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mmywanda · 5 months ago

Text

Dandelion — W.M

chapter one of Forbidden Pleasure

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Pairing: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family's business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring. men & minors dni!

Warnings: None.. yet ;)

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: My first series! I promise it’s going to get more exciting soon, this was just setting things up.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

—

You'd never been into business. Despite your family being famous for their own very successful company, Nexus. No, you preferred working in that little library, where it was quiet, and the most stressful it got was when someone returned their books too late. Why would you want to be involved in a business full of money hungry people who think of nothing but financial success?

So that was precisely what you told your father when he called you up one Saturday morning, trying to persuade you into following in the footsteps of the majority of your family. And what didn't help your case was the fact you'd be laid off from your job, as there wasn't enough funding in the library to keep all four employees.

"I don't want to be a part of it, dad, I've told you this so many times." You spoke between chews, the crunch of your slightly burnt toast echoing through the call.

"You're twenty two, (Y/N), it's time you step up and join us. You could be valuable to the team."

You rolled your eyes, "And what value would that be?" Both of you knew that you'd passed through college with barely average results, and was lucky to have found a decently paying job that didn't require better grades.

"You're good with people, we need that."

Glancing over at the small stack of bills across you on the kitchen table, you sighed. "I don't want it to change me." What if you turned into an emotionless robot? And had to work behind a desk everyday? And that desk may be on the twenty fourth level of a glass tower building?

"You won't change, I know you."

Doubt swirled around in your mind, eyes scanning the small apartment you lived in. You would have to find a job soon, though it would be difficult given your low qualifications and lack of experience. Here you were, being offered a job that would most likely be well paying.

"Fine. I'll do it."

—

The first matter of business was shopping. Your wardrobe consisted of cardigans, faded jeans, a skirt you refused to ever wear again and a few shirts that looked very outdated compared to the modern city you lived in.

Walking into a clothing store that wasn't your typical go-to was scary. You'd chosen a different one so you could find more professional outfits— because you'd probably be kicked out of the office if you were to walk in wearing your usual attire.

"May I offer you some assistance?" A woman appeared in front of you almost two seconds after you'd stepped through the automatic doors. Her eyes scanned you, as it was obvious this was your first time in that store.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, it's okay thank you. I'm just browsing." When she left with a nod, you walked to the pants section, looking at the wide selection of styles, material and colours. You didn't even know where to begin. Eventually you decided that darker shades like grey, black or navy would be appropriate. Picking a few out, you folded them over your arm, ready for the dressing room later.

Next was shirts, that just like the pants, had a very large selection, perhaps even more. A sigh left your lips.

Twenty minutes later you'd accumulated clothing items and two pairs of shoes. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the dressing rooms, and once inside a cubicle, you dropped the pile onto the stool. Another sigh left your lips. Is this what business people went through every year? Well, probably every month, based on what you knew of business people. Granted, your only knowledge of business style was from The Office, and it wasn't like that show was renowned for its fashion sense.

Trying on a few outfits, matching different things, you decided on what you would purchase. Making your way to the cashiers, you avoided the gaze of the store assistant.

"That will be three hundred and eleven dollars, fifty cents." The cashier's bright smile almost smoothed over your shock, but not quite. Three hundred and eleven dollars?!

As much as you wanted to apologise and leave to find a store that had cheaper prices, you wouldn't be able to handle the judgemental stare of that woman. So, you got your card out and pressed it against the card reader. When it let out a double beep, indicating it hadn't been approved, you tried again, to which the cashier said, "You have to put your card in. The contactless limit is two hundred."

Your face flushed. If it wasn't obvious that you hadn't spent this much money before, it was now.

That evening, you laid on your couch, staring at the cracks in your ceiling, instant ramen in a bowl, cooling down from its boiling temperature. You thought about what would happen tomorrow, your first day in the office. Well, you knew you wouldn't have a desk job exactly, you'd be more like an assistant to any of the managers or executives— whatever that meant.

Trying to shake your mind of all the worries, you ate your ramen, despite it burning your tongue. At least it was a distraction from the overthinking anyway.

—

You woke up with a start, phone alarm blaring. Your first instinct was to sit up, but an ache in your neck forced you to pause. It seemed you'd fallen asleep on the couch, head having been in an awkward position all night. You thanked the you from yesterday who set the alarm in preparation and had placed the phone beside you.

It didn't take long to put your chosen outfit on, but what did take long was pleasing the perfectionist in you. You stood in front of the mirror for a while, adjusting your hair this way and that, fiddling with the simple silver necklace you were wearing.

"It's no big deal, (Y/N), you're not going to meet anyone important on your first day."

That's what you kept telling yourself during your journey to the office building. It took a train and a four minute walk until you reached your destination. Walking into the lobby, you were struck by how sharp, clean and unnecessarily big it was. Pale marble flooring, bright white walls, even brighter ceiling lights despite it being a sunny day outside. And the very large 'NEXUS' logo on the far wall. Your shoes squeaked against the marble, and you wondered what sort of material the soles were made out of. Perhaps the marble was made to mock people with shoes worth less than a thousand dollars.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist asked as you approached him. You smiled, masking your nerves.

"I'm (Y/N), I'm meant to be starting my job today."

He nodded quickly, suddenly sitting up straighter, you assumed because he believed he would get in trouble if he wasn't the most professional he could be in front of his boss's daughter. You then noticed his name badge that read 'Evan'.

Evan picked up the reception phone, tapping a few numbers before speaking, telling someone that you had arrived. The conversation was short.

"Take the elevator to the ninth floor, first door on the right." He pointed you in the right direction. You gave him your thanks and then found yourself inside the small metal box also known as an elevator. You hated them, though you guessed it would have to become part of your routine now.

Once arriving on the ninth floor, you examined the decor— plain walls with an occasional framed art piece (the kind that looked like a toddler had painted that would sell for millions).

Hearing distant voices coming from various closed doors, you decided dallying wouldn't make the start of shift any easier. You found the first door on the right, knocking lightly until you heard a familiar voice call out— "Come in." So you did.

The office was spacious, a desk in the middle, and seating behind it was your father. He gave you a warm smile, standing up with an outstretched hand. You mentally sighed at his usual strange way of greeting family members. You shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him.

"It's good to see you here, when was the last time you visited?" He prompted, clicking his silver pen against the table.

"A few years ago, the Christmas party."

You remembered it begrudgingly. The night you fell onto a table that happened to be seating several ice filled buckets for the champagne. Let's just say it was an extremely humiliating memory that always made you shiver. The chill of the ice had never quite escaped you.

Your father chuckled, nodding as he recalled the same night. "Ah, yes. How could I forget." You rolled your eyes, refusing to smile until he changed the subject. "Anyway, let's talk business."

He pulled out a new planner journal, handing it to you. Flicking through it, you noticed a lot of dates neatly jotted in. You gave him a questioning look.

"My assistant kindly added important dates and meetings."

Your eyes widened slightly, "I'm going to join meetings?" That was something you hadn't expected.

"As a note taker, for now." His expression showed how keen he was for you to progress in your role and reach a high position in the company on your own. He wasn't going to get you a higher job just because you were his kid.

Scanning the dates written down for the current week, you saw there was a meeting scheduled for today. Anxiety immediately bubbled inside you at the thought of being in such a professional setting with equally professional people, as an inexperienced ex-librarian.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). It's not a huge deal." He hesitated, before correcting himself. "Okay, it is a big deal."

You groaned, leaning back in the chair that you had to admit was very uncomfortable. "What is it about? Stock shares or something?" It was very obvious that you pulled the term out of your very limited knowledge on business that lived in the back of your brain, because your father's eyebrows creased in amusement.

"It's our annual meeting with Maximoff Industries. And let's just say our companies have difficulty clicking."

The name 'Maximoff Industries' was familiar. You knew that they created things in the technology area, and as it so happened, Nexus did too, so it was no wonder they didn't 'click'.

"How do they normally go?" You had to gauge how terrible the experience would be for you. Scenarios ran through your mind, the most rational being; raised tones, interrupted sentences, perhaps even a few cold glares (gasp).

"We have a small partnership in a few products, so the disagreements normally stem from financial shares, and what name is listed first under the annual report. It normally ends in a handshake though." He attempted a smile, but it was clear that he had a very strong distaste for Maximoff Industries. "It doesn't help that their CEO, Wanda Maximoff is a.. difficult person to get along with in terms of business."

"Why?" You asked, wanting to know what to expect in the meeting, even if you were going to be sitting in the corner.

Your father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's.." He thought for a long hard moment. "She has this look, like she knows more than you, like she's superior. And she very obviously craves control over every situation without explicitly expressing it. It's infuriating, but hard to explain."

It didn't seem like much to go on; having a certain expression and craving control. Wasn't that a description of half of the earth's population?

Your father checked his watch, "It's going to start in twenty minutes." You internally panicked, because you hadn't expected things to start so soon. He smiled kindly, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"It's okay, (Y/N), you're not going to be talking." That didn't exactly reassure you, because it meant you would have to maintain a calm act in case anyone looked your way.

"Alright, let's do this." Faking positivity was the first step, right?

—

The meeting room was empty when you and other representatives from Nexus walked in, including your father. They all took their seats, presumably their allocated ones. There was a chair set aside from the very long table, which you guessed was for you. Sliding it backwards a bit, you sat, spending a very awkward minute trying to decide how to position your legs. Should you cross them or not? Before you could come to a decision, you heard people entering the room.

You looked up, counting five very professional looking businesspeople. Thinking that was all, you opened your notebook, until you sensed one last presence. Glancing across the room, a woman entered.

She was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and heels. Hair brunette with lighter streaks, eyes a deep shade of green. But the overriding feature of this woman was her aura. Everyone in the room fell silent, most of the Nexus members seemed to have a polite but forced smile.

"Ms Maximoff, it's good to see you." Your father announced, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate for the woman to sit at the opposite end of the table— although she'd already done so.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Julian." Wanda Maximoff replied, her tone smooth, with an underlying accent you hadn't heard before. It was very alluring all the same. You noticed she'd addressed your father by his first name.

"How have you been? I heard y—" Your father began, until he was cut off.

"Let's just get to business, shall we?" Wanda's hands rested on top of the table, revealing her many intricate and no doubt expensive silver rings.

"Oh, yes." Julian cleared his throat, gesturing to his coworker, a manager to start the presentation. You tried your best to quickly note down the points the manager was making, including comments from the other company.

But you felt your attention slipping, because from your angle, Wanda Maximoff was just to the left of the presentation screen. You were inexplicably drawn to her, the way she held herself, and not to mention her immense beauty.

You were suddenly startled when the face you were staring at turned, green eyes locking with yours. All oxygen left your lungs, not from panic of being caught staring during a professional meeting, but because Wanda Maximoff was piercing. Though her head tilted back to the presentation. Finally you were able to breathe, fingers gripping the notebook edges.

"So what's the point of decreasing the amount of products manufactured if it's in high demand?" Wanda questioned, leaning back in her seat slightly, directing the question towards your father instead of the manager.

He paused, thinking through his answer before replying. "Retailers are going to be bidding higher prices in order to stock it."

Wanda Maximoff's eyebrows quirked, a slight upturn of her lips now revealing to you what your father had described earlier; The Look. It indeed felt like she was in control, as if she was negotiating a deal with a child.

"Why don't we ask someone else's opinion?" Wanda's eyes snapped to you. Horror rushed through you as everyone followed Wanda's directed stare. All eyes were on you.

You felt your face heat up, having absolutely no idea what to say or do other than look towards your father helplessly. He nodded his head, as if urging me to speak so they could move on quickly.

"Uh—" Words were failing you. Wanda's expression shifted from expectancy to amusement. She was enjoying your embarrassment, it seemed. "I think it could work.. people tend to want to buy things that are exclusive." You didn't have anything to base that opinion on, but you hoped it sounded more certain than it did in your head.

Wanda's stare remained on you for a few agonising seconds before nodding once, accepting your answer. "Let's take ten, my team need to discuss this." Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. The Nexus members waited for the others to leave the room, but they didn't. Your father let out a very quiet but infuriated sigh at Wanda's blank though slightly smug expression . He stood, muttering to everyone to leave with him, including you. You'd never exited a room so quickly.

Once you were a few metres down the corridor, you exhaled, leaning against the wall, the conversation between your company distant to your ears. You were busy calming down from the humiliation. You hadn't felt this way since falling into a table with ice buckets in this very building.

Why had Wanda singled you out? Surely she knew how uncomfortable that would be for someone who was clearly new.

You needed water. Luckily you knew of the staff lounge that had a supply of refreshments.

The 'lounge' was thankfully empty, consisting of several pristine couches and counter with a kettle and an array of coffees and teas. You headed towards the water cooler. Grabbing a small paper cup, you flicked on the switch for the water to start filling the cup slowly. It was when it reached the halfway mark that you were startled by a voice.

"It's an interesting opinion that you have."

You spun around, facing Wanda Maximoff. It was hard to breathe again.

"Do you know a lot about consumer behaviour?" She asked, emerald eyes fixed on yours. The question stunned you for a moment, not entirely understanding. But you'd done enough reading to be able to guess what her words meant.

"Not really, I just notice what people around me seem to buy." Good, you're doing good— you told yourself.

"You don't do the buying?" She asked, head slightly tilted to the side.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, no. I'm the type to keep something until it's completely incapable of doing its job." For example; your toaster.

Wanda's lips twitched into a smile that almost felt like a smirk. "That's an unfortunate attitude to have when you're working in this industry." You swallowed, throat feeling very dry as you still hadn't had that water yet. Wanda seemed to finally notice the cup in your hand.

"Drink."

The simple word felt like a command, and you found yourself raising your cup without hesitation and taking a gulp of water. It felt like a relief to your dry throat. The woman's smile was now definitely a smirk, though what she was smirking at, you didn't know.

"I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start?" The question was a simple one, but the way Wanda delivered it made it seem a lot more important, like she actually interested.

You were just glad it was an easy one to answer. "Today, actually."

She nodded slowly, "You're Julian's daughter?"

"Yeah, he's wanted me here for a while, and I needed a job." You had to tell yourself to just chill out, because you were starting to overthink your answers, despite there being no need to.

Wanda reached a hand out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, inadvertently directing your attention to her hands. The silver rings shaped her fingers perfectly, the dark red varnish on her nails standing out as they brushed against her hair. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

"Those plants look half dead."

Your eyebrows raised at her very random statement. Since when did plants become a part of the conversation? You went along with it, noticing the few potted plants and vases with flowers that did look very wilted.

"Do you know the name of that one?" Wanda pointed to a specific plant, green leaves and yellow flowers. You knew nothing about plants.

"Tulip?" It was more of a question than an answer. Wanda let out a chuckle at your painfully wrong answer. She shook her head in amusement.

"Dandelion." She stated, suddenly studying you with some type of curiosity and intrigue. "You remind me of a dandelion."

Your expression was quizzical, wondering why a yellow flower could be associated to you in any kind of way. "Why?"

Wanda smiled mysteriously, carefully leaving the question unanswered as she checked her watch. You could tell by the watch strap alone that it was probably worth more than your student debt. "The break is over." And with that, she began walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. You were stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it. Realising that the cup was still in your hand, you threw it away, walking as quickly as you could back to the meeting room without embarrassing yourself.

Everyone was in the room by the time you'd survived the walk back. You kept your eyes down and sat in your corner (of shame). The conversations started again, and you tried your best, yet again, to make notes. It was a bit easier to concentrate as Wanda hadn't done any talking yet.

It was boring, really, listening to your father and Maximoff Industries' representatives disagree on very simple things like the font for whatever the damn products they wanted to sell.

Finally, Wanda spoke up after listening to the conversation she appeared to have found just as boring as you had. "Let's do it. Less products for higher sales, as ridiculous as it sounds. Though, something would have to be put in place.”

You glanced up from your notebook, pen hovering above the page. Even Wanda’s own coworkers seemed confused.

“I will have regular meetings with a representative from Nexus, just so I can keep up to date with your side of this new decision.”

You could practically see the cogs in your father’s brain whirring, as he probably didn’t know now if this new idea would be a mistake. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll look at my schedu—“

“It will be (Y/N).” Wanda stated clearly. Once again, you found all attention on you. You were just as bewildered as the other surprised faces.

“Me?” You uttered, cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda Maximoff wanting to meet you again.

A smile twitched on your lips as she studied you from across the room. You felt the presences around you fade away when your eyes locked with green ones. She spoke in a slow but deliberate way, “You will accept, won’t you?”

Without thinking twice, you simply replied, “Yes.”

—

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strawberrypoundtown · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I’m a big fan of your work and your writing style.

If you’re still open to prompts(no worries if not):

Perhaps an incubus who falls in love with it’s mark, and struggling to remain composed or ‘professional’ due to their feels?

Please and thank you ❤️

(Omg I love this idea. Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like what I did with it! I'm so sorry this took so long to complete. I wanted to try and do something different with this one to experiment a bit more. Any advice or critique is welcome 😁 I do want to make a part 2 for this eventually, but I honestly have no idea when I'll actually be able to write it. Until then, any ideas for the 2nd part (or a name for him) are more than welcome! Without further adieu, please enjoy the show! - 🍓)

Incubus x Fem!Reader

After starting work at a new office, you've been trying to ignore your incubus coworker and his countless attempts to invite you into the supply closet, or his home after work hours. It's not until he admits that he doesn't just want a one-night stand that you might give him a chance...

Contains: tentacles, sexual tension, bondage (tentacles), gagging, grinding

This wasn't supposed to happen. It never took him more than a few days to convince someone to go home with him. Usually, he was able to do it in a matter of hours, and they ended up bent over his desk. Why were you so difficult? You were just a human. The most beautiful human he had ever seen walk into the office, but just a human either way.

Then why did you turn him down everytime he even walked up to you? Sure he had a rep, but it was a good one. A lot of the other girls at the office considered him good for stress relief, so why wouldn't you let him show you that? Or more importantly, why did he care so much that you kept rejecting him? He couldn't wrap his head around it. He had been rejected in the past and was never all that affected by it. But why did your rejections hurt so badly?

He couldn't feed on anyone else until he had you. The thought of feeding on anyone but you made him feel nauseous. Everyone else smelled terrible in comparison. He even almost gagged once when he was in a morning meeting, and you had called in sick.

You were like a breath of fresh air, and your kindness towards everyone in the office since you arrived made him annoyed. Some of the other monsters in the office were starting to flirt with you after you had rejected him the first time. It made him so angry that you were torturing him like this.

He was done with the casual approach at this point. He couldn't stand having people look at you like he did. He wanted you all to himself, at least for one night. He isn't supposed to get attached to his marks, but he couldn't help it. You had ruined him by simply existing. Everyone he looked at that could be a potential mark were nothing compared to you. They didn't have your body, your voice, your eyes, your smile, or your scent. He just wanted to drown himself in you just once to purge his urges at least, but you wouldn't let him do that.

But today was different. He had a plan. Your team had a short meeting that morning, and he had pretended to leave first, instead waiting outside the door until everyone else had left. He noticed you always stayed back for a few moments to yourself for whatever reason, often just cleaning, but this time, you were going to be staying back for another reason.

All of a sudden, he heard giggling from inside. Your giggling. It was followed by a masculine laugh and the disgusting scent of werewolf flooding his senses. He growled and peered through the crack in the door to see you smiling and giggling with a werewolf that sat next to you during the meeting. His claws dug into the doorframe as he tried to listen in while looking at you through the crack in the door.

"Oh, you're too funny." you said with a sigh, wiping a tear from your eye as you stared up at the handsome young werewolf.

"Why, thank you (Y/n). I take pride in my sense of humor." he said with a cocky smile, leaning into your space as he spoke.

"You should. I always laugh when we talk." You said softly with a sweet smile, seemingly leaning towards him as well.

"Well, how about I get you to laugh later tonight? Why don't we grab drinks after work tonight? There's a bar near my place..." he proposes to you with a smile, his fangs bared.

The door suddenly swung open before you could even contemplate an answer.

"There's a bright yellow sport car in front of the building getting towed. You better go get it, dog." The incubus growled through grit teeth, glaring into the werewolf's eyes.

"Son of a bitch... I'm so sorry, I gotta go. Think about what I said. I'll be expecting your answer after lunch." Ths werewolf softly purred to you before quickly walking outside the room. The incubus wasted no time and swung the door closed, letting it slam.

"What was that about? Coming to try snd get in my pants again?" You spat before rolling your eyes and starting to organize your papers. Gods, you were such a feisty human sometimes. He loved that about you.

"Technically yes." He chuckled, the rumble in his chest more appealing than you'd care to admit. "I didn't want anyone else around."

"I know you won't do anything unless I give my consent." You said bluntly as you tapped your papers together and tucked things away. You knew incubus couldn't do anything without some kind of genuine verbal permission.

"What? Oh fuck no. Nothing like that... Jesus christ, who do you take me for?" He sounded offended as one of his hands came up over his heart.

"A horny incubus that won't leave me alone." You groaned as you turned towards him, going to walk around him. Suddenly, his arm shoots out, blocking your path as he plants his hand on the wall. His claws were peaking out and leaving marks on the wall.

"You don't understand." He growls, a bit harsher than intended before he inhales deeply, trying to calm down as he runs a hand through his hair between his horns. "Once I have my target set on a mark, I can't change it unless they reject me."

"Then why do you keep coming back? I've rejected you so many times... Don't you have plenty of other girls that would be more than willing to give you a snack?" You pointed out how many women were always hanging all over him. It made you sick. Of course you wanted to fuck the hot incubus in the office, but you know yourself. You don't like to share. You like having a partner that's yours and yours alone.

"No. I've never encountered anyone that makes me feel like this..." He leans in towards your face and softly sniffs the air. "You smell so good... I can't think of feeding on anyone else right now... I think I just need a taste... just one night..." His voice is dripping in a pleading tone, bartering, but practically begging for you.

"I can't do that." You said bluntly as you avoided eye contact with him. The heat pooling in your panties didn't help your faltering moral defenses. You knew better. You had to stay firm. Firm like the bulge forming in his dress pants...

"Please?" His deep desperate voice broke you out of your daze as you softly gasped, trying to pretend to be offended instead of turned on as your face turns red and you glare into his eyes.

"N-no! I'm not interested in having a one night stand with you!" You barked, your chest heaving as you stared up at him. Your heart raced as you took in his appearance unintentionally. He was tall and slender, with sharp features. his typically carefully slicked back hair was a bit disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration. His horns were short and blunt usually, but you could see them growing by the moment. In fact, it seemed like his entire frame was growing.

"Oh." He purred. "I get it now." A wicked grin spread cross his face as you tried your best to maintain an annoyed expression. "You haven't been rejecting me because you don't want to sleep with me."

"What?" You jaw slacked open as you looked up at him in shock. "Why else would I be rejecting you?"

"You've been rejecting me because you want me so bad you know you'll want more." He chuckled, his other arm suddenly swinging around to cage you against the wall. "I can tell by how wet you were right now."

"That could have been from anyone else today." You scoffed, but you knew you couldn't pretend you weren't also starting to get desperate. Yiu also couldn't pretend that in an office full of monsters, most of them could probably smell your arousal whenever you had walked into a room.

"I'm an incubus, baby. A demon of pleasure. I can smell it in your blood how turn on you get from being around me." He chuckled with a grin. Fuck. He was onto you. "And it started shortly after I walked in the room..." Double fuck.

"Fuck you." You hissed through grit teeth, your blood pumping as you thought about how many times he must have known you were turned on by his presence.

"Oh babygirl, don't be so hostile. If you wanted more than just one night with me, we could easily arrange that." He starts to lean in close to your face, but you put a hand on his chest and push him back. You couldn't have him in your space like this for long or to hell with your morals.

"Look, I don't sleep with guys unless I'm dating them. I don't do friends with benefits or random office hookups." You finally admitted with a sigh, avoiding eye contact in embarrassment. Your hand on his chest alone was driving him wild. You had never touched him before. He felt his horns getting bigger as he struggled to keep his mostly human form intact.

"Wait, what? Why not?" He said as he finally processed what you said. It was hard to pay attention when you kept touching him.

"Because I know I get attached easily." You admit shyly, your voice nearly whisper quiet as you pulled your hand away. You had his full attention now. "Think about it. You're an incubus that needs to feed on pleasure to survive. You have a good routine going here with everyone else in the office from what I've heard." You let out a shakey sigh as you felt tears start to well in your eyes. "If I'm added into the mix, I know I'm just going to end up hurt... because it already hurts..."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean it hurts?" His voice has changed from frustration to worry mixed with confusion. He didn't understand what was hurting you.

"Excuse me?" You question, a bit confused by his confusion.

"What hurts you right now?" He asks, a bit more clearly as he stares into your eyes and gently cups your face. His touch makes you stiffen, although all you want to do is melt into his hand. As if he has some kind of truth spell on you, you take a breath and let out a soft sigh.

"Y...you do... you hurt me... I see how you talk to the other females in the office... it hurts... ever since I walked into this office I've found you attractive... I've only been here for a few weeks, and I've honestly already been looking to transfer to a different department so I don't have to be around you all the time." You admit softly, averting your gaze before his hand suddenly grabs your face by squishing your soft cheeks.

"What?! Hell no!" He barked with a growl. The thought of you transferring away from him made him enraged. He couldn't let that happen.

"Excuth me?" You mumbled through your squished lips, his grip firm, so you couldn't move, but not harsh.

"You heard me. Hell no." His grip on your face loosens as both his hands move up to hold the side of your head. The look in his eyes is wild, his pupils huge as he doesn't even seem to blink. "You've ruined me, so you don't get to run away from me like that."

"W-what?" You stutter confused, staring back at him as you tried to process his words. What does he mean you ruined him?

"If all you wanted from the beginning was to have me all to yourself, you should have said something." He mutters as his thumbs slowly rub your cheeks. His gentle touch makes you let out an involuntary sigh. "You've made me want no one but you since you got here anyways... your rejections were like being stabbed in the heart... God, without you around, everyone else smells like hot garbage... you smell like fresh summer rain that I wanna drown in forever..." He whispers to you as he moves his hands down your neck and to your shoulders before dropping down your back slowly.

"You really feel like that?" You whisper softly as a shiver goes down your spine. His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place as he presses his chest against yours. Your arms and papers squish between the two of you as his hot breath bathed your face.

"Yes. I mean every word... if you want to try and date me, I'd be more than happy to only feed from you." He slowly leans down and presses his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply as you can feel his hardening bulge against your lower stomach. "I just don't know how much longer I can wait for you... being this close is torture... I can take you on a proper date tonight, but..." His breathing seems to get heavier as you start to hear the ripping of fabric from behind him. "I need you." His eyes were filled with need at he looked like he was about to start drooling over the most deliciousmeal he's ever had. He was starving and desperate to just feel you. "Please."

"I need you too." You finally whispered, breathless yourself as this was finally too much. You hoped he was telling the truth, but your horny brain didn't even care anymore. You needed him just as badly in that moment.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I've needed to hear you say that." He lets out a relieved sigh and chuckles before a dark black tentacle comes out from the darkness and grabs your papers, throwing them onto the table. He wastes no time in pinning you to the wall, his wings bursting out from his back and ripping open the back of his suit. "Shit." He grumbles, quickly just tearing off the rest of the fabric on his upper body as he pulls up your skirt, making you wrap your legs around him as he grinds his bulge against your panties to tease you. You're about to let out a moan as he takes your soft lips in a deep kiss. You instead moan against his lips as your hands find his hair, gently tugging as he moans in return.

He's barely even done anything yet, and he feels like he just had a full meal. Your pleasure was so easy to stir and the buzz it gave him was addicting. This was dangerous. He didn't think you'd actually be so tasty. But you were now quickly becoming his new favorite meal. More tentacles manifested out of the darkness, wrapping around your arms and legs slowly as they explored your body and held you in place. The tentacles were warm and wet against your skin, almost feeling like strange tongues. You feel them pin your arms behind your back, your chest now pushed out as he rips the front of your blouse open. You gasp and squirm a bit about to complain about your shirt being ripped before he quickly silences you with a quick kiss.

"I can get you a new shirt, baby. Just relax and enjoy this." He purrs softly, making you shiver before his lips are back on yours again. He slides his tongue into your mouth and seems to be trying to taste as much of you as he possibly can. Two tentacles slide into your bra and wrap around your breasts, fondling them as they flicked your nipples. He quickly unbuckles his pants and pulls out his throbbing cock from his boxers, rubbing his length between your slick folds. He groans against your lips softly before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours.

Your brain is fuzzy as you look up at him, your eyes drunk with lust and he could swear you had hearts in your eyes. Your eyes flicked downwards and widened as he chuckled. He was bigger than you expected, but you weren't going to shy away from a challenge. However, before you could tell him to go ahead and fuck you, you felt a warm, slick tentacle move your panties to the side before prodding your dripping wet hole and slowly sliding into you. It was thick, stretching you slightly as it wriggled inside you against your most sensitive bumps inside you.

"I can tell you're a needy one... a secret kinky side... I like that." He groans as he bucks his hips against yours, rubbing his cock against your bundle of nerves. Your back arched as you couldn't help but let out lewd moans, another tentacle swiftly sliding into your mouth. "You're really enjoying this. I can't believe you resisted this for so long." He chuckles with a wicked grin. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth as you squirm, your eyes fluttering as the tendril in your pussy plays with your sensitive walls. Your face flushes as you felt yourself starting to get close already.

"Fuck baby... if you taste this good just to play with, I need to know how good you taste when you cum." He pants softly as you notice drool from the corners of his mouth dripping down onto your chest. His eyes are wild with lust as they dart over your body laid out just for him. His cock continues to thrust roughly against your clit, picking up the pace along with the two tentacles inside you. You don't know how much more you can take.

"Cum for me baby." He commands, making you shiver as you suddenly come undone. Your pussy contracts around the tentacle as you gag on the lne in your mouth. Your entire body trembles as you're fucked through your orgasm, the tentacles only pulling away slowly for a moment after you're done cumming. You're panting and gasping for air as the black tendril slides put of your mouth, your pussy red and puffy as the other slides out as well.

You're left whining softly as your pussy clenches around nothing and you try to catch your breath. You want to tell him you wanted more. That you wanted his cock. You needed it. Drool drips down your chin as he leans in to lick it away, pulling his dick away as the black tendrils move you to the large table. He begins licking the sweat from your body, leaving you wet and needy.

Once he finally moves to 'clean' between your legs, you're groaning and moaning softly with need. He licks up your thighs, stopping before touching your pussy. Your squirming in the grip of the tentacles still, bucking your hips as you pray for him to touch you. You're left whimpering and shaking with desire as he fixes your messy panties and pulls your skirt back into place.

"You really are needy." He growls as his eyes finally start to settle from their crazed daze. The tentacles slowly release you and he uses the shreads of his shirt snd jacket to ensure you're cleaned up. "But I can't get too carried away... not yet."

"I wish you could have." You whisper with a cheeky smile as he begins to clean your face of any spit or tears left behind. He chuckles lowly as he holds your face with one of his clawed hands. His eyes still held a burning desire for you, and you knew he saw the same in yours.

"You'll find out tonight. You took the bus today, right?" He asks as he manifested two of his shirts, opening one of them up and sliding it on your arms before beginning to button it up. You notice his more demon-like features starting to slowly go away, showing that he's much calmer now as he takes on his human appearance again.

"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow, wondering why he was asking. It wasn't uncommon for you to just take the bus when you didn't feel like driving in the morning. He quickly finished buttoning the shirt he put on you before putting on a shirt himself now that he won't rip it with his wings.

"Good. You're coming home with me after work." He said with a smirk as he buttoned up his shirt. You whined softly and bit your lip as he now covered himself. He helped you off the table, but held your hips as you stood in front of him now.

"I want you to save that energy for our date tonight."

"Oh really?" You giggle as you run your hand along his chest, undoing the top bottun to let a bit kore of his chest show. "You better finish what you started then." You feel him practically purr as he stares down at you with a mischievous grin.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster imagine #demon x reader #demon oc #demon bf #demon boyfriend

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adultbabystories · 2 months ago

Text

Somewhere Far - Part 2

A cold breeze got through Oliver’s window. Only a small crack was open, and yet he felt the coldness creeping in. It wasn’t winter yet, but it was coming. They were driving on a highway between fields. Maybe this open terrain welcomed the cold. The scenery was unfamiliar to him. They went between rural-looking places and industrial buildings. They drove silently for what seemed to Oliver like eternity, but it was only twenty minutes. Until the man spoke.

“Waffles, I’m so down for waffles, aren’t you?” he said.

“What? Waffles?” Oliver said, surprised a bit.

“Yeah, I know this best place not far from here that has the best waffles ever! Plus, eating waffles always brings such interesting chats.”

“So are we stopping for waffles or a chat?”

“Why can’t we have both?” he raised his two hands in a wondrous gesture, lifting them from the wheel for a second, frightening Oliver.

The sun had almost set, and they stopped the car in a parking lot next to a place that seemed like it was taken from the 90s. Both stepped out of the car, got into the diner, and sat in a booth. Oliver had been to this kind of place, but only the decor was in that style. This place was the real deal.

A gray-haired man saw them from the kitchen window and came to their table.

“Hey Garry,” the cook said. He looked at Oliver for a second longer than usual, then turned his face back to Garry and winked.

“Garr, what can I get you kids both?”

“Hey Pete, we’re in for the waffles, aren’t we Oliver?”

“Oh yes we are, we are all in,” Oliver answered, trying to go with the men’s positivity.

“Waffles coming up!” Pete vocalized the order as he turned away.

As Pete left, Garry stared at Oliver, like he had something to say, but didn’t. It made Oliver a little uneasy.

“You didn’t stop for waffles,” Oliver said to break the ice.

“But those are so good, you have to try them,” Gray smiled.

“Garry…”

“You got me kid, I wanted to talk before we get to my house. But those waffles are delicious either way.”

“I’ll eat, don’t worry.”

“I’m worried you’re going to eat my half!” Garry laughed.

“I’m all ears,” Oliver said, wanting Garry to say what he had to say.

“Okay, listen Oli, I’m going to be a bit serious right now, I’m just going to talk from my own past experience. Whatever your wishes will be, I’ll respect them all.”

Oliver planted his back to the booth’s seat, as Garry laid his elbows on the table.

“You are not the first guy that came to me for some adult baby time. With some, I had amazing times, with others, I waited at the airport, but they never came. The fact that you got into my car is amazing as it is, and I’m not joking. You are a very, very, very brave man. Yet, I want to go over my expectations from our time together, now that we have met face to face. Online interaction can be great, but physical interaction is completely different. Do you think it’s reasonable that I want to make sure we are on the same page?”

Oliver waited a second and said, “Of course”.

“I’m making an effort for you. My time, for you. Energy, for you. I’m going to make you my boy, my baby boy. Don’t you think Daddy deserved to know his boy is his?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t you think Daddies are to set rules for their baby boys?”

“Of course.”

“And if Daddy is going to list all the rules he expects you, his baby boy, to follow, with our upcoming time together, will you, honestly, say if you are up for it?”

Oliver took a breath. “Of course.”

“Before I break down the rules, the first rule is when I ask you something, you are going to answer and end your sentence with Daddy, whenever we are, wherever we are, understood?”

Pete appeared out of nowhere, with a huge plate covered with waffles and whipped cream drizzled with chocolate and sprinkles.

“Here you go, our famous waffles! Enjoy,” he announced and waited for one of them to respond to his gesture.

Oliver looked at Pete, then at Garry.

Garry kept his look on Oliver, the whole time, waiting for him to answer.

Oliver’s mouth became a little dry, he understood how Garry wanted him to answer right now. They were both in front of Pete, which made him uncomfortable talking like that next to a stranger. But he needed to answer, Garry was waiting.

“Yes… Daddy,” he replied softly.

Pete heard that, looked at Garry, winked towards him again, and said “Oh hell Garr”.

#Somewhere Far ABS

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heretherebeturtles-comic · 3 months ago

Note

⭐ for the ask game. 😄

Here There Be - Director's Commentary

Chapter 1 - Part 2 (pages 5-9)

aka I had a dream about the turtles being hurt/sad/scared limping through a sewer being chased by something and it made me sad so I decided to inflict it on everyone else ( owo)b

MINI-SHELLDON!!! Donnie and SHELLY are completely running offline at the moment. Despite being disconnected from his larger mental server, the little guy is doing a good job scouting ahead and building a rough map for the turtles.

Pizza Rat <3

Page 5 - Panel 5 is where I first experimented with the painting style for the comic. I wanted a watercolour look, but a thicker paint look comes more naturally to me. Finding the right colour to fit the vibe took some time. I was originally going for a more sickly colour, but there is a lot to be said about the struggle of putting characters with green skin in a green environment.

Mikey walks ahead alone, impatient, pulling them forward. Leo supports a struggling Raph; by no fault of their own, the two dictate the slow progress forward. Donnie drifts behind, disconnected. Or maybe they are just walking in a sewer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In the movie, Leo wears his swords over his right shoulder, but here he has them at his hip and out of the way so Raph’s arm can rest over his shoulders. This is only partially because I kept forgetting to draw the weapons.

THIS PANEL ^^^ made me feel dizzy while I was working on it >:( I'm not quite satisfied with the final effect here, but I'm not really sure how I could have done it differently? I look forward to solving that puzzle someday with more experience.

Page 8 - The page where I felt bad \( T^T)/ what kind of monster would hurt them like this? Raph is trying his best to not worry his siblings, but oh buddy... Anyway, do you know how scary it is when your older sibling is injured? You can know that they are human and capable of being hurt, but that doesn't stop how earth shattering it can feel to see them fighting tears and down for the count. (my older sibling I know you just followed this blog, don't even worry about it, ilyyy)

In the series we see that they are all capable of lifting super heavy objects, Mikey in particular is comically strong, so the struggle here isn't being unable to lift Raph up, but in trying to support him while he struggles to stay upright despite his injuries.

I prefer stories where the characters get equal attention and screentime. Each and every turtle is going through multiple things the same time even if it's not stated outright, don't even worry about it :)

Page 9 - OH boy, some of the faces on this page are so rough and off model, but redoing the first chapter is the comic killer. Returning to improve the beginning of a story is an endless cycle of perfectionism and the reason many web comics and fanfics end. Plus! I think its cool to be able to look back and see the progress! To watch page by page as a comic artist's skills grow over time!

My storytelling style, while frequently lighthearted and silly, is a bit more down to earth than ROTTMNT's usual high comedy tone. I'm glad folks seem to be vibing with it so far!

#HTB-TMNT ⭐️ Directors Commentary #htb-tmnt #i loooove using visuals to imply stuff :)#third and last ask/post of the night

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fairyysoup · 1 year ago

Text

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore.

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?”

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with.

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.”

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?”

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.”

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind.

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open.

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it.

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter.

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.”

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look.

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies.

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again.

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible.

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.”

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?”

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit.

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.”

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror.

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it.

Cocky bastard.

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places.

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation.

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for.

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time.

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back.

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?”

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?”

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?”

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right.

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander.

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all.

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.”

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?”

“Yeah, not too flashy.”

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up.

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you.

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven.

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck.

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?”

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.”

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat.

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more.

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather.

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same.

“Good girl.”

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume.

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling.

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.”

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours.

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.”

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger.

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes.

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down.

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.”

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it.

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #roses*#eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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mindfulstudyquest · 10 months ago

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❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗼𝗳𝗳-𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲-𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 ( just pretend i wasn't gone for months guys )

between smartphones, computers, ipads, and screens everywhere, sometimes i feel like i have pudding instead of a brain and i need to engage in three-dimensional activities that don't involve staring at pixels all day, here are some ideas to get in touch with creativity and real word again.

𝟭. drawing and colouring ( 🎨 )

whether it's drawing landscapes, characters from your favorite series or simple doodles, putting the pen on the paper relaxes me instantly. if you are not good at freehand drawing or you're simply lazy, there are many coloring books for adults with mandalas (my personal favorites) or animals/natural landscapes, also online you can find many drawings to color that you can print. in discount stores you can find packs of colored markers at a great price, after all we don't need to be professionals.

𝟮. puzzles and diamond paintings ( 🧩 )

i recently discovered diamond paintings and i'm obsessed with them, on amazon you can find many sets with amazing designs and composing them is really relaxing. having something to focus on for a few hours a day is really essential, puzzles are perfect for this purpose too.

𝟯. reading and writing ( 📚 )

this is a more challenging activity, when we are burnout the last thing we want to do is use our brain, but reading a good novel or writing down a few pages in your journal can distract you from the present moment and give you a bit of a break while still keeping you productive. every second spent reading or writing is a second invested in your personal growth.

𝟰. experiment with outfits and makeup ( ✨ )

i have a lot of clothes but zero outfits, my favorite activity is decluttering my closet, putting away things i don't wear anymore and experimenting with new styles. also sitting at my desk and trying new makeup that's different from my usual eyeliner and mascara, i find it so fun and it's a great way to reconnect with my image when i've spent a month stuck in my room studying.

𝟱. cooking and baking ( 🧁 )

i'm not a good cook and i've burned more cakes than i care to admit, but i have to say it's terribly fun and therapeutic, especially if you're cooking with someone. u think anyone who cooks professionally hates having a second person in the kitchen with them, but when friends make a cake (ugly but tasty) and then eat it together in front of a cup of steaming tea - now, now, that's real therapy.

𝟲. working out, dancing, doing yoga ( 🩰 )

put on some music, dance in your room, follow your workout routine, lay out a mat and do stretching or yoga, connect with your body after being locked in your mind, physical activity is very important to keep your mind fresh ( mens sana in corpore sano ). if you can, go to a park, or an open space, just be careful of excessive stimuli.

these are some of the things i do, feel free to comment on your de-stressing activities.

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tiamathh · 10 months ago

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DANCING ANGEL (37530)

Devotion

This asteroid was named after Ekaterina Pavlova, who was extremely talented in oriental dance and devoted her short life to the art. In my theory, wherever this asteroid is in your chart will show you where you're most devoted and talented.

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Houses

↑ 1st: Devoted to themselves, these individuals are big on self care and are really confident in their ability to complete and start new cycles at their pace. Their talents lie in being able to find their identity early on in life and also being a bit of a shape shifter, they can be whoever they want to be whenever they want to be whilst staying true to themselves and being authentic.

↑ 2nd: They're devoted to their family and may pursue careers that will provide them stability both emotional and financial, they are usually lucky with getting money through unconventional means too. Their talents lie in being able to make a safe and secure environment for the people around them as well as being extremely resourceful and helpful individuals.

↑ 3rd: Devoted to their ideas and usually their siblings if they have any, may admire them a lot and are also very devoted to learning about new topics. Their talents lie when it comes down to competing especially in regards to the mind and their communication styles are flexible, they can change their way of speech depending on the person they are talking to and are also very convincing.

↑ 4th: Devoted to their homes, especially the ones they make in the future for themselves and are extremely connected to their roots, may be close to maternal figures in their life. Their talents lie in building foundations for later generations, and are usually great in occupations such as therapy as they can help others decipher and understand their emotions.

↑ 5th: Devoted to individuality and self-expression, they are the ones who try to be as different as possible and rebel because it makes them stand out from the crowd. Their talents lie with the performing arts, people with these placements tend to have a commanding presence which makes leads to them naturally being in the spotlight, they're also great at working with children.

↑ 6th: Devoted to what they can do for others, usually workaholics because they simply like doing as much as they can and have high self discipline. Their talents lie in being able to stay in control and rational at their place of work, as well as making great leaders; due to their competence people are willing to follow them, extremely organised and healthy, they don't get sick easily.

↑ 7th: Devoted towards and in their relationships both romantic and platonic, they are big on mutual give and take but are more often givers. Their talents lie in being a mediator, they're a pretty good judge of character and have a natural ability to diffuse tense situations, they're also great at socialising with others and are quick to form lasting and important partnerships.

↑ 8th: Devoted in general, these natives never do something without complete devotion, are the kind of people to immerse themselves into all kinds of experiences. Their talents lie in being able to balance their energies and chakras easily, some may also be good at communicating with individuals from the afterlife or talented at astrology and divination as well due to their ability to sense energies around them.

↑ 9th: Devoted to understanding the depths of the world, questions like 'why?' and 'how?' come to mind, they're also devoted to their ideals and morals. Their talent lies in pursuing careers that are related to higher education as well as being able to learn languages quickly, they're also quick at picking up information about different cultures and they often bring others luck.

↑ 10th: Devoted to their vision and long term goals, they always look at the bigger picture and are often close to paternal figures in their life. Their talents lie in being authoritive and guide people through life, usually in a professional setting. They're great at being able to maintain a high reputation and can easily mask their true selves to exhibit the sort of public image they want.

↑ 11th: Devoted to the community, are also very concerned about giving back to nature and the community, usually extremely involved with social services especially volunteering at animal shelters. Their talents lie with being original, they may also be highly intuitive and be able to predict near future events, and are also great at getting people to start community service.

↑ 12th: Devoted to their subconscious and their intuition, they always listen to their gut and and usually go with the flow, believing that there is a plan even when they can't see it. Their talents lie with having psychic abilities such as bring clairvoyant, clairaudient, etc and they're also really good with shadow work, they can help bring closure to the people around them as well.

#asteroid #astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology notes #asteroid notes

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linaslore · 2 months ago

Text

h.s. | skinny dipping

a/n: i wrote this in two or three days after being stuck in a writer's block for some time and i have to admit, i'm pretty proud of it. it's a combination of different songs and bits and pieces of personal experiences as well. i hope you enjoy it!

warnings: some angst, language, slight mentions of bullying and parents' divorce. some details might be innacurate. english is not my first language. credits to the pics owners.

summary: harry and you used to be best friends when you were teenagers, but then you had a fight, which resulted in you drifting apart... until, years later, you bump into each other at a coffee shop. is it all water under the bridge now?

harry styles x f!reader.

🚫do NOT copy, translate or put my work thru an AI.

Moving was hard enough, but moving to another country? That was a whole new level. Understatement of the century, I know.

You had moved to Madrid a couple of months ago to continue your studies in Literature and you were very happy with that decision. Why wouldn’t you be? It involved new people, learning and trying to communicate in a language that wasn’t yours, new food, new music… But this week… this week was tougher than others because it was tainted with homesickness – you missed your home in England. You missed your parents, your dogs, your best friends, you even missed your little brother, who got on your nerves most of the time, but you still loved him with all your heart, of course. Even though you had work and your studies to keep your mind busy, there was still a dark cloud above your head filled with nostalgia, loneliness, and sadness that followed you around.

On Saturday morning, you woke up at 9 a.m., with faint sun rays peeking through your curtains, and, right there, you decided you didn’t want to be all mopey anymore.

You grabbed your phone, opened the trains app and checked what it offered. You opted for buying tickets to a town called Chinchón – it was only one-hour away from Madrid and from the photos you saw on the Internet, it looked picturesque. Going on a one-day trip to a beautiful town, wandering through its streets full of history and interesting architecture, eating good food and getting some vitamin D was exactly what you needed to remedy your aching heart.

After having a shower, you got dressed in your usual comfortable outfit: a pair of black denim trousers, a white t-shirt and your favorite baby blue jumper. Trainers were a must on this occasion so you put on your black pair of Adidas. You went easy on the make up: a lick of mascara and a touch of pink glossy lip balm. You went for a classic braid and took out some strings of hair in the front to accentuate your face.

Then, you proceeded to gather everything you might need for the day ahead: your purse, water bottle, some snacks for the train ride, your headphones, your sunglasses, the book you were currently reading, your journal, and some pens.

Once you were all set, you stepped out of your house and went to the train station. You had a feeling today was going to be interesting.

And little did you know…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The train ride to Chinchón was smooth and uneventful. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks provided a soothing background melody as you flipped through the pages of your book. As the train pulled into the station, you gathered your belongings and stepped out into the crisp air, greeted by the charming sight of Chinchón's rustic streets.

You wandered through the cobbled lanes, taking in the town's quaint beauty. You visited Plaza Mayor and the Torre del Reloj. As it was only 11.15 a.m.; the streets weren’t packed with people, but there still were some early risers who were enjoying the peacefulness of those surroundings.

Continuing your exploration, you found yourself drawn to a more commercial part of the town, where the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee teased your stomach and reminded you that you hadn't had a proper breakfast.

You entered this charming café called Loki, which had a husky dog on its logo and you got closer to the counter to place your order: un flat white y un rol de canela, por favor (a flat white and a cinnamon roll, please). You had learned to say that phrase in Spanish as if your life depended on it. Then, you sat on a small table near the window, so you could do some people-watching.

Once you got your drink and food, you took the warm mug with both hands and, sipping some coffee, you enjoyed the coziness it brought you. You savoured the first bites of the cinnamon roll as you watched the world go by from that spot by the window. The streets began to stir. A cheerful vendor moving around with a cart of vibrant flowers; two women chatting animatedly; a small group of children hurried along, and their parents following them around. You smiled to yourself at the simplicity of these everyday scenes.

When you were done with your breakfast, you put on your headphones to listen to some instrumental music and grabbed your journal to write whatever came to your mind. It was an activity that usually helped you organize your thoughts and make sense out of your emotions. And you have had your fair share of those recently.

You were so caught up in your journaling that you failed to notice how crowded the coffee shop had gotten in the last minutes. You removed the headphones from your ears and let some of the people’s talks and whispers get to you.

“¿Latte con leche de avena y un croissant de almendras para Harry?”, you hear one of the baristas call rather loudly. Your body stiffened and your heart skipped a few beats.

There ought to be more than one person in the world that asks for an oat milk latte and an almond croissant and also named Harry. It can't be him, right? That would be far too much of a coincidence...

The music on your headphones stopped when you pressed the pause button on your phone screen. You slightly turned your head to scan the café without seeming too obvious. You take in the sound of the coffee machine hissing, the clinking of the ceramic cups, the bits and pieces of strangers’ conversations, but your mind was focused on finding out if this Harry was the one you were thinking about.

Then, the air got stuck on your throat when you finally spotted him. Well, not exactly him, his back. However, you had no doubts it was him – you could recognize his tall and built frame anywhere, from any angle.

Putting your headphones on again, you pretended to be writing in your journal while you debated with yourself internally what you should do. You did know each other, but it’s been over a decade since the last time you saw him, a bit less since you last talked. You had heard some stuff about him on the news and you did follow each other on Instagram, but that was it. You were practically strangers, acquaintances if you were being a bit generous.

Should I approach him and say hello? Maybe I should keep my eyes glued to my journal, sip my coffee and pretend I have never seen him, or should I…?

“Y/N? Is that really you?”, a smooth yet husky voice interrupted your internal monologue – and so your body’s ability to perform basic functions such as breathing.

You looked up and your eyes met his green ones. After all these years, he was standing there in front of you in a coffee shop in a random town. He had a wide smile on his face, like he was genuinely happy to see you. You couldn’t help but mirror the warmth in his expression as you rose from your seat to hug him.

“Hi, Harry”, you whispered into his ear once you were wrapped around his arms. You tried not to think much of how soothing that felt.

“It’s so good to see you”, he rubbed your softly back before stepping away. He hesitated for a moment, then gestured toward the empty seat opposite yours. “Do you mind if I…”

You shook your head before he could finish his question, inviting him to join you. He happily obliged, and after taking a sip of his coffee, his gaze wandered back to you. His eyes softened, scanning your face.

“You have grown up, have you?”, he questioned teasingly, raising his eyebrows once or twice.

You felt how all the blood in your body suddenly rushed to your cheeks.

“Oh, you’re one to talk…”

He let out a laugh and took a bite from his beloved croissant. It was your turn to look at him. He looked different, yet the same. His signature curly hair wasn’t as long as it used to be, but some curls were slowly growing again. His boyish features were replaced with more mature, refined ones, and he now had a neatly-clipped beard and moustache. Despite all these changes, the face saw (and loved) every day for most of your teenage years was still there.

“Of all the places in the world, after all these years, I find you here. Isn’t that amazing?” he pointed out, giving you a half-smile but his voice carried a hint of disbelief mixed with nostalgia.

“Yeah, what is THE Harry Styles doing in Chinchón anyway?”, you lowered your voice when mentioning his name. He was wearing a cap and sunglasses inside the café. Those were proof enough he didn’t want any public attention.

“I’m here to film a new music video. We start shooting in a couple of hours, but I wanted to enjoy the town before that, so I woke up earlier and started wandering around”, he made a pause to sip his coffee. “I don’t get much holidays these days, so I have to make the most out of these situations", hs mouth tightened into a thin line. "And what about you, THE Y/N Y/L/N?”, he inquired, mocking your teasing tone.

“I don’t have many holidays either. I’m doing a graduate degree and working a minimum-wage administrative job, so I just came here for the day", you shrugged. "I needed a break from my routine… And missing home was making it worse.” He shot you a questioning look, not fully understanding what you meant by that last part. “I’m currently living in Madrid. I haven’t been to Cheshire since the winter holidays”, you clarified, and he nodded, impressed but not surprised. You always had this love for constantly learning new things.

The irony of all this situation was certainly not missed by you. The day you decide to do a trip to take your mind off your hometown, the universe sends you a breathing reminder of your old life. You could have laughed out loud.

He seemed to have read your mind because he said: “Like Alanis Morrissette said, ‘life has a funny way of sneaking up on you’”.

You nodded while smiling at the quote he casually came up with. Memories of the younger versions of Harry and you listening to Jagged Little Pill in his old bedroom back in Holmes Chapel flooded your mind. You could almost see and feel the band posters on the walls and the faint scent of old books mixed with Harry’s go-to cologne. You hadn’t realized until now how deeply that particular combination was embedded in your head still to this day.

The conversation then drifted towards small talk about your families, your careers and other things in between. It goes without saying that Harry won the contest for wildest updates from someone you hadn't seen in a while. Being one of the biggest musicians on the planet did the trick.

“I'm sorry, love, but I have to get going”, he said, checking the time on his phone. “I'm never going to hear the end of it if I show up late for shooting", you both laughed. "Anyways, it was great to see you”.

You nodded, agreeing with him out loud, but a voice inside your head protested, slightly disappointed he couldn’t stay.

“Why don’t you give me your number?”, he continued, his tone sweet yet insistent. “So we can meet again. On purpose this time”.

“I’d love to."

That came out quicker than you even realized. You ripped a piece of paper from your journal and wrote your phone number. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed briefly, sparking a subtle tingle. He glanced down at the paper, gave you a smile that reached his eyes, and tucked it carefully into his trousers pocket.

Then he looked up and said, “Next time, I promise I'll be all yours.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

One random Wednesday night, you were halfway through studying for your exams when the screen of your phone lit up, indicating you had received a notification. It was a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: I’ve been trying to figure out how to start this conversation in a witty, non-awkward manner, but it turns out I’m terrible. So I will play it safe: Hey, it’s Harry.

The so-called butterflies appeared on your stomach, and a foreign feeling of relief rushed through you. You forgot to ask for his number that day back in Chinchón, so you had no other choice but to hope he’d reach out. You started typing an answer shortly after saving his contact.

You: I agree, not one of your strongest suits, but it’s ok. Hi, H.

Harry: It’s been a long time since anyone has called me that.

You: Well, you practically forced me to do it. According to teenage Harry, it was “waaayyy cooler and mysterious”🙄

Harry: Teenage Harry had a lot of questionable ideas. I guess “H” was not that bad, was it?

You: It had its charm, yes. But if I’m being honest, at the time I only agreed to do it just to humour me.

Harry: I’m going to pretend you’ve never said that last thing 😔

You: By all means. Denial has always been your thing.

Harry: Ouch, don’t get all sassy on me, Y/N. Or I might start calling you “pumpkin” again 👀.

You let out a laugh. He gave you that nickname after an incident with a spray tan. You actually cringed at the memory of how orange your skin looked. That scene on Friends with Ross’ tan was nothing compared to you. And of course, Harry being Harry hadn’t spared you one second.

You: And here I thought I was meeting a more mature version of yourself.

Harry: That’s wishful thinking, love. Now that I think about it, I didn’t get to call you “pumpkin” enough. It was quickly replaced by “dottie”.

You audibly groaned, feeling the weight of Harry's teasing. You could practically sense his wide grin shining through his texts.

You: Oh, bloody hell. When are you letting that go?🙄

Harry: Never ever 😈 The image of you arriving at school wearing that polka-dot dress with the matching polka-dot leggins is forever embedded into my brain.

You: It’s not my fault the 2000s had questionable fashion trends.

Harry: Can’t argue with that, dottie 🤷‍♂️

You rolled your eyes, but in reality, you were enjoying this conversation a bit too much. You were about to type your response when the three bubbles appeared again, so you waited for Harry to finish sending his following text.

Harry: For the record, I missed you. Being able to talk and tease each other like this. Feels like no time has passed.

You: Aw, look at you, all older and more sentimental 🥹

Harry: Oh, come on. Can’t a guy show his emotions without being roasted? 😠

You: Ugh, fine. For the record, I missed you too. But don’t let it go to your head.

Harry: Too late, pumpkin 😏

Ever since that night, Harry and you talked nearly every day — you texted, you talked on the phone and on some occasions, you even facedtimed. He was spending most of his days in the US, working on his new music. Meanwhile, you were buried in your books, studying for the upcoming finals, while balancing it with your assistant job. Despite the distance between the two of you, your conversations flowed effortlessly.

Reconnecting with Harry was hands down one of the best things that happened that year; however, you couldn’t deny it also reopened some old wounds from one of the most painful chapters of your life: the moment you fell out of touch. It may sound dramatic, exaggerated, but it hurt you so much more than any other break-up you have had, even to this day.

You had been attached at the hip since you were little kids, living nearby in a small town, and all. Although you had other friends, he was your person, and you were his. He was your partner in crime in childhood adventures, and as you got older, your friendship developed into an unspoken understanding that no one else could match. He became your safe haven during the rocky waters of adolescence, always taking care of you, like that time he defended you from some bullies who had decided to pick a bone with you.

And as you can imagine, the feeling of taking care of the other went both ways. You stood by his side when he was dealing with his parents divorce and even though you were just a little girl, you understood your best friend needed you and that he didn’t deserve to feel sad, so you invited him to your house every day to play with him or watch your favorite cartoons.

You also had always encouraged Harry to follow his dreams, especially when it came to music. You didn’t like to brag, but you’d recognized his talent long before anyone else did, whether it was from hearing him sing along to the radio or humming melodies he’d made up in the moment.

You had always admired him. You could never deny that the lines of your friendship were a bit blurred sometimes. Spending all this time together, sharing experiences, secrets, and interests, as well as seeing how beautiful he was (inside out) made you develop a crush on him. The fact that he was also your first kiss sealed the deal. It happened at a school party where your classmates suggested you play spin-the-bottle.

However, that was not it. You both were always very keen on physical displays of affection, so hugging, cuddling and holding hands in the most random situations were not foreign to you. So, how could anyone blame you for falling for him?

And deep down, you had a feeling he had felt the same, but neither of you had acted on it because your friendship had always come first.

But then, The X-Factor came into the picture, and everything went south. You obviously supported him through every step of the way, in each and every audition, and you were the first one to find out the life-altering news: he was officially in One Direction.

Your mind later takes you to the memory of a quiet afternoon while you were lying on his bedroom floor, side by side, just hanging out, when he commented he was leaving for a tour through the UK and Ireland and that it also had prospects of expanding to the US and other parts of the world. You were on cloud nine for him; it was what he had always wanted.

Then he dropped the real bomb though — you still remember his exact words:

“Why don’t you come with me, Y/N?”, he asked shyly, in a whisper. “I don’t think I can stand being away from you for that long.” His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a clear sign of his nervousness.

For a moment, you felt as if your heart would actually explode. You were thrilled to hear he would miss you so much that he wished you could accompany him. But then, reality sank in and you realized you actually couldn’t drop out of high school; your parents wouldn’t allow that. And besides, you had some dreams of your own that required you to stay there in England. You wanted to study for a university degree. You wanted to buy a house in Holmes Chapel.

“Harry… I can’t go with you. My life is here, in Holmes Chapel. I can’t drop out of school for you. My parents won’t let me…”, you turned around to face him. “And besides, I want to stay here… I have some dreams of my own, you know.”

“I thought you would be by my side, no matter what”, he frowned, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, as if it would offer him any kind of consolation.

“That’s not fair, Harry. Being a musician has always been your dream, not mine. I want to stay here and go to college to study Literature.” You could feel anger boiling up inside of you. How could he just give you that low punch, after everything you’ve been through? “Just because I have different ambitions than you doesn’t mean I support you less or that I’m not happy for you.”

The way he just stayed there, without moving an inch to see eye to eye, either literally or figuratively, made you angrier. You got up from the floor, with your whole body trembling. You realized you didn’t want to talk or see him for now, so without saying anything else, you stormed out of his room and he did nothing to stop you. His sudden indifference hurt you far more than any other accusations could.

The days that followed your argument were filled with a heavy atmosphere. You talked to each other at school, but nothing more than what was necessary and you didn’t hang out much; only when other friends were present. You hated how forced everything felt. And it hurt like a shot to the heart. And worst of all was that the solution was pretty simple: talk to him to make him understand it wasn’t him, it was you, as cliché as it sounded, and that you wished him the best, and that’s it. But even from an early age, you both have had strong egos, so you wouldn’t talk to him unless he approached you, mainly because you felt he was the one who should start the conversation with an apology for the way he acted.

And then, just like that, the day he was was leaving finally arrived. Your mom casually met Anne in the supermarket that morning. She went there to buy some last-minute stuff that Harry needed, and she mentioned he was leaving that afternoon.

So, when your mum told you the news, you decided to swallow your pride and go to his house. You found him loading his bags in the car. You called his name, and he turned with a strange expression on his face, as if he was being caught doing something he shouldn't.

He was going to leave without saying goodbye? Without stopping by your house to see you one last time? The hurt on your face was not missed by Harry when the realization came down on you.

Despite all that, you forced a smile.

“I guess this is it…” You wanted to say so much. You wanted to tell him you were sorry for the fight, that you’d always support him, that you hoped this was the beginning of something amazing for him. But all you managed was, “Well, good luck, H.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You could see something flicker through his eyes, and he got closer to you, opening his arms, inviting you into a hug. You swallowed your tears and obliged. “I’m going to miss you”, he finally admitted in a whisper.

“Me too.” You took advantage of the moment to slide a small piece of paper into the pocket of his jacket.

“Harry, are you ready?”, Anne appeared at the front door, with her own bag and the car keys in her hands.

“Yeah, all set.”, he pulled away from your arms and gave you a half smile.

Anne greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and got into the driver’s seat. Harry looked at you one last time and got into the passenger seat, not before letting out a sigh.

You can imagine how the rest played out. Watching Harry leave was hard enough… accepting he was gone, though? That was a whole different story. The physical absence wasn't the main problem; the worst part was the void he left in your daily life. Those moments where you’d spend time together, laugh together, share unspoken glances, or even argue about the silliest things had become glaring gaps in your world. It felt like living in a house where someone had removed a wall, and suddenly, all the rooms were exposed and fragile. And despite all your efforts, trying to replicate that connection with other people didn't feel right – it felt impossible.

But the pain wasn't just about missing him. It was the blandness of your goodbye.

You regretted leaving things as tense as you did; that silly teenage argument was the cause of the dilution of your beautiful friendship. After that day, you talked a few times here and there, but nothing had ever felt the same. The timezone differences and the different life rhythms you had were also other factors. So, the texts and the calls became fewer and farther between and felt more awkward each time, until eventually, they faded entirely.

Your phone vibrating with a call brought you back from the trip down memory lane. You couldn’t help but smile at the contact name appearing on the screen.

“Hi, H.”, you answered with a warmth in your voice that you even surprised yourself.

“Hey, pumpkin. How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain, honestly. You?”

“I can complain…”, he paused dramatically and then shot back. “And actually, I will.”

“Do tell. What’s troubling your poor soul?”

Despite the fact that you couldn't see him, he rolled his eyes at your teasing, but then a smile quickly formed on his face.

“I have to go back home next weekend for my cousin’s wedding.”

Your laugh came out without any warning, and you unconsciously covered your mouth with one of your hands. To Harry, it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had heard in a while.

“Oh, who has suffered more? Jesus or Harry Styles?”

“Spare me, pumpkin. That’s not the real issue though. The thing is…”, he cleared his throat, his tone became more casual… maybe too casual, as if he was about to recite something he had been rehearsing. “You have always been better at picking formal outfits than me, so I was thinking… why don’t you come with me and help me not to embarrass myself in front of my whole family?”

“H, are you serious? You have an entire team of highly qualified people whose bread and butter is to keep you from looking like a mess.”

“That is true… but what's also true is…”, he sighed defeatedly. “I want you to go with me. You know I love my family but they can be a lot sometimes. And my mum and Gemma also want to see you. And I remember you mentioned missing your family too, so... We can even go to the Yellow Broom for burgers and fries for old times’ sake, but please, come with me."

The weight of his words came down on you all of a sudden. Harry was practically begging you to go with him; the prospects of seeing Anne and Gemma, whom you loved; and your parents as well; the thought of burgers and fries from your favourite place ever. You bit your lip, your heart rate picking up, buzzing with this new information. But then, the insecurities striked back.

“I don’t know, Harry”, you said softly, tracing the edges of your phone with your fingers. You wanted to accept his offer, but all these harbored feelings and unresolved matters were a ticking bomb. “We’re not who we used to be.” If it weren’t for your serious tone, he would have laughed at your choice of words. “What if things don’t feel the same anymore?”, you questioned him, defeat hit your voice as well. You truly enjoyed reconnecting with him, but you couldn’t avoid not bringing up the past, not anymore. It was your elephant in the room.

“I know were not the same, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, right?”

There was a silence on your end of the line, so Harry took the chance to continue expressing his point of view.

“Look. I had been mentally kicking myself in the groin every single day at how I handled things that afternoon. If I could go back in time, I’d do it completely differently, believe me, but I can’t. I was just a kid going through a lot of stress, and I messed up, and I hated how we drifted away from each other. And I tried to reach out again, but I didn’t know how, and everything came out forced and weird, and I was also afraid you’d hate me, so I ended up doing nothing.” He paused to gather some air and then continued with his confession. “But the other day, when I saw you in Chinchón, something inside my brain clicked. Call it whatever you want, God, the universe, fate, a mere coincidence, but it reopened some doors I was forced to close. All our memories came rushing back, and while I was shooting my music video, all I could think about was you and how much I’d missed you.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you square in the chest. Part of you wanted to let go of all the doubts and fall back into the familiarity and warmth of Harry’s presence. But the other was trembling with fear at the possibility of feeling abandoned again.

“I know it’s maybe too much to ask, but if you do decide to accompany me, we’d have the chance to figure out who we are and what we can be now.”

You stood there, holding onto your phone, letting Harry’s words sink in. You closed your eyes in an attempt to suppress the tears that were threatening to spill. However, these weren’t sad tears; these tears were filled with relief, with joy. The road not taken looked really good now.

“H… Ok. I’ll go with you.”

☀︎ the end!!!!! at first I thought of writing it as a one shot, but I got so excited to share this with you, that I decided to split it into two parts. i hope you enjoyed it. i had so much fun writing it. and of course, as always, i'd love to read your thoughts 💗

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #sabrina carpenter #emails i can't send #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic writing #one direction #x reader insert #x you #x reader #x y/n

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