moving the box off her bed and stepping out onto her fire escape for some air. She should just go to sleep but didn’t think she would be able to. It was nearing four in the morning.

     Putting pieces together on a chilly night. Hyunjin knew where she was— not that she moved after their breakup— and how to get in. He possibly could have made a copy of her key and was using that. But there weren’t any threats or danger in his actions. He was just obsessed. Which matched with his possessiveness. 

     He was also watching her. How? She had no clue. She went back inside and checked her whole apartment for cameras or microphones. Nothing. That meant he was close by.

     Y/n went on about her life. Keeping an eye on her surroundings for him. Waiting to see if he would slip up. And he did.

     Her coworkers had insisted on going out over the weekend. A group of them going out to the club and opening a tab. Forgetting about the work stress of dancing and alcohol.

     Hyunjin followed, just as he had. His whole plan was working far too slowly for his taste. Materialistic things weren’t working like he thought. Maybe he could get her alone again. And luck was on his side. Her group had left her on the dance floor and he was behind her in seconds, hands on her hips

     “You look good,” He whispered in her ear

     “Still trying?” She laughed as she turned to him

     “You’re worth trying for.”

     “What’s your end goal here, Hyunjin?” She asked as she pulled him closer to her, just to have a semi-private conversation on the dance floor.

     “Fuck you till you’re as crazy as I am.”

     Y/n looked over his facial expression. He was serious with that devilish smile of his. Leaning in till his lips ghosted her ear. “It’s not like anyone after me has gotten you off like I have. Isn’t that right?”

     “Been keeping that close of tabs, have you?” Y/n tried not to let it phase her

     “Of course I have. Tell me I’m right.”

     Hyunjin lifted a hand to hold her chin while he locked eye contact with her, “Tell me I’m right, and I’ll give you all those pretty orgasms you’ve been missing.”

     “Fuck you,” Y/n said before pulling him to her lips. 

     Hyunjin responded quickly and let his hand rest against her neck. Smiling into their heated kiss before pulling back. “That's my girl.”

     Y/n quickly pulled both of them out of the club. Hyunjin smirked at her eagerness, letting her drag him out to the alleyway behind the club. Pressing him up against the wall and pressing her lips to his again. 

     Hyunjin moaned into her lips before flipping them so she was against the wall. Pressing her hips against his while she gripped his jacket. Slipping his tongue past her lips and dominating her mouth. 

     Y/n fought back with her own tongue till his hand wrapped around her throat. Gasping as he pulled away and looked at her. “I wonder what this city would think about their favorite hero falling for a villain's charms.”

     He let go of her and pulled her out of the alley. Dragging her towards her apartment. The two made it up her stairs as quickly as they could while Y/n grabbed her keys out of her bag. Hyunjin pressed himself right up behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck till the lock clicked and the door opened. Walking inside with her and locking the door behind him. 

     Turning her around and walking her back into her living room, lips reattaching to hers. Backing up to the back of her couch. Y/n grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling lightly at his hair while he sat her on the back of the couch. 

     “Missed these lips so damn much,” Hyunjin mumbled against her lips as he shrugged off his jacket, “been thinking about them every night.”

     “Gonna talk all night or you gonna make do on your promise,” Y/n asked

     Hyunjin smirked and picked her up by her thighs. Wrapping her legs around him, “Don't be taking an attitude now darling.” He warned as he walked towards her bedroom 

     “Thought you liked it when I had one,” Y/n teased

     Hyunjin walked through her door and pinned her down onto her bed, attacking her neck. Kissing the top of her breasts that peaked out from her shirt before lifting the fabric over her head. Just to be greeted with the lingerie he had bought her. 

     Y/n knew his ego was growing seeing the red and black lace. She could see it in his eyes and by the way he practically ripped the remainder of her clothes off her body— lingerie included— before discarding his. Pinning her wrists to her pillows as he started marking up her skin

     Y/n tried slipping her hands out of his but Hyunjin was quick to catch on and moved to hold her hands above her head in one hand while looking down at her. “Can’t behave unless you're tied up, huh?”

     Hyunjin leaned over to her nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. Finding that his toy selection hadn't moved. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, and locking her to the bed frame. Y/n tugged on the cuffs, both of them knew how to get out of them. That’s why Hyunjin was quick to drag his fingers through her folds and wrap his plump lips around her nipple. His rough tongue flicked the bud while his thumb slowly rolled across her clit. Slowly slipping two fingers inside her. 

     Y/n arched slightly into him, biting her bottom lip to stop her moans. Hyunjin thrusted his fingers in and out of her, slowly picking up his pace. Switching between her breasts sucking, licking, biting, and blowing on her nipples. Making her shiver from the cold feeling. 

     Slowly his lips trailed down her body after getting bored with her tits. Laying on his stomach and wrapping his pretty lips around her clit. Sucking on the little bud and slipped a third finger in. Curling up into her walls. 

     Y/n slowly rocked against him as the pads of his fingers just were barely rubbing against the one spongy spot inside of her. “Fuck,” Y/n whined

     Hyunjin pressed on, finding the spot and abusing it along with her clit. Listening to her moans pick up. Feeling her legs shake next to him as her rocking became more erratic till she stilled. Warmth covered his fingers. 

     He pulled his fingers out and pushed his tongue inside her. Thrusting the muscle in and out of her as she rode out her high. However, he didn't stop once she came down. Licking her clean from the inside till he was satisfied. 

     Sitting up on his knees as he pushed her legs open, hooking his hands under her knees. “Don't got much to say now?” he teased as he wrapped one hand around his leaky cock. Pumping himself a few times before lining the tip up at her entrance. 

     “Just waiting for you to give me a good fuck,” Y/n smiled. 

     Hyunjin scoffed before sinking into her in one go. Watching her mouth fall open. He leaned down and he grabbed her neck as her mouth closed again. “You’re so much nicer to me when my cock’s inside you,” he chuckled as he pulled back and thrusted into her again. 

     Sitting back up and keeping his hold on her neck, using it to push her to meet his thrust. Feeling her vocal cords move under his hand from any whines and moans she was making. 

     “Seems like you missed having me inside your pretty little pussy,” Hyunjin groaned 

     “Didn't miss you at all,” Y/n shot back at him

     “Really?” Hyunjin pulled his hand from her neck and then pulled out of her. Listening as she whined and her hips bucked towards him. Her hole clenching around nothing, “Seems like you did.”

     Hyunjin brought his hand down on her wet cunt. Enjoying the little scream she let out. He peaked over at the open toy drawer to see what else he could use. Pulling out a magic wand and licking his lips. 

     He didn't think twice about turning the toy to the second-lowest setting and pressing it against her clit. 

     “Oh fuck,” Y/n whined, throwing her head back into the pillow 

     “You're going to start begging if you wanna cum,” Hyunjin told her 

     He kept one hand pressing the toy to her clit while he wrapped the other around himself. Getting off to the way her body shook from the toy. Waiting to hear her beg for him to fuck her again. 

     “‘M gonna cum,” Y/n moaned

     Hyunjin pulled the toy away from her clit. Laughing at her whines and pleas. 

     “Please Jinnie, wanna cum so bad,” Y/n whined, “Promised you’d give me em.”

     “That’s before you were a brat,” Hyunjin huffed 

     “‘M sorry! I missed you, missed having you inside me! Need you to cum,” Y/n rambled, tears escaping her eyed 

     “Yeah?” He asked, feeling his high quickly approaching, and pointed his tip at her wet folds, more aiming for her clenching hole

     “Yes! Thought of you every time I was with someone else!”

     Y/n gasped as Hyunjin filled her with his cock again. Immediately bullying his cock against her walls. Pressing the toy back against her clit, feeling her clench around him. 

     “Shit,” Hyunjin groaned. 

     Within a few more thrusts, he buried himself inside her. His warm cum filled her up. The vibrator slipped from her clit for a moment before he fixed the issue and turned up the speed. 

     Listening to her whines as he came down from his high just to finally trigger hers. Watching her hips buck against him. Hyunjin managed to pull out of her and pull the toy away from her to take in the full show. Smiling as she came down, their mixture dripped out of her. 

     He turned off the toy and tossed it beside them on the bed. Finding the keys for the cuffs and unlinking them from the headboard. Turning the hero onto her stomach and lifting her hips up and sinking back into her. 

     “Jin,” Y/n whined

     “You’re okay darling. Gonna take care of you all night,” Hyunjin smirked and nipped at her ear.

     Hands grabbing her wrists and pinning her down to the pillows. “Gotta remind you that you’re mine.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[sports-on-sundays]

Oh...! Maybe you can make a part 2 of the fic Mama's Boy when they're on date or make a new one with the same trope because this is so cute and I can't stop reading it! 😆

mama's boy / Héctor Fort / Part 2

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor takes you on both of your first dates, his clear, awkward, huge crush on you funnily apparent. Link to Part 1!

Requested?: Yes! Thank you!

"...Héctor...?!" Lamine suddenly says louder, gently slapping Héctor's shoulder, snapping Héctor out of his deep thoughts. "Did you just hear any of what I just said?" the seventeen-year-old asks in slight exasperation.

"Uh... yeah, of course," Héctor replies, looking at the younger guy like a deer in headlights.

"Then what was it?"

Héctor sighs. "Alright. Maybe I didn't hear you. Sorry. What was it?"

Lamine shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Not really, in any case. But what's your problem lately, man?"

"What do you mean?" Héctor asks a bit too defensively and quickly.

"I don't know. It just seems like you're always zoned out and stuff. Is there anything going on?"

Héctor sighs, shaking his head, standing up to go. "No, no, it's nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. Anyway, I've got to go now. Bye, Lamine!" and he leaves before the boy can press him any more on the subject.

Because the truth is, he does have something on his mind. Something really big. And he hasn't been able to get it off his mind literally all week.

But it'd be awkward to tell Lamine the thing that's making him literally check out of conversations is all centered around a girl. And if Héctor knows Lamine enough, he also knows Lamine would never let him live that down.

Well, tonight is his date with you. Ever since he asked you out about five days ago now, at your house, in your room, all he can focus on are the nerves of that. You, the girl he's known for years, the girl that's always been so close yet so untouchable. He is taking you out on a date.

And you actually like him back.

Just the thought of that makes his chest tighten. How on earth is he going to survive a date with you, no matter how excited he is for it?

"You've been awfully quiet this car ride," Héctor's mama says in the car seat next to him.

Héctor sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Aren't you excited for your date?" his mama says kind of teasingly, giving him a little nudge.

"Of course! I guess I'm just..." he trails off.

"You're just a bit nervous, but that's something you'd never admit to anyone out loud, huh?"

Héctor just smiles awkwardly, shrugging, and lets his silence be the answer to that question. After a few seconds, he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt, and saying, "I just hope I don't screw it all up."

"Hey, trust me, Héc. Look here for a second," his mama says.

He looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. What?"

"You won't screw it up. I'm sure it'll go great. You've known that girl since you were both born. And I have, too, by the way. And if there's one thing I can tell, it's this: she likes you just as much as you like her. She's just less of an awkward idiot about it!" His mama laughs, giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Héctor snaps back, unable to keep the smile from breaking out on his face at the tease from his mama.

She gives him a little pat, saying, "There's my boy's real smile. Now, go on, and have fun, Héc!"

He smiles and nods, getting out of the car, feeling a lot better than before.

Héctor replayed this scene in his head over and over, all week, perfecting it every time, until he was sure what he would do and say, in order to be perfectly smooth and charming, without being too corny, either.

The scene where you would walk up to him, and he'd take you inside the restaurant, and you'd sit down, and it would all go just the way he wants it to.

But all the sudden, as he sees you walking towards him, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the moment you reach him and say happily, "Hey, Héctor!" all other thoughts and plans of what he would say next fly right out of his head.

His mind goes blank, and instead of the smooth comment he thought he'd make right here, he just smiles stupidly and says, "Hi. I'm glad you came!"

You smile softly. "Well, I am, too. Let's go inside."

So the two of you walk in, and Héctor internally beats himself up at how much he's 'already messed up.' At least according to himself, that is.

So in an effort to fix his mistakes, as the two of you are escorted to your table, he suddenly gently slips his hand into yours and looks at you with a sweet little smile.

You smile back, blushing a bit, and squeeze his hand gently.

That's when he blurts, "You look really good today. I mean, like... I mean, you look beautiful... Uhm..." he clears his throat. "You look good every day, obviously, I mean. I just mean to say... you look especially pretty today."

You smile, feeling how awkward he's being. But regardless, you think it's cute. He's cute. And he's being sweet. So you say simply, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." You can tell he's tried to look his best for this. His clothes are perfectly ironed, his shoes clean, every hair on his head perfectly in place. You can't help but smile softly when you think about the effort he must've put into all that as you both sit down across from each other.

You both begin looking over the menu, and as you do this, you say with a little smile, after you catch him giving you little glances for the fourth time, "You really like me, don't you?"

He smiles a bit and says, "There's a lot to like about you." Finally! Something that was at least half-smooth! his brain screamed, like as if he'd just scored the winning goal. Which is actually quite funny, considering the situation itself.

You smile and say, putting a hand to your chest, "Why, thank you!"

And he grins back at you, his eyes softening in some sort of deep affection that further tells you just how down bad he is for you.

"So, what are you going to get?" Héctor asks, beginning the small talk of the night, which, honestly, you're thankful for.

As the date goes on, though, you both settle into being more and more comfortable with each other, until it seems at the end you've both forgotten this was supposed to be any different than any other time you've just hung out and had fun with each other.

Until the time for you both to get going is nearing, and suddenly Héctor, apparently getting a newfound spark of confidence, reaches across the table to take your hand in his own. You look up, watching him inhale slowly, before meeting your eyes with his own and saying in a gentler, more serious tone than the teasing one that had lingered most of the evening between the two of you: "So... have you liked it?"

You smile as each of your hands seem to naturally entwine in each other's. "Liked what?"

"Tonight. Our date."

You beam. "Oh, Héctor, I've just loved it."

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Don't you know that any time I get to spend with you is amazing? Come on now, Héctor," you gently tease.

He beams back at you, squeezing your hand.

That's when you finally feel comfortable enough to ask the unabating question that's been on your mind all week: "Héctor... how long have you liked me...? You know, in this way."

He seems hesitant. Maybe slightly taken off guard. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and after some silence, finally responds with, "The truth is, it's been longer than I've even known."

You can't help but laugh a bit at that, maybe a little nervously, saying, "What does that mean?"

Héctor smiles softly. "It means that I'm starting to think I've felt like this towards you for years. Like, at least five."

Your eyes widen at that as your heart rate begins to quicken. "Oh... my goodness, Héctor, that's so sweet...!" It really is. Hearing those words from him is so... touching.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing away from your gaze, before asking, "How long have you liked me? I mean, you do like me, right?"

"Héctor! Of course I like you! I like you a lot!" you exclaim, liking the way he happily looks back up at that. "I mean, I guess it hasn't been as long as you, but I've probably liked you for, like, at least eighteen months now."

He seems to be satisfied with hearing that, and says, "It kind of seems perfect, doesn't it?"

"What does?" you ask, your expression softening further.

"The way we've known each other... forever. Our families love each other, we have the same interests, we know all the little things about each other. It's almost as if..."

"...we're meant to be?" you finish after he trails off.

His eyebrows happily shoot up. "How'd you know that's just what I was going to say?"

You chuckle. "I guess we're just on the same wavelength, too, on top of it all, huh?"

He squeezes your hand, before daring to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss it, saying, "I guess we are, my princess."

You stare in awe at him, suddenly feeling like he's just shot you in the heart with an arrow of love, regardless of how cheesy that all seems. You can't help but giggle and tease, "Oh my God, Héctor. I didn't know you had that in you!"

He beams, admittedly seeming quite pleased with himself.

Soon, then, he pays for the meal, and the two of you stand up to head out. As you walk, Héctor links arms with yours, and once you're outside, he turns to grab your shoulders gently, face you, and look into your eyes. All you can see in them is simple, beautiful, complete joy. It's then that he whispers, "I hope you know... how much this means to me. All of this."

You stare at him. He so... close. It's not like you haven't been this close to him before- you have, many times.

But this time? This time, it just feels... well, different.

This time is different.

His thumb gently rubs your shoulder. The tenderness in his dark brown eyes...

You swallow.

"You're so beautiful... I'm so glad I get the privilege to be so close to you. I'm so glad you're my best friend."

"And I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," you suddenly blurt with a silly little smile, your heart pounding at the words you just let slip from your lips.

His eyes immediately widen. "You... You really want to...?"

You lean in close, gazing up at him, "I'd love to, and I know you would, too."

He grins, before it slowly dies down to a simple, soft, dreamy smile. "I sure would..." he barely murmurs, moving his hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You chuckle breathy as he lean in, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek, before moving close to whisper in your ear, his cheek almost touching yours, his gentle, warm breath on your ear, "Well, I guess I've got to go now... But I'm excited for next time, huh?"

You grin, whispering back, "Oh, Héctor, I hope you know I can't wait."

He grins back and whispers, "Good. Me neither. Now, bye bye, Y/n!" He leans away again, pecking you on your cheek, closer to your mouth this time, and waves as he starts heading off.

You beam. "Bye bye, Héc!"

And this time, he doesn't seem to mind you calling him that. In fact, he might actually like it. Just a bit.