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lilybuns1805 · 2 years

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˙⋆ ⁎⋆✩ Meal inspiration ✩° .* ✮˙

Do you struggle on a daily basis when it comes to thinking of something to eat? Are you tired of eating the same thing or do you want to get some new ideas? Then you might like this post!

I've been working on several meals and snack ideas and compiled them into one post. I'll be covering breakfast/lunch, drinks, and snacks.

I highly recommend making a small amount first so you can experiment a little bit and see if you even like it at all. Just be creative with it and try not to waste food (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

If I come up with more ideas I'll definitely make a part 2! Tell me what recipe you liked the most and share some of your ideas in the comment section or pm me (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

(Feedback is appreciated but keep it respectable)

.• °★ Breakfast & Lunch ★° • .

I chose to merge Breakfast and Lunch because I feel like the recipes could be eaten for both times of the day. It depends on what you prefer (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

Grains

- Porridge (~180-250 kcal)

(Wholegrain, Oats and more). I love making sweetened porridge with cinnamon and skimmed milk or vegan milk (oat milk or light soy milk). You can also make it more nutritious and filling by adding fruits!

Ingredients

- Grains 40~50 gr (depends on how thick you like your porridge. I prefer it on the thicker side) (~175 kcal)

- skimmed milk or vegan milk 300 ml (~90 kcal)

- (optional) spices (ground cinnamon, -nutmeg, -cloves) or vanilla extract

- (optional) add fruits if you like??

You can prepare the oats/grains in a pan or in a microwave safe bowl with intervals.

(TIP: Oats like to soak up moisture. You can also make these one night beforehand without heating it up. These are called overnight oats. Don't like the result? You can always just heat it up anyways ^-^)

- Cereals (~200-300 kcal)

I really like cereal but it's always so high in calories. I do feel like going for something like granola and muesli are the better options. You can eat those with 0% fat (vegan) yogurt, milk and quark. The instructions are pretty self-explanatory but you can try being creative with this by adding fruits (more volume) (^～^;)ゞ

- Rice Cakes (~260-360 kcal)

It depends on what brand you use but I suggest going for flavoured rice cakes. This adds more depth to the end product and there are many low-cal options! Snack-a-Jacks has very nice options varying from 30-61 kcal per rice cake.

You can go for sweetened rice cake and add toppings to your liking! I love going for a chocolate flavoured rice cake (61 kcal) topped with a bit of a chocolate spread (~59 kcal) and some berries (~25 kcal). It's so good!

If you prefer a savory meal, try going for a BBQ Bell pepper flavoured rice cake (37 kcal) topped with low-fat cream cheese spread (~40 kcal) with herbs, lettuce and some cucumber!

- Crackers & Knäckebröd

Likewise rice cakes, these have some nice options varying between ~24 and 59 kcal. I like topping these with savory stuff or with a fruit spread (like jam or marmalade).

I like topping this with low-fat cream cheese (~40 kcal) herbs, smoked salmon (~45 kcal) and cucumber. Very delicious and nutritious!

- Breads (200-450 kcal?)

Honestly, bread is becoming a fear food for me but it doesn't have to be this way. There are a lot of small breads that can be enjoyed without panicking! You can buy pre-baked breads like thin bagels that you only have to prepare in the oven or air-fryer. Depending on what you choose, one serving of this bread can be about 100-346 kcal.

Let's say you have a baked wholegrain triangle shaped bun (~270 kcal). You can slice this in half and now you have 2 pieces. You can add toppings like a low-fat sauce (mayo, cream cheese etc.) (~40-60 kcal), something that has protein like a slice of ham, salmon or vegan tuna (~25-45 kcal), some veggies like lettuce, cucumber and or cherry tomatoes and finally add herbs like chives, thyme, dill and rosemary. It all depends on what you like but you can really enjoy bread without feeling bad! Depending on what ingredients you used this yields two servings (two halves of the bun) making it around 200-250 kcal per serving.

You can also do this with a toasted piece of bread making it even lower in calories!

- Rolls (~200-400 kcal)

I'm talking about (wholewheat) tortillas and rice paper. They are so great! There are so many recipes online for wraps, burritos and spring rolls and more. you can get really creative with this.

I really love making wraps! I usually use a big wholewheat tortilla (~178kcal) and fill it up with something that contains lots of protein, veggies, a creamy substance and herbs. You can eat these as, warm up the tortilla beforehand in a pan or put it in a double grill. It really depends on what you're going for.

Some examples;

- Herby chicken wrap

A wrap filled with baked chicken breast seasoned with herbs, pepper and salt, some light mayo, bell pepper and lettuce.

- Light cream-cheese & smoked salmon wrap

A wrap filled with lettuce, (optionally baked in a pan) smoked salmon, low-fat cream cheese with herbs.

- hummus & veggies wrap

A wrap filled with smoked/ grilled bell peppers, arugula, lettuce and hummus.

Ever tried fresh spring rolls? I highly suggest making these since they are low in calories and so healthy and delicious! There are so many recipes available online and there are so many vegan options for these as well.

.• ° ★ Drinks ★ ° •.

I'm not saying that you should replace all your meals with Diet Coke. This section is to give you some perspective of how you can make your beverages more interesting or even replace a meal.

Meal replacements

This section is supposed to give you some insights on how you can make a healthy drink that is nutritious enough to replace a meal.

- Smoothies (~ 150-200 kcal)

I love making smoothies! You can REALLY get creative with this. I have to say I've never tried making smoothies with veggies but I do encourage you to try it all out!

My go-to basic recipe for this :

~ 1 cup of some fruits

~ 1/2 cup of a low-fat yogurt/ quark

~1/4 -1/2 cup of something liquid like skimmed milk or light soy milk (depends on how thick you like your smoothies)

(~ optionally, you can add flavoured protein powder and oats to make it more nutritious)

I do suggest to taste the mixture during this whole process! Sometimes you'll need to add more liquid or more fruit. I also like to add flavours such as zero sugar vanilla syrup or cinnamon and nutmeg depending on the fruits I used.

- Meal replacement shakes: upgraded

I've tried meal replacement shakes before and I found the taste to be quite weird to be honest. I noticed that adding fruit made it a whole lot better! This is basically a variation to smoothies but it's really specifically for these kinds of shakes.

There is no recipe for this because it depends on the brand but I recommend fruity or vanilla flavours. You just follow the instructions on the packaging by adding the powder and the liquid to your blender. Add the fruits to your liking (I'd say about half a cup) and blend until smooth.

Cold Drinks

I really like cold drinks like iced coffee lattes or fruit milks but I honestly forget to drink most of the time. Maybe these suggestions will spark some joy and make you drink those (at least) 2 Liters that you need!

- Coffee (~0-60 kcal)

It sounds so basic and stupid but I really prefer my coffee cold and creamy. Even though it sounds so basic you can really get creative with coffee. There are over 20 kinds of coffee blends! Imagine what you can whip up at home :D

My go-to coffee is a latte with sweetener, skimmed milk or light soy and a low calorie syrup like hazelnut, vanilla or caramel.

- Fruity Milk (~ 50-100 kcal)

You can drink this as a snack, self-care drink or to include some fruit in your meal. Whatever reason you may have it is delicious! You cut up some fruit like banana, strawberry or mango and add it your blender with some skimmed or vegan milk. Depending on how much you want to make, I'd say start with a 1:1 ratio. 1/2 cup of fruit and 1/2 cup of liquid. You can add either one of the two as you go.

I recommend tasting the end result before serving. If it's lacking sweetness you can add a bit more fruit or use sweetener!

- Flavoured Water/Iced Tea (~0-5 kcal)

This is a must-have in the summer because it's just so refreshing and it's easy as well!

You basically store some fruits and herbs in some water. I suggest a big bottle or a pitcher.

Add the flavouring (make sure to clean your fruits very well. I even suggest leaving them in a water bath for 5 minutes in case there are insects and pesticides.) For the flavours you can use fruits, herbs, spices and more! Just anything that you would like. I love the combination of watermelon, strawberry and cucumber. But sometimes a simple flavour like lemon or lime can be so good as well!

I suggest adding some sweetener if you like your end result a bit sweet. You can compare this to making (iced) tea!

Iced tea is very easy to make. Just brew your favourite tea and add some sweetener then leave it for about 5-10 minutes. Now you can just store it in the fridge and after about 30 minutes you have iced tea. If it's too strong, just add some water.

(TIP: Use carbonated water for the flavoured water recipe for a fizzy result! If you like your iced tea fizzy as well, just make sure that you make a highly concentrated tea and mix the end result with carbonated water and voila!)

- Zero Calorie Drinks/Energy Drinks

Honestly, these can be lifesavers if you lack the energy or you crave a coke or something. There are so many brands that sell zero calorie drinks like Coca Cola and Monster. I also really like the brand 'Candy Can. They have a very cute assortment of candy flavoured drinks. There are a lot of different brands out there and I recommend trying it all out!

.• ° ★ Snacks ★ ° •.

I don't snack that much but when I do I usually end up bingeing. It can be hard to control this kind of behaviour when you don't live on your own or when you are too tired to make something. That's why I'll try to help you with this section (^-^)/

Veggies & Fruits

I know it sounds boring but hear me out, fruits and veggies are low in calories, high in fibre and vitamins and good for your stool. For these reasons and more you should really try to eat these as a snack. And you don't have to eat these plain!

- Veggies and Hummus/Dip (~100-150kcal)

Sure, some people enjoy their veggies plain or with a bit of seasoning but for other people this just doesn't cut it. It's too plain or it doesn't satisfy you enough. This is why you can cut up your veggies in sticks and dip them in a yummy paste like hummus or a salad.

With salad I mean a thick paste usually made out of mayo, seasoning and eggs, fish or meat. I think it's a dutch thing but you can easily make this yourself! My favourite is a chicken curry salad.

- Mixed Fruit Salad (~50-100 kcal)

This is basically a salad made of cut up fruits and thrown into a bowl. I really love eating these and you can add a bit of low-fat yogurt, sweetener and lemon juice to make a fruity fresh salad!

- Frozen Fruit Bark (~25-100kcal)

These are very fun to make if you have some time left and want to prep a future snack. I saw a video online and it honestly looked so nice. You basically mix some low-fat yogurt with sweetener or honey and some fruit. Pop them in the freezer and cut them up in bars!

- Fruit Popsicle (~20-60kcal)

These are so refreshing during spring and summer! You basically make a smoothie out of fruit, optionally sweetener and yogurt. You pour the mixture into your popsicle moulds and throw them in the freezer. I really love making these with mangoes and low-fat vanilla yogurt/ quark. For a creamy texture you have to make sure to blend thoroughly until it's smooth and there mustn't be any lumps or bits!

Grains

- Mini Flavoured Crackers/Rice Cakes (69-96kcal)

These are perfect replacements for crisps in my opinion! They are crispy and come in various flavours. From sweet to savory!

- Mini Wholegrain (Flavoured) Cookies (~200-250 kcal for a whole package)

These are great if you have a bit of a sweet tooth. You could even finish a whole pack without feeling too guilty. !

- Wholegrain Bars (~100-150kcal)

You can make these yourself or buy them at the grocery store. I feel like you'd be better off financially by making them yourself. This way you have more control over the size and ingredients. There are many recipes for these!

.•˙⋆⁎✩. ° ★•˙⋆⁎.*✮°.*°.

#4na blog #tw ed vent #ed diet #tw weight #tw ed in the tags #tw eating issues #twed #restrictive ed #4n4 diet #tw 4n4 #4n4 #4n4mi4 #4n0r3x14 #4n4m1a

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haik-choo · 4 years

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karasuno boys as boyfriends

a/n: im just basically astral projecting myself into these situations; ALSO if you want more detailed ones, just ask, and you shall receive! (also this is my first post i’ve written on here! but if you want plenty of kpop content i’m @hyucksong where i’ve been writing and I am still active! :))

---

[KARASUNO BOYS AS BOYFRIENDS HEADCANNONS]

-tsukishima, yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama, tanaka, nishinoya, sugawara, daichi, and asahi

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tsukishima kei.

the type to look you straight in your eyes when you ask for a hug and say “no, who do you think i am, your boyfriend?”

runs his hands through your hair from the front and then when his hand reaches the back of your head he pulls you into him and kisses you either on the forehead or the lips <3

in order to be in a relationship with him you HAVE to have the same type of humor.

i don’t think he could date someone who doesn’t make fun of people with him

you guys are like best friends who make fun of each other and. make out a little every once in a while

he’ll hold your hand and hug you in public but he will NEVER do anything else, especially not in front of the boys

he thinks the blush that ignites on your kissable cheeks should be for his eyes only

he gave you a keychain that had a cute little strawberry shortcake on it. and it’s your most prized possession

will shoot a glare at anyone who watches you too closely. like no. don’t get googly eyed over MY girlfriend.

and you don’t have a problem with that ;)

yamaguchi tadashi.

he likes to watch you when you’re not looking to pick out the little habits you do

he thinks that knowing someone’s little hardly noticeable habits is one of the most intimate things on mother earth

he knows that you stir the milk in the bowl three times before you pour the cereal in to check for chunks because you accidentally drank spoiled milk when you were younger

NEVER has an issue getting you a gift for any occasion. he ALWAYS knows what you’re looking at and what you want and you lowkey think he can read your mind but in reality he just pays attention <3

you’re either just as shy as him to bring out his more assertive side or more assertive than he is to bring out his more timid side -- both are good

kisses you on the forehead and holds your hand in public -- he loves PDA because he can show you off :’)

yes. he kisses the back of your nape in public. so what.

YES. HE CLOSES HIS EYES WHEN HE DOES IT AND ACCIDENTALLY INHALES YOUR SCENT AND WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR THAT YOU SMELL GOOD. IDC IF YOU THINK THAT’S CREEPY. IT’S CUTE. YES. HE GIVES YOU THAT LOOK THAT SAYS HE’S CRAZILY IN LOVE WITH YOU. SO WHAT.

kageyama tobio.

he probably fell in love with you because you were just as passionate about something else as he is about volleyball; music, drawing, writing, math, science, reading -- whatever

i see this relationship as being one that’s like...accelerated friends. like,,, you act like him and hinata except you kiss sometimes and he can see you at the end of the wedding aisle

DEFINITELY reads cosmopolitans once you start dating because he wants to be a good boyfriend for you <3

PDA is literally little to NONe,,, not because he doesn’t like it...it’s just because he doesn’t realize that he’s not showing you affection lololol

like in one arm he has his athletic duffel bag and the other he has a volleyball

he doesn’t mean to neglect you he just does AGAGAG

realized he liked you when he thought about you when he was drinking his milk and mindlessly bought you one too

the first time y’all kissed. he literally stared at you so intensely for a SOLID ten minutes debating in his head whether or not he should just go for it or wait or just smash his face into yours and hope your lips connect

he chose to cross his fingers and ended up smashing his forehead and nose into yours

it was cute tho <3

hinata shoyo.

YALL HAVE DATES WHERE YOU BABYSIT HIS SISTER. WTF SO CUTE

when yall cuddle and you’re the little spoon he likes to put his head on your shoulder/between your neck and watch as you scroll through tiktok or instagram and just mindlessly talk about his day

the type of boyfriend where neither of you can cook and you both confusedly look at recipes on google like: ????? wtf is the difference between brown sugar and regular sugar

it’s his INSTINCT to hold your hand. no matter what. his hand just...gravitates to yous.

AND HIS LIPS JUST FIND YOUR CHEEK??? like it’s so natural to him to kiss your cheek when he sees you, even in public. it’s so adorable i--

THE TYPE OF GUY TO WIPE OFF FOOD FROM THE CORNER OF YOUR MOUTH AND STILL EAT IT AND SAY “you taste good!~” AND NOT EVEN REALIZE WHAT HE SAID. BUT WHEN YOU DO IT TO HIM HE BLOWS A FUSE

he loves to tickle you. like you’ll be vibing, drinking whatever you drink in the morning and he’ll come up to you all casually and kiss you cheek...and then he’ll pounce

he holds you close to his chest when he tickles you, partally because he likes feeling your laugh vibrate on his chest, and partially because it’s easier to not get tickled if he’s right behind you

his sister LOVes you and it just. makes him so happy

tanaka ryuunosuke.

you CANNOT remove his hand from your ass. it is permanently glued there. it is attached to you. yes, even in public.

number 1 hypeman! he will always support you, no matter what! you could be in a competition to raise the biggest beetle and he’ll be there rooting you on and staying up late with you as you rear your award-winning beetle

you two lay next to each other on the couch/on his bed and he’ll have his arm around you and you’ll lay your head on his chest as you watch netflix shows

YOU, NISHINOYA, AND TANAKA? UNSTOPPABLE TRIO. POWER TRIPLET.

i don’t imagine him being shy when he first kisses you; the first time he kissed you, you were literally just. existing and he literally just...couldn’t hold it in...and he just went for it

literally CATAPULTS himself into you and kisses you senseless

yes you and saeko are besties she gives you ALL the tea about young tanaka

the type to take off his shirt more during practice if you’re there watching, and literally BURN red if you mention anything about his muscles

you once traced a vein in his arm and commented on how hot it was and he literally short-circuited

kiss his biceps. kiss his abs. kiss his cheek. please. it’s all he wants. he’s touch-starved

nishinoya yuu.

SUCH an excited boyfriend

like he seriously gets so hype doing ANYTHING with you pleaSE give this man an award. you’ll be at the amusement park and the line to get into a ride will be three hours and he’ll be like

“I get to spend three hours with you?!! fucking sick! absolutely radical!”

he’s bold in public, but only because he wants to rub you in his teammates faces, but his ears will be Red

at home, he’s calmer :) he just loves to spend time with you, even if you’re sitting on a bench watching him practice receives for five hours straight in the blazing sun.

he just treasures your time so much, you treats you like a precious gem -- he will NEVER treat you wrong. deadass has no problem admitting when he’s wrong -- but if he thinks he’s right then he WILL stand his ground

he’s a passionate man, who loves just as passionately.

his favorite time to kiss you is after you’ve taken a sip of a soda because he likes the taste of the syrup and the burn of the carbonation, but most of all because he likes the taste of your lips in combination with all of them

NIPS AT YOUR EAR. DEADASS JUST LOOKS AT YOU BRUSH A PIECE OF HAIR BACK WHEN YOU’RE DOING HOMEWORK AND IS LIKE “free real estate” AND C H O MPS

the day nishinoya told everyone yall were dating, kiyoko stopped you in the hallway and deadass got on her knees and thanked you LITERALLY she was like “i’ll buy you anything. give the word and it’ll be yours.”

sugawara koushi.

would kiss you on the first date. deadass. he’ll just drop you off at your doorstep and you’re still high on adrenaline, and you’re lowkey hoping he’ll kiss you and you get little disappointed when he doesn’t and then when you least expect it. bam. his lips on yours

his smell oh god, he literally smells like fresh sugar cookies. it’s like as soon as you get anywhere near him his smell just invades you nose and. you’re powerless. you just wanna hug him

never smells bad. try me, bitch. NEVER.

his hugs are literally god’s gifts. he loves hugging you. he just completely envelopes you with his pretty setter arms and his smell takes up all the space in your head and nothing else exists for that moment, just you two

loves tucking your hair behind your ears or just moving it out of your face; doing homework and your bangs are in the way? not for long because he’ll clip them up for you <3

he’s pretty mischievous and will playfully put his hand next to your head and lean down with such a HOT look in his eyes

and he’ll say some shit like “i wanna devour you” and then he’ll laugh afterwards and give you a kiss on the forehead and you’re standing there. like -.- o.o -.- o.o

whenever he feels insecure about his position on the team, you’re always there to comfort him and he’ll just lay between your legs and rest his face on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair and scroll through tiktok

PDA? yes please. uh huh. mhmm. he doesn’t care who sees his love for you he just wants to love on you baby. kisses you on the lips, no problemo

daichi sawamura.

you and suga are the only ones who can scare him when yall are mad lol

boyfriend where you’ve dated for like a year but it feel like 50 have already passed. in a good way!

this relationship is so ungodly domestic. like from the first day it’s just pure comfort and he’s like your rock and you’re his anchor

you two bicker a lot but it’s lighthearted and you just feel so secure with him that poking fun at him and at yourself is just natural

daichi. gives. god. hugs. he does. it’s fact.

his arms are just so big and he has so much body warmth and he probably smells like some bullshit cologne like “smoldering woods” and it’s just so. daichi

you two spend the night at each other’s house so often it’s like you already live with each other and people always forget that you don’t lolol

totally sleeps with his shirt off and only with underwear. isn’t awkward about it either; when he wakes up he puts on sweats but still remains topless (not that you’re complaining)

you two are like. the strict parental couple, when you walk together whether it be down the street or in the hallways, you just look so right for each other it’s. mind blowing

doesn’t mind kissing you a little in public but really thinks that stuff should be for private; so normally he just kisses your temple and always has an arm either around your shoulder or around your waist

WHEN THE TEAM SEES YOU KISS ON THE LIPS THEY GO “EW” EVEN SUGA AND ASAHI AFIEFHEWIF

asahi azumane.

literal fucking teddy bear. god please cuddle him. please kith him. please comb through his hair with your fingers and kiss his nape and kiss the back of his head. please i beg of you.

did NOT ask you out first. he wrote love letter to you and then waiting behind the gym because he thought being near the volleyball gym would give him some luck and them you got in front of him and he was. deer in the headlights

needless to say you asked him out and kissed his cheek. he DIED

even once yall are comfortable in the relationship he still needs reassurance every once in a while because he’s a little insecure, not that you’ll leave him for someone else, but that he’s not good enough

his PDA skill are. subpar. he usually just holds your hand and that’s it, but sometimes kisses the corner of your eye or nose and you just combust

OH RIOGEH TOTALLY DOES BUTTERFLY AND BUNNY KISSES. YES GOD YESSSSS

when yall cuddle he doesn’t like spooning. he likes to be able to see your face and the expressions you make, so doesn’t like being the little or big spoon; yall face each other and just lets your head lay on his arm even tho it’s numb. im: soft

kisses are so sweet, slow, and hesitant. he doesn’t really kiss you often because he has terrible timing but...when he does it’s like the whole world just becomes still in that moment and nothing matters but his hands on your waist and yours in his hair

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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CROWDED PLACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, cursing, some handcuffs)

WORD COUNT: 7.8k

CATEGORIES: roommate!harry, bi!y/n

MASTERLIST | TALK TO ME | REST OF THE BIFICATHON

a/n: here is my entry for @harrysclementines and i’s bificathon (view them all here)!!!!!! i had prompts 18 and 19 (”Y/N brings home girls and guys (roommate!harry)” and “Harry asks her about the differences in sex between guys and girls”) and here’s what happened. as a bi person i had SUCH a fun time writing this, and i hope you enjoy. named for the BANKS song of the same name. xoxo, love u all my bi angels!

“Are you saying I can just have sex in your bed without you there?”

You grimaced. “Actually on second thought, please don’t do that.”

“Only with you present, I promise.” The words were out of his mouth before he had even processed them, the unabashed flirtation so sexual and clear. It made your eyes widen and you stop midway through the sip of wine you were about to take. He didn’t even know what to say after that—did he apologize? He couldn’t read your face, couldn’t see if you were okay with his words or made you uncomfortable.

“H, are you trying to get me into bed with you?”

The nickname you had for him fell differently in this moment, the sexual context sending blood straight to his pants. “What if I was?”

Y/N is bi, Harry’s her roommate and curious

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry found out you were bi by walking into your shared kitchen and finding a girl struggling to figure out your shared intricate coffee maker dressed in your clothes, her hair tangled around her shoulders.

“Need help?” He asked, walking toward the stranger in his kitchen.

The girl’s head bounced up at the sound of his voice and sighed. “Fuck, you scared me. Uh, yeah, thanks. I was trying to make coffee for Y/N but…”

He chuckled to himself and nodded for the girl to move to the side. “Nice of you.”

“I’m Emily, by the way,” the girl told him. “You’re Harry, right? Y/N mentioned she had a roommate last night.”

Harry flicked some buttons on the machine, fiddled with the coffee filter, and then the machine whirred to life. “Yeah, I’m Harry. Y/N mentioned she was going to some club last night—that where you two met?”

The girl nodded, leaning against the counter. “Yeah.”

Harry paused, not really knowing what else to say over the sound of the coffee dropping into the cup situated below the spout. He had come in for some breakfast and coffee, but he didn’t really want to make small talk with your hookup of the week, if he was being honest. So he decided to table coffee, and instead grabbed a box of cereal from the cabinet and the milk from the fridge and made himself some cereal.

“Nice meeting you,” he said to the girl before turning around and heading back to his room.

“Bye,” Emily replied and with that he left the kitchen, beelining for the safety of his own space.

Settling down into his bed, he thought about the girl in his kitchen and you, obviously still tucked into your bed. You two had never really had the conversation about your sexualities—you’d become roommates last year through an advertisement you placed on Craigslist and had spent most of the year just figuring one another out and becoming friends. The topic had never really come up and he had just assumed—wrongly, apparently—that you were straight, since he only really saw you with guys. Although, to be fair, there were nights that you didn’t come home and he didn’t know where you ended up on those nights.

He didn’t care in the slightest, just intrigued by this new piece of information he had discovered. He was curious, if he was being honest, but he didn’t really know if it was his place to ask you about it. Was that rude? He didn’t really know. He’d never just…found out about his friends’ sexuality like this, usually they told him outright at some point, so he was in uncharted territory.

Perhaps he’d just let you bring it up. Or he’d mention that he had met Emily in the kitchen, and see where the conversation went. He settled on the latter, deciding that would open the discussion up but not be too aggressive. More than anything, he wanted you to feel comfortable talking to him about these kinds of things, and also know that he didn’t mind who you brought home or dated.

So, he settled into his pillows and turned on Netflix, starting up a crime documentary he hadn’t seen yet, and ate his cereal.

When he resurfaced two hours later, you were in the kitchen with a skillet of eggs cooking, scrolling through something on your phone and sipping on a cup of coffee. You greeted him with a quiet “good morning” and he responded with the same, before going to the sink to rinse out his bowl and place it in the dishwasher next to him. Then he grabbed himself a cup of coffee, adding a dash of milk, and settled in at the breakfast bar.

“So,” he said, making you turn and look at him. “I met Emily this morning.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but then you nodded. “She told me. Said you helped her with the coffee maker.”

“I did.” He took a sip of his coffee and paused, unsure of what to say next. “She seemed nice.”

You stood up and fully turned so you were facing him, your phone forgotten on the counter. “Yeah, she is.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

You seemed a bit shocked by the question, but shook your head. “I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

There was the confirmation he’d been seeking—that Emily had in fact been a hook up. “So all the people you’ve brought back…?”

“Are just some fun,” you finished. “Where’s this all coming from? We don’t usually talk about this stuff.”

“I was just trying to figure out if I needed to prepare to have another roommate,” he quipped, and you snorted before turning back around to where your eggs were sizzling in the pan.

“What about you?” You asked him, using the spatula next to the stove to lift the eggs out of the pan and placed them on a light blue glazed plate, one of the ones you’d bought when you moved in and adored. Harry was banned from using them, relegated to the white porcelain ones he’d purchased.

“Sorry?”

You grabbed the salt and pepper and sprinkled a bit on your eggs, then grabbed your slices of toast from the toaster where they were waiting. “Are you looking to date right now?”

He hadn’t been expecting you to throw the question back at him, but he figured you had every right to. He’d asked you, why not share himself? “I mean, if I met the right person I would be. But I’m not like, actively seeking a relationship.”

With a set of silverware in one hand and your plate in the other, you walked towards him, setting your food on the counter on the other side of the bar so you could face him as you ate. For some reason, you loved to eat standing up and it had never made sense to him. “So you’re not on dating apps and all that? Hinge and that shit?”

He shook his head as you swiveled to grab the jam from the fridge and began to spread it on your toast. “I can never figure out how to talk to people on them. They’re just so awkward.”

You nodded in agreement before taking a bite of your toast. “Meeting people in person is way better. I tried one once and it was so unpleasant. Felt like so much work, you know? Like finding someone shouldn’t feel like a part-time job.”

He chuckled to himself at your observation. “Right? I’d rather just meet someone through friends or something and talk to them, be able to figure out in person if there’s something there.”

“One time I’d been talking to this girl on Bumble for two weeks, we met up, and I immediately was like, ‘fuck I have no sexual interest in her.’ You know? Like there was no chemistry. We would’ve been great friends, but the other stuff? Nada.” You always talked with your hands and even did in this moment, you slice of toast in one hand and a fork in the other.

“What’d you tell her?” He asked, taking another sip of his coffee as you took a bite of egg.

“The truth,” you said, covering your mouth as you spoke and chewed at the same time. He loved how comfortable you two had become with each other, the natural result of sharing an 800-square foot apartment with another person. “And then she texted me like a month later saying she thought ‘We had really good energy’ and wanted to see if I was interested. So I had to tell her again that I wasn’t interested.”

“Shit,” he said. “That’s brutal.”

“Yep,” you replied, popping the p of the word as you took another bite of your breakfast. “So, what are you up to today?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

“I was planning to go to IKEA to look at a new bed frame and look at all the room set-ups—want to come with?”

It was one of your favorite shared activities, which you had discovered when he had moved in and needed to buy a whole host of new furniture. You’d tagged along since you knew the apartment better, and you’d ended up spending practically the whole day inside. Since then, it was your rainy day activity.

“What’s wrong with your current bed frame?”

You shrugged, picking up your toast and taking a final bite. “It creaks too much. I think it’s just old, so I want something different.”

Harry tried not to think about why your bed creaked so much, and instead told you he’d come with.

Harry was pushing you around IKEA and frankly you were having the time of your life. Just to piss him off you’d gotten into the cart, folding up your body and leaning against the front of the cart, and he’d just rolled his eyes at you and called you a child before rolling the cart towards the entrance to the store.

You had made it through the bathroom section without much incident, but when you had reached the living rooms you had decided that you simply had to try out all of the couches, even though neither of you needed to buy one. Together you developed a rating scale—firmness of cushions, bounce level, and ability to lay down comfortably. A couple ranked high on all three scales, but none just blew you away, so you jointly decided you definitely didn’t need to invest in another couch for no reason.

In the kitchen department, you both oohed and ahhed over countertops and backsplashes, pointing out appliances you desperately wanted. You tried to convince Harry that you really needed new bar stools, but he wasn’t swayed. However, he did relent and allow you to buy some new spatulas and other kitchen utensils after you told him they were replacements for the current ones, which were two years old at least.

Finally, you reached the beds. Bed after bed laid out in front of you, just waiting for you to try them out and see which one was both sturdy and sleek. You beelined for the first one, sitting down on the mattress and looking up at Harry, who was leaning on his elbows on the handlebar of the cart and watching you.

“Come test it out with me,” you said, patting the bed next to you. “I need to see how the weight of two people feels on it.”

His eyebrows furrowed, but he left the cart and moved towards you. He was dressed in one of his favorite sweatshirt, a black one he’d gotten in Tokyo at a DJ Harvey and Keb Darge party, and a pair of blue jeans with a frayed hem, and white Vans with the pink and blue laces you’d given him for his birthday threaded through each one of the shoes, a beanie covering his curls and his black sunglasses tucked into the neck of the sweatshirt. You adored Harry’s clothes, frequently stealing them which he found aggravating and you loved doing for that very reason.

He settled on to the bed next to you, his knee knocking against yours as he settled back on his hands. “So? Thoughts?”

His eyes flickered over to you. “Seems sturdy enough, but I hate the headboard.”

You turned to look at the headboard, which was just one long piece of skinny blond wood. Upon investigation, you also hated it. “Agreed. Next one!” You scampered over to the next one, which had a wrought iron headboard in black and you quite liked the look of it. The rest of your furniture was black and your duvet was a light blue, so it would fit in perfectly. “What do you think of this one?”

Harry moved to sit next to you and shrugged. “Seems good.”

“The headboard up to par for you?”

“I like it. You?”

You nodded and then looked at him, deadpanning, “You could hook handcuffs through it.”

Harry choked on air, before bursting into laughter at your comment. “Is that a priority for you? The ability to handcuff someone to your headboard?”

“Honestly, yeah. Otherwise what good is it?”

He bit back a smile, and then turned to look at the other beds around you. “Well on that basis, we can cut out most of the beds here. Ones like these are the best, nothing that’s wood.”

“Know from personal experience, do you?” Harry blushed and you poked his side. “Didn’t know you were so kinky, Styles.”

“Right back at you,” he replied. “So what other tests are involved in the purchase of a bed?”

“Well,” you began, pushing yourself higher on the bed. “Mine creaks a ton, so I need to know how much this one does.”

He glanced between you and the bed, and then the number of people around. “What’s your plan? Jump on the bed or something?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. Got a better idea?”

“You could like, try and push it forward and back?”

“Go for it.”

Harry stood up and walked to the head of the bed, grabbing onto the frame and pulled it forward and back—or tried to. The headboard didn’t budge and you watched with a quirked smile. “It’s not moving,” he mumbled. “Maybe that’s good? Means it’s strong and all that?”

For being two 26-year-olds, you realized, the two of you still didn’t know much about furniture. “Probably. But I still think we should do the jump test.”

“I am not jumping on that bed with you.”

“Harry…”

“No, Y/N, we’re in the middle of a store!”

You huffed out a breath. “Fine.” Then, you turned over and got up on your hands and knees and pushed all of your weight into the mattress and moved backward and forth, trying to see if it would creak or sway as you moved. You could feel Harry’s eyes on your form but you paid him no mind, your focus on the task at hand.

Harry, meanwhile, swallowed thickly as he watched you, the sway of your body sending thoughts he really shouldn’t have been having through his head. Did you realize what you were doing? The position you were in and what it made him think of? Probably not.

“I think this one’s actually pretty good,” you informed him, turning over and lying down on the mattress. “Should I get the mattress too? I’ve had mine for like five years. What’s the lifespan on a mattress?”

“Dunno,” Harry answered, leaning his arm against the wrought iron headboard. “Can you afford both?”

You groaned and sat up. “Why on earth did you have to bring up money? I was having so much fun until you got all responsible on me.”

“Hey, someone’s got to have some sense in our apartment.”

“And that someone is you?”

“You’re the one who wanted to jump on beds in the middle of IKEA on a Saturday, not me.”

You huffed out a sigh and pushed yourself off the bed, coming to standing. “Come on, let’s go look at desks.”

“So you’re getting this one?”

You nodded. “It’s the best one for the handcuffs, isn’t it?” He blushed and you walked ahead of him, letting him push the cart after you.

You spent the rest of Saturday deconstructing your old bed frame and building your new one with Harry’s help. It was definitely a two person job—screwing together the support pieces to the headboard and placing the slats properly, lifting your mattress onto your new bed. By the end of the whole process you were tired, hungry, and a bit cranky, but you had a new bed that you adored. Harry ordered you both pizza, and you opened a bottle of red wine once you’d finished your food, pouring you both a glass.

Harry was sitting on the couch, his sweatshirt long gone, in just his jeans and a black t-shirt stretched across his muscular upper body. In the year he’d lived with you, he’d gained a significant amount of muscle mass, transforming from the more ropey guy who moved in, into this man who looked like a fucking Greek God after a day in the sun. You carried over the wine, handing him his glass and setting the bottle on the table for refills that would definitely occur.

You picked up the remote, anticipating a night of re-watching each of your favorite trashy teen dramas from the early 2000s (yours was What a Girl Wants or the Lizzie McGuire Movie, depending on your mood) when Harry spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” you answered, taking a sip of your wine and opening the Netflix app on your TV.

“It might be a bit too personal, so if you don’t want to answer, just don’t—“

“Harry, just spit it out,” you said, cutting him off.

“What’s the difference in sex between guys and girls?” His question was rushed, but you made out every word and it made you choke on your wine a bit.

You set down your wine glass and turned to fully face him. “Like…generally?”

The blush that crept across his cheeks was endearing, obviously regretting the question once it was out of his mouth. “I don’t know. Fuck, forget I asked—“

“It’s fine,” you told him. You considered his question, mulling over the experiences you’d had with both sexes and comparing the two. To be honest, you didn’t spend much time comparing them because they were different in so many ways. “The most glaring thing,” you began, “is that sex with women can just keep on going until one of you like…can’t anymore. There’s no waiting or anything like there is with guys. So it means that it’s really intense for like a long period of time.”

He was listening intently, fingers tight around his wine glass as you spoke. To be frank, you couldn’t really believe you were having this conversation with Harry of all people. “I guess it’s also different because you don’t have penetration with girls—at least, not in the same way. I’ve never used a strap-on with anyone, just like oral and hands, so it means those things are more intense, in my opinion. Also, girls are really fucking good at oral—not that guys aren’t—but it’s just so good.”

“What makes them better?”

“Not better,” you said, “just different. Softer, in my opinion—like their fingers and hands are softer. And they also can figure out what you need faster, or maybe that’s just the people I’ve been with. There’s definitely something to be said for being a woman and knowing what other women need.”

If it wasn’t for the wine in his hand, Harry might not have had the courage to have this conversation. It had been sitting in the back of his mind for ages, before he even found out you were bi, but now that he knew you were you were one of the few people he could talk to about something like this. You were also one of the few people he trusted to have this conversation with and it to not become too awkward. He felt more comfortable around you than he did with most other people, that was for sure. He considered what you had said, mulling the words over in his head. Softer. He understood that—he loved the softness of women when they touched him, their longer fingernails and the kitten licks they spread over his body.

“Why do you ask?” You tucked your legs up, hooking your arm around your knees as you took another sip of your wine.

He chewed on his lip for a minute, rubbing his finger across the exterior of his glass. “I was just curious, I guess. I didn’t know you were bi until you brought Emily back, so I just started thinking about it a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you told him. “I guess I didn’t even realize you didn’t know, to be honest. I don’t really feel the need to constantly be coming out to people, if that makes sense. Especially if I trust that they won’t care either way.”

“It does.” He shifted forward, taking another sip of his wine and mirroring your position. “And I don’t care either way, just so you know.”

You gave him a smile. “I appreciate that.” You fiddled with the hem of your pajama shorts, the old ratty blue ones from Target you’d had since college, before asking the question floating around in your head. “Now that you’ve asked me a sexual question, it’s my turn.” His eyebrows jumped, but he nodded his okay. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to try?”

“Are you asking me about my kinks?” He asked, a playful grin on his face, and your eyes fluttered down in embarrassment. “To be honest, I haven’t really tried all that much—haven’t been in that many relationships where I feel comfortable trying stuff out, you know?”

“You’ve obviously tried handcuffs,” you quipped, and he blushed.

“I haven’t, actually. Just…thought about it, I guess.”

“Well,” you said, the wine emboldening you, “you’re always welcome to try it with my bed.”

He laughed, one of his full body ones that made you smile widely at him. “Are you saying I can just have sex in your bed without you there?”

You grimaced. “Actually on second thought, please don’t do that.”

“Only with you present, I promise.” The words were out of his mouth before he had even processed them, the unabashed flirtation so sexual and clear. It made your eyes widen and stop midway through the sip of wine you were about to take. He didn’t even know what to say after that—did he apologize? He couldn’t read your face, couldn’t see if you were okay with his words or made you uncomfortable.

But then you saved him, giving him a small and flirtatious smile, one he’d only seen you give others, never him. The one where your eyes had a fire to the edges, a slight curve to your pink lips, your tongue dart out to wet them. “H, are you trying to get me into bed with you?”

The nickname you had for him fell differently in this moment, the sexual context sending blood straight to his pants. “What if I was?”

The conversation had taken a rapid turn and it had your skin warming, your brain abuzz. What if he was? You had to admit, you’d always found Harry attractive, from that first moment you met him in a coffee shop after he responded to your Craigslist ad. You had always told yourself it was just normal attraction, the same attraction you had to that boy you’d known your entire life and knew was attractive but never actually considered anything more with. It was platonic. You lived with the guy, for Pete’s sake—you witnessed his messy room and how he struggled to cook fish properly and when he had vomited after a night out with his friends. You’d seen him at his worst and at his best, but so had he.

Living with Harry had brought you close in a way you didn’t expect—you didn’t necessarily share everything with him, but he knew you in a way few others did. He could read you well, know how your day was by the way you entered the apartment. You liked the same type of movies, you had routines, you shared about your families over pasta dinners and a bottle of wine when the power was out and you had nowhere else to be. More than anything, you felt safe with him, comfortable, valued. He had always gone out of his way to make sure you felt comfortable with living with him and you thought he was honestly the best roommate you had ever had. You were endlessly grateful he responded to the ad and you’d ended up living with him.

But sex with him? Would it change everything? Probably. Would it change it for the worst, though? You weren’t sure. “Would it change anything?” You asked hesitantly.

He paused, the tension between you thick in your small living room, the soft light from the lamp in the corner basking you both in a warm yellow glow. “Not unless we wanted it to.”

You swallowed thickly. “Then I wouldn’t say no,” you said, voice soft.

Harry’s eyes were boring a hole in yours, his breaths shallow and frequent, panting as you both stared at each other, trying to figure out if what you thought was going to happen would actually occur. “Are you sure?” He asked, leaning slightly towards you.

You lowered your legs so that your knees weren’t up to your chest, and pushed your body closer to his in answer. He reached out and hesitantly brought his hand up to your cheek, his palm warm against your skin, finding your gaze before leaning in to close the distance between you.

The second his lips brushed yours you wondered why you hadn’t done this earlier. With his hand cupping your cheek, he pulled you in closer, his free arm wrapping around your lower back and tugging you into his body. He tasted like pizza and red wine and you thought that you probably did too. Your hands reached up to grip the back of his neck, holding him closer to you and shifting towards him. It felt electric, kissing him, and you were falling into it faster than you could think, craving more and more from him, desperate for his touch and the way he prodded open your lips and touched your tongue with his own.

He was grabbing at your hips, squeezing your skin through your pajamas shorts and the oversized band t-shirt you wore, the pads of his fingers digging into you and his rings heavy against your clothes. Fuck it you decided, and pushed back on his shoulders a bit, unwinding your legs, and swinging them onto either side of his hips, settling firmly into his lap. He looked surprised at your movement, but not mad, especially whenever you adjusted and brushed over his hard-on.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips when you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him. Pushing up the hem of your shirt, his fingers danced across your back, sliding up your bare skin. You never wore a bra at home, something he’d long ago gotten used to, but to have you pressed to his front, your nipples peaking out, and feeling your bare back under his hand was a completely different experience.

You tugged on the ends of his hair and he groaned into your mouth, a smile spreading across your lips that were between his. With your teeth you tugged on his bottom lip, pulling it away from his mouth and watching as his eyes fell to your mouth, his chest rising and falling as you let go of his lip and sat an inch away from him. Then, he was surging forward again, holding your head in one of his hands and pulling your mouth back to his, chasing you.

Everything about the moment felt good—from the way his hands felt on you to the smell of his cologne and the shower gel you both used, the shared laundry detergent on his clothes. His lips on yours, the prod of his tongue against yours, the way the sounds that left him rang in your ears. Your chest was crushed against his, knees tight against his hips, pushing him back into the pillow behind his head so that you were both horizontal on the couch, your body hovering over his.

The two of you lingered in that position, letting the swivel of your hips over his pelvis draw moans from you both, soft and breathy sounds that filled your living room. Harry’s hands ran under your shirt and then back down to your hips to guide you, a path he repeated over and over again and you weren’t complaining. You loved the feeling of his hands on your body. You were resting fully on his chest, your nipples hard under your shirt as you ground yourself against him, your forearms resting on the pillow behind his head for leverage.

When his hips bucked up into yours, you couldn’t help but rasp his name, a “Harry,” falling from your lips with ease. You trailed your lips down his neck in response, pushing at the neck of his shirt to find the spot at the base of his neck where you sucked harshly. His fingers pressed tighter on your hips and you smiled against his skin. “Like that?” You asked, licking over the mark you’d made.

“Yeah,” he said, rolling your hips over his. You could feel how hard he was through your pajama shorts and his jeans and you were curious. Living with him you’d seen him in just his briefs and the occasional swimsuit when he was heading to the pool with friends, but you’d never seen him fully nude. However, you had a pretty good idea of his size and you couldn’t say you weren’t eager.

Slowly, you inched your hand down his chest, digging your nails into his skin through his shirt, loving the noises that spilled from his mouth at the feeling. When your hand reached his jeans, though, he pulled at your wrist, ripping you away. “What?”

“I wanna do you,” he said. “You were talking earlier about oral and now I’m curious where I fall on the scale.”

He was going to kill you, wasn’t he? “Okay,” you told him, pressing your palm into his torso. “Where do you want to be?”

“Bed,” he replied, nudging at your nose. “Let’s see how much that new bed creaks.”

You pushed up off of him, and he followed you to your bed with his hands on your hips, tugging you back into his chest mid-way through the way to kiss you again, pulling a gasp from your throat when he surprised you. When you pushed open your door, for the first time there was no point in closing it behind you because the only other person who could have seen what was happening was already in the room with you. Harry’s body mirrored yours as you stepped backwards towards your bed, following you as you fell onto the duvet that you had placed there only a matter of hours earlier.

You wanted his skin, to see him and feel him in this way, and so you pushed at the hem of his shirt, the word, “Off,” sticking in your throat when he pulled it up and off of his body, tossing it to the side without consequence. Bare skin stretched in front of you, covered in swirlings of black ink that you had seen before, but never like this. Never when it was yours to see, to touch, to feel. So you took full advantage, sliding your palms up his chest as he leaned back down.

“Your turn,” he mumbled, sucking on your nipple through your shirt, your back arching towards his mouth in a silent beg for more. Fingers pressed into the sliver of your stomach that was exposed, and you raised your arms as if to tell he could push it off, which he did, creeping the fabric up your body and leaving kisses in the wake of the hem. Once it was over your head, he licked over your bare nipple and your a wet mewl left your lips.

“H,” you rasped, tugging on the locks of his hair, the strands threading between your fingers.

His head bounced up, the forest green of his irises barely visible, his pupils blown out with desire. “What?”

You opened your legs wider, and Harry smiled devilishly at you, giving your cleavage on final pull with his lips before creeping down your body. You didn’t stop him when he went to tug off your shorts, nor did you stop him when he laid between your legs, or when he licked and sucked and pulled at your inner thighs, making your chest shudder with desperation.

Nor did you stop him when his tongue touched your clit, licking a straight line up from your slit to your bud. Instead, you gasped his name, a curse mixed in falling from your lips, and tugged his head closer to you. He’d collected saliva on his tongue without you realizing it and the wetness of it was running all over your hot skin, a distinct slurping noise filling the air that only made it hotter. You picked up your head and watched in rapture as he licked into you, his curls falling into his face as he moved between your legs.

He alternated between sucking on your clit and swiping at your slit, nudging his tongue into you just to drive you crazy. Which he succeeded in doing, based on how your hips picked up when he did it, chasing the pressure he left in his wake. He was turning you into a mess, a mess only for him, desire and your orgasm falling through you faster than usual. For some reason he had been concerned about how good he was, but now he was between your legs and you didn’t know how you had gone twenty-six years without him. How you had lived with him for a year and never felt him like this, seen him like this—his head tilting up and the sight of your juices on coating his lips and chin, his tongue darting out to taste them.

“So?” He asked, pressing into your plush thighs, his rings leaving an indentation in their wake. “Where do I fit on the scale?”

“You haven’t made me come,” you responded, voice rough, breath catching in your lungs as you tried to inhale properly.

A wicked smile flashed onto his face, and then he brushed his tongue in a circle around your clit, your fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m not done yet.” Then he was back between your legs, drawing mewls and moans from you like it was his job, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against the mattress, back arching as you tried to grind down on his face. You could feel your walls tightening around nothing and you needed something there, a little bit more.

“Your fingers,” you said, picking up your head to look at him. “I need your fingers.”

Harry glanced up at you, before he answered your plea with his touch, not his words. Not being a man for warning, the tips of his forefinger and middle finger brushed at your entrance just once before pushing inside of you, a deep and unrelenting moan flowing from you with ease. “Yeah? That feel good?”

You could tell he liked praise and so you tightened your hold on his hair and muttered a Yes, bringing his lips back to your center as he drove his fingers inside of you at a brutal pace. The sound of his fingers and your wetness echoed in your ears, but the louder sound was Harry’s grunts and moans and curses below you whenever he brought his head up for air. Somehow, he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you, which definitely gave him some bonus points in your book.

“Gonna come for me, Y/N?” His words were rough and deep, a lower octave to his voice you hadn’t heard before, and it made you desperate for him. Your hips pushed down against his hand, craving more inside of you, and that was when the cold metal of his rings brushed your entrance. The coldness against the warmth of your skin felt heavenly and you mewled at the touch, Harry chuckling lightly from where he laid.

You could feel your belly tightening, the tell tale sign of an orgasm quickly approaching, but you needed just barely more from him. You didn’t know what it was, but you needed more. So you asked, a “More, please,” leaving your mouth in a chant.

He was unfazed, doubling his pace inside of you and suckling on your clit repeatedly before letting his lips fall to your entrance, slipping around the taught skin with his tongue to add to the sensation. It had your back arching and you knew you were mere seconds away. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you called into the room, your grip on his hair lethal as he licked you into your orgasm.

It crashed into you and he fucked you through it with his fingers, sucking and pulling on your bud as you rode his fingers, back arched and a series of curses circling around you. “Beautiful,” you barely heard him mumble into your skin, the low rumble of his voice sending vibrations through you.

Once you’d regained your breath he was crawling up the length of your body, kisses littered across your bare skin. “Fuck,” you said, a chuckle leaving you as you were reacquainted with the sight of his face hovering above you.

“So?” He asked, hands coming to rest on either side of your head. “What’s my rating?”

You tugged at his neck and dropped his body to yours, his lips meeting yours in a cruel fire. You rolled your hips up and wrapped your legs around his waist, shoving him to the side that he rotated, falling to his back and you above him. “You know exactly how good you are,” you told him, licking and pulling at his neck. “You arrogant asshole.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest, his hands coming to sit on your waist as you brushed back and forth on his jeans. “I distinctly remember you asking me not to stop, so I’m going to go with a high rating? Perhaps the best of all the men who have come before me?”

You knew his ego was big enough that you didn’t need to inflate it, but for some reason you did anyways. “You’d be right about that,” you told him, shoving his legs apart so you could sit between them and popping the button on his jeans. “Now, can I fuck you?”

Harry laughed one of his full body laughs, his head raising off the bed at your words. “Yeah, go ahead, sweetheart,” he said once he’d calmed, a smile stretched across his face at the sight of you between his knees.

With a roll of your eyes, you tugged on the denim, pulling it down his legs. “Do you ever wear underwear?” You asked him, pushing the material off the bed and gazing at his erect pink cock resting on his belly.

“Why?”

“Just trying to figure out how you manage to walk around with that thing and no underwear.”

“Oi!” He said, a frown fixing onto his lips at your laughter. “It’s not a thing, it’s my dick and it’s about to be fucking you, so no mean words, hmm?”

When your fingers wrapped around him all of his laughter and complaints were gone with a string of curse words, his hips bucking up at your touch. You pumped him a few times, nosing at his thigh just to rile him up a bit more. He was warm and heavy in your grip. For the most part, you found dicks the same as all body parts, but Harry’s was beautiful in a way few were. It made you even wetter than he had left you and gathered saliva on your tongue, and when you pushed on the tip delicately with your thumbpad and heard him groan, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

You pushed up off of the bed and he whined at your absence, but you ignored him. You had a mission. Rifling through your bedside table, you finally landed on the item you were searching for—the handcuffs you’d purchased a few months ago and had been waiting to try out.

Harry’s eyes widened at the clink of the metal and watched as you swung them on your finger, a coy smile on your face. “Remember these?” You asked, moving to the headboard where you threaded through the wrought iron. “Didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”

“No,” he said, gulping and raising his wrists to you, pliant as ever.

“Good,” you answered, a kiss to each of his wrists before securing them in the handcuffs, tugging on the chain to make sure it would hold. “Now then.” You re-positioned yourself over his hips, one knee on either side, and trailed your fingers down his chest. “You look so pretty laid out for me like this.”

Harry’s mind was spinning as he gazed up at you. He’d never felt quite like this—so powerless, but so desperate for someone. You’d turned him to mush with just a few touches and he wanted you in a way he had needed few. The handcuffs weren’t what did it, either, it was the way you touched him, the quirk of your smile and your laughter, how you had bucked into his face, how your fingers touched his skin. He didn’t realize until he was underneath you how long he had been waiting to be there at your mercy, willing to take any shred you’d give him.

“You okay?” You asked, voice soft as you touched his cheek.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I’m okay.”

You leaned down and kissed his chest, before snatching the condom you’d laid out on the duvet. Rolling it down his length he hissed at the touch, but you tried to be gentle, knowing that the handcuffs were probably a lot. Then, you rose up onto your knees, positioning yourself over him, and raised his cock, brushing the tip against your entrance. Your eyes found his as you lowered onto him, a groan leaving both of your chests as you took him.

“Holy shit,” he said as your hips met him, his length fully inside of you. “Shit, Y/N.”

You rocked back and forth on him, your fingernails digging into his chest at the feeling of him fitting so snugly inside of you. “Feels so good,” you mumbled, your words long gone from making sense. It always happened—you lost the ability to think about what you were saying, words becoming a string of consciousness. “So deep, H.”

“Yeah?” You could hear the handcuffs rattling against your headboard as you moved over him, but the bed wasn’t creaking yet, just shifting back and forth. His hips raised up to yours, pushing him deeper inside of you somehow and it made you both moan, deep and unrestrained.

Not having to censor your sounds was a completely different experience and you loved it. Your eyes flickered up to where his wrists were clasped in the handcuffs, his nails digging into his palms, the cross tattoo on his thumb shining in the light of your bedroom. “How do they feel?” You asked, bouncing up and down on him.

He couldn’t answer at first, mind swimming from the tight metal on his wrists and the way you held him inside of you so snugly. His whole body was warm, from his sweat and your touch and just the overwhelming desire rolling through him. “Like them,” he finally got out, because he did. Something about the restraints made it more intense, the fact that he couldn’t touch you, the fact that you were just fucking him like you wanted to. It was making his orgasm rush towards him, a twitching throughout his body he was barely staving off.

“They’re hot,” you said, using your knees you speed up your tempo, needing him faster inside of you. “Like seeing you all tied up.”

Usually you didn’t feel this comfortable this quickly with someone you were hooking up with, but with Harry you knew he would never judge him. You trusted him fully and here, in this room, was no different. “I’m close,” he rasped when you swiveled your hips, brushing him against your g-spot and whining out his name.

“Yeah?” Your fingernails crept down his torso leaving long red marks in their wake. “Wanna see you come, H,” you mumbled, splaying your palms out on his abdomen, which was taut from the pleasure he was trying to hold off.

“Fuck,” he yelled when you clenched down on him, his hips bouncing up immediately, slamming against yours. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” then he was coming, the combination of the cold metal on his wrists leaving him at your mercy and the tightness you held around him combining to send him toppling over the edge.

You bent over, your torso resting on his and fucked yourself on him as best you could, not wanting to overwhelm him but also chasing your own release. The sound of your name on his tongue, a raw and unhinged moan ripping through him from his own sensitivity. ��Close,” you said, kissing across his collarbone and blowing softly on the mark you’d left earlier.

The sight of his eyes screwed shut and the panting of his breath, the way his chest heaved as he tried to calm down, mixed with him begging for you to find your release left you squirming above him, body rattling with your orgasm. You clenched down on him as you came and he grunted at the feeling, but you couldn’t stop it, a call of his name leaving your mouth.

It left you worn-out and desperate for cuddles, so you reached up, unfastening the handcuffs and releasing his wrists. His hands found your skin immediately, hooking them around your back and pulling you flush. You lifted up off of him so that he could pull the condom off and you whimpered at the loss. “Tired,” you mumbled into his chest.

“S’okay,” he replied, kissing the top of your forehead. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shutting your eyes against his skin. “How was that?”

He let out a breath, taut and tight in the room. “Fucking insane,” he answered, and you giggled next to him as he pinched your ass lightly. “You’ve been hiding that from me for all this time, huh?”

“Guess so.”

He chuckled, nudging your forehead with his chin. “Think you might want to do that again sometime?”

You picked up your head, opening your eyes to look at him. “Sure I didn’t scare you off with the handcuffs?”

“Fuck no,” he replied in a rush. “Blew my mind.”

“Then yeah,” you told him. “As long as it’s my turn next.”

One of his eyebrows quirked up, and then a grin spread across his face. “Your turn, eh?”

His red-tinged wrists wrapped around you and smothered you in kisses, your hands batting at his body in a fit of laughter, but he didn’t quit. Instead, he pulled you close, a final press of his lips to your cheek, and you settled in against his body, knowing he’d be there in the morning.

He was your roommate, after all—where else did he have to be?

thank you for reading!!!! please go check out the other writers in the bificathon here, reblog this fic, and come chat with me in my inbox about this fic if you liked it. xoxo love you all!

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #harry styles bi fic #bi reader #bi fic #bisexual fic #harry styles bisexual reader #harry styles roommate #harry styles x roommate #roommate!harry styles

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starkerforlife6969 · 4 years

Text

Starker - Gone

tw angst, mentions of drinking- but a happy ending.

It’s done.

It’s finished.

Tony realises it a little suddenly. Feels cold and hollow all over. Riddled.

Dusk has just gone, and the fresh darkness seeps in through the windows. The penthouse is empty. It’s just him and his perfect furniture and his state of the art, pioneering technology.

Peter’s gone.

Of course, he’s been gone for months now. Shuffled out, head held irritatingly high, face drawn tight, stuff in boxes, and stayed with his aunt.

Whatever, Tony thinks bitterly, the kid’s 300 million dollars better off, he’ll buy a nice beach house somewhere and Tony will never see him again.

Mr. Wobbles, the fucking awful cat, is gone too. He was Peter’s Tony had realised, even as he’d argued for it over the glass table.

“Yours!” Peter had screeched, making the lawyers on both sides wince. Making Tony smirk victoriously, finally, at having gotten a reaction. “I adopted him, Tony. Me. My name is on all the papers, you- you hate him! You never feed him, or play with him, or give him treats, Mr Wobbles is mine!”

“Tony,” Peggy Carter, his (very expensive) lawyer, had touched his arm and said quietly, “it’s a cat. Do you really want the responsibility?”

Tony had slunk back into the leather seat. Shrugged and looked away like he didn’t care if the cat lived or died.

He does care, is the thing.

He looks over to the kitchen, down by the side of the fridge, where the ceramic blue food bowl used to lie.

It’s bare now.

He remembers, as he loosens his tie, takes off his armour, how Peter had looked the first time with the kitten in his arms. Brown eyes glistening and lips so pink and stained with the strawberries from breakfast.

“Tony! Please, I promise, I’ll take care of him-”

“Sweetheart,” Tony had chuckled, dragging Peter in for a kiss, “it’s your home too. Have the little monster. You don’t need permission. It’s yours.” Peter had beamed, lifted Mr Wobbles up close to Tony’s face (the creature had tried to blind him) and said “He’s ours.”

Even now, the thought makes him smile. Crooked. Sad.

Hollow, again.

That’s how the penthouse feels.

Pepper’s done an excellent job. He hadn’t seen the pieces of Peter disappear one by one, he just left for one of the divorce hearings one morning, came back one afternoon, and it was as if Peter had never been there.

Gone are the pairs of beaten converse, even though Tony had bought him suede shoes, gone are the hoodies next to blazers on the coat hook. Gone are the fruits and vegetables for those disgusting smoothies he’d always insist Tony drink. Gone is the sugary cereal because the boy’s a walking paradox and gone is-

Peter.

Tony swallows hard. There’s a lump in his throat. The first tickle of grief in this whole, drawn out process.

Peter’s gone.

Mr Wobbles is gone.

***

He won’t turn on the lights. Won’t go to the bedroom.

What he does do, because Peter’s not here to give him those huge bambi eyes, is pour himself a glass of scotch.

Then another. Then some bourbon. Bitter. All the good stuff he hasn’t felt the need to touch in two years.

Two years with Peter.

On their second anniversary, he remembers Peter’s face- flushed pink, stammering, eyes darting around to take in every inch of the party. Streamers and friends and cake and a table almost buckling under the weight of the presents.

“Tony,” he’d hiccuped, curling into Tony’s chest, shy and excited, “it’s too much.”

Tony had kissed the top of his curls. Felt pride bursting over the seams. Happy to make Peter happy. He’d felt good. “No such thing, baby,” he’d promised.

He’d lied.

Instead, Tony drinks, toes off his shoes, and reaches for the box that his lawyer gave him.

Peggy’s a great lawyer. Expensive, but the one Pepper insisted on.

“I don’t need a lawyer-”

“Peter could claim 50% of SI, Tony. 50%, do you hear me?”

Peter could have, of course. But he didn’t. Tony knew he wouldn’t. Peter’s not the vindictive type. Even in the midst of heartbreak.

He reaches for the box. It’s full of transcripts of the divorce proceedings, there are memory sticks of the recordings.

It all had to be recorded, for some reason. The most high profile divorce of the century.

Tony winces as he thinks of the tabloids. Half of them smear Peter as a gold-digger, wrong wrong wrong, the other half say Tony was cheating, abusive, desperate to go back to his philandering playboy days. Those are wrong too.

But he guesses, Husband refuses to change doesn’t make that good of a headline.

His laptop glows with harsh brightness as he slides in the memory stick. He sits crossed-legged on the ground, muscles protesting, and he forgoes the glass and drinks from the bottle.

It’s not classy. His mom wouldn’t want-

“10% is too high.” Peggy says efficiently on the video, scanning through the contracts. Tony sits beside her, slouched, comfortable, sunglasses on. Pale blue suit. He looks bored. Like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The real Tony knows better. Knows that those sunglasses were hiding blood shot eyes, eyes focused on-

Peter. Small. Tired. Straight-back, hands folded, in a crisp white shirt.

“We’re not asking for 10% of total assets,” Coulson says softly. “But Mr Parker has made significant contributions to the biochemistry division of SI and as such he is entitled to 3% of the division and a 2% shareholder stake in the company. His marriage to Tony justifies the other 5%.” Coulson looks up from the paper and at Peggy. His voice is gentle: “We’re within our right to go to 50%. We’re asking for 10%. 3% biochemistry, 7% of SI.”

Peggy meets Coulon’s eyes. She sighs. “7% total. 3% Biochemistry, 4% of SI.”

Coulson turns to look at Peter, who murmurs something. Coulson looks like he wants to argue further, but he doesn’t.

“Agreed.” He says.

Both lawyers write. Then they move on to the next thing.

Tony thinks about Coulson. Looks at him on the video. When Pepper had said she’d secured Peggy Carter, he’d nodded, then blinked.

“What about Phil?” He’d asked.

Pepper had kept her face carefully neutral. “He’s Peter’s lawyer.”

“Oh.” Tony had said.

He’d thought Phil was his friend. They’d known each other for years, after all, and then he chastises himself. Phil and Peter had become fast friends. Manning the barbecue out on the deck, laughing, fangirling over Captain America.

“Tony,” Phil had said, coming up to him at the end of it all. “Are you- are we, okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony had nodded. He didn’t have it in him to have another enemy. “I get it. He asked you first.”

“No, Tony.” Phil frowned, shaking his head. “He needed me more.”

What did that mean?

Tony thinks now, swirling the remnants of the bottle, watching the lawyers go back and forth and him and Peter not saying a word.

Why did Peter need Coulson? The divorce was Peter’s idea. Kid should’ve been happy.

The Peter on the screen turns to look out of the window. It’s raining. He’s framed with silver light.

He doesn’t look happy.

Tony tries to think harder. Mind whirring. Tries to think of things he’s long ignored.

Of the fighting.

Of Peter’s pinched face.

He thinks, with more shame, about the times he raised his voice. How he yelled. When Peter would try to pull him out of calculations, try to coax him into eating, try to talk him down from the edge of self-destruction. Tony remembers lashing out.

“You want me to give up being Iron Man? You’re out of your mind, Peter. You’re trying to change me.”

“I’m trying to save you-”

“It’s who I am!” Tony had roared, so loudly that Peter had jerked backwards: afraid. “You’re trying to get me to abandon who I am. Well, I won’t change that way. That’s me, baby, you either take it or leave it.”

He’d been so angry. So scared. At the thought of the red and gold being put to rest.

He’s Iron Man.

“Tony.” Peter had sniffled. “I love you so much. I...I don’t want you to get hurt, but it’s more than that. You’re older now. Sam is taking over from Steve, and...and I don’t think anyone would mind, people know how much you’ve done for us all, if you wanted to retire. There are other people to be heroes now, you can-”

“Peter.” Tony had whispered, hugging him. “I promise. I won’t get hurt.”

He’d been right. But it had been a band aid on a leaking roof.

He didn’t get hurt. He saved the day. Again and again and again and again.

And each time he was gone, Peter would be pelted with rain until he gave all together.

“I want a divorce.”

Cool glass table. Thick fountain pens. Lawyers. Mr Wobbles.

Divorce of the Century - Tony and Peter call it quits. Insider reveals all.

Iron Man = Iron Heart?

Caught in the Act : A Gold Digger’s Story.

Tony Stark: Playboy Extraordinaire.

***

The sun trickles in the next morning.

Tony has a hangover.

His laptop is still playing the footage.

He opens his eyes to Peter’s face, lit with gold, he hears Peggy agree to 300 million.

Peter should smile.

He just looks sad.

Tony reaches for his phone.

It rings 8 times. Tony can picture the man on the other end. Watching it ring. Watching his name. Debating.

He answers.

“Tony.”

“He never stopped loving me.”

“I know.” Steve says quietly, huffing air into the phone, “We all know.”

Tony’s pride has saved him. It also makes him blind.

Steve comes over. Awkward, a little hesitant.

Steve is another thing Peter won in the divorce. If anyone won. If anything can be won.

Peter got Mr Wobbles. Got Steve. Got Bucky, by extension. Got Sam.

Tony got Nat and Clint.

Bruce and Thor refused to pick sides.

But Steve’s here and Tony thinks brokenly maybe all isn’t lost

“He wants me to give up being Iron Man.” Tony croaks, as Steve casts his righteous blue gaze over the penthouse. Over the box of transcripts. Over the empty bottles. Over Tony. Over the video of Peter and Coulson and the end of love.

Steve nods. “You don’t want to give up Iron Man?”

Tony nods his head. Shakes it. Shrugs. Doesn’t know.

Steve presses his lips together. “Tony, Peter can’t breathe properly when you’re Iron Man. He can’t focus. Can’t function. He’s so scared for you. If you can’t function when you’re not Iron Man, this separation is for the best.”

It’s so cruel. Too honest and brutal to hear.

“But we love each other.” Tony insists.

Steve looks sad. “Sometimes that isn’t enough.”

Tony doesn’t go to shareholder meetings.

But it’s three days later. He can’t sleep in their bed. Keeps thinking he hears Peter’s laugh or Mr Wobbles’ plaintive meow.

So when he sees Peter on the list. When he realises Peter might come. Could come. Might be there, within touching distance-

He puts on his best three piece suit. A dark tie. Gets his hair done.

He walks in, and fake-smiles at a few, blustering old men happy to see him.

In the long, oak boardroom, he sees Peter.

He looks young. Really young for the room. 25. In a pinstripe suit that looks- tailored. Good. Good for him.

And on his hand is-is-

It’s his wedding ring.

As soon as Peter looks up, he meets Tony’s eyes, and then honey-brown dart down to his finger, and they jerk under the table.

Tony can’t move.

Peter’s wearing it. Still wearing it. Why- what does-

His own is back in the penthouse. Set next to the photograph of his mother. Another sign of failure.

But maybe- maybe not yet. Maybe it isn’t over till the opera lady sings.

He spends the whole meeting watching Peter, and he isn’t subtle about it either. The other shareholders clear their throats awkwardly.

Peter lets him look. Open and graceful. He lets Tony drink his fill.

It’s never been difficult to look at Peter, after all. He’s stupidly beautiful. Big eyes, long lashes, and that jaw-

Pepper kicks him under the table. Tony barely feels it.

He keeps looking. Keeps drinking. Peter’s skin, soft, freckled, the bow of his lips, how he smiles, so wide he might burst.

He waits till the end of the meeting. Everyone files out very quickly- bar Pepper who lingers, before sighing.

Then it’s just him and Peter.

He watches Peter steel himself. Take a breath. Fix the armour in place that Tony found so frustrating during the divorce. The armour that hides Peter away. Behind an expressionless face and a blank, polite smile.

Gone, is the open boy.

Peter’s preparing himself for battle and-

Peter needed me more. Coulson had said.

Tony remembers asking Peter to join the Biochemistry division. He remembers asking Peter to move in. He remembers the late nights of equations. The way the tower would pull his iron man suit off him and Peter would be there, curled up, waiting.

He thinks. He thinks about Peter’s Oscorp Industries offer to head their Bio-tech division- rejected. For Tony.

He thinks of Peter’s dream to live in the sprawling country, away from the city.

He thinks of how Peter loves late night walks, hand in hand, staring at the twinkling lights of buildings.

He thinks of how Peter told him he was scared that Tony would get hurt.

There’s something about change. All the things Peter’s given him. Given and given and given until there was nothing left to give.

Tony hasn’t changed. He’s softer, more loving, but that’s because- of Peter.

All Peter’s ever asked of him, ever truly asked of him, was to retire.

Tony licks his lips- his tongue’s so dry- and he whispers: “It’s who I am, Pete. I’m sorry.”

Peter closes his eyes for a long, long moment.

Then he opens them, and smiles sadly. “I know, Tony.” He whispers, fragile, “I know. If there were any other way- you’re the smartest man in the world. You’d have figured it out. I think this…” he gestures between them helplessly. “I think maybe this is the only way. I’m sorry too.”

Then he twists the ring off his finger and Tony stops him.

“Keep it,” he begs, “please.”

Peter nods, tears slipping down his cheeks, and he hurries away.

Tony stands there, chest clenching- in more agony than he’s ever been. His jaws ache. He wants to scream. To disappear.

He goes home.

He’s aggressively stripping wires and thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

He’s picturing life in five years.

Picturing waking up with even more aches and pains than he has now. Of stepping down, of giving the suit to a plucky MIT graduate who Tony can mentor.

He imagines getting in his car, driving to the outskirts of New York, the rich, sprawling greenery.

Of finding Peter’s home. Gorgeous. Stately. Framed with foxgloves.

He imagines walking up the steps, knocking on the door and there’s Peter.

Even more handsome. Relaxed. Happy. He’ll smile, Tony will get down on his knees, beg for him back and Peter-

Peter will look heart-broken.

“Tony,” he’ll say, “I didn’t spend five years waiting for you. Hoping you’d come to your senses. I didn’t put my life on pause for you. And you should never have expected me to. I moved on.”

And then someone else will say, “Petey, who’s at the door?”

And he’ll come out. Peter’s husband. He’ll be handsome and young and everything Peter deserves.

Tony has to set down his tools because his hands are trembling with anger over Peter’s non-existent future husband.

Is that what he’s expecting? Is he expecting Peter to wait? To wait until Tony’s done with being Iron Man? To put his life on hold indefinitely until Tony-

It makes him sick.

He won’t do that. Not to Peter, not ever.

Online, a tabloid article: Iron Man = Iron Heart catches his eye.

They’re trying to say he has a heart of stone, but what he thinks is-

Iron Heart is a good superhero name.

Riri is wickedly clever.

She has wide eyes when he arrives at her dorm. She recognises him, clearly. But she quickly starts talking over him, shows him the prototype suit she’s designed.

He’s already seen it in videos.

“This what you wanna do?” He says, eyes catching a photo of her and a girl kissing on the wall. “You wanna be a superhero?”

“More than anything.” She says, getting to her feet, 21 years old and ready to take on the world.

“I used to want it more than anything too.” Tony nods, and he feels warm. “I want something else more now.”

She cocks her head. Trying to gauge him.

He tries to go for casual. “My hus- ex-husba- my Peter- he’s great with bio-tech. Do you- he could help- upgrade- I-”

“Mr Stark,” Riri says, pulling up her socks, folding herself onto her desk chair. “What’s the point in saving the world if you never get to live in it? Life is finite.”

“You’re a good kid.” He manages. “We might make a hero of you yet.”

She grins.

He thinks she’ll be a forced to be reckoned with.

It’s not a beach house. Or a stately home in the expensive part of New York, it’s a townhouse in Brooklyn.

Beautiful, large, homey. Tony rings on the doorbell, fiddles with his collar, wonders if he should have brought flowers-

The door opens. Tony imagines it’ll be May, or maybe a Butler, or maybe a boyfriend-

It’s Peter. He’s in pyjamas. Old ones. Tony recognises them. Mr Wobbles is curled around his feet. He shivers in the cold air.

Tony opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say. Peter looks up at him, half hidden behind the door, the one eye Tony can see is wide and amazed. Like he maybe didn’t think Tony would come back.

“I love you, Peter Stark.” He says, remembering how Peter’s fingers had shaken when they’d signed the final papers. “And I’d do anything for you. I found a- girl. She’s great, you’ll meet her, Iron Heart, I thought, just toying around, she’ll need help. A mentor, maybe. Dead parents, always seems to be the case. But I thought maybe you and me- we could, help- guide her, I don’t-”

Peter edges out a little more. Mr Wobbles shuffles back into the warmth.

“I thought-” Peter bites his lip. “I thought Iron Man was a part of you?”

“You’re a part of me, Peter.” Tony insists. He laughs. “I’m old. Stupid. Even Cap’n Ice realised what I’ve been trying to ignore...the world doesn’t need me anymore.”

Peter reaches out, takes Tony’s hand. “I need you.” He confesses quietly, smiling.

“And you are my world.” Tony realises aloud, tingling with glee.

***

Iron Man Retires.

Stark and Parker ReUnited.

Iron Heart Makes Debut

Three Times the Starks made us Swoon

Tony Stark to celebrate 10th Wedding Anniversary.

***

He wakes up years later.

He trips over Peter’s shoes. Mr Wobbles pounces on his vulnerable toes as he walks past the bed.

He walks past one of the guest bedrooms: can hear Riri snoring.

He walks down into the lab. It glows with blue light, and there, hunched over the Iron Heart suit is Peter. He’s methodically working out all the damage it took on Riri’s latest stint. The fright she’d given them both- falling into that lake-

He looks like Tony, Tony realises. Of course his husband does, the narcissist that he is.

“Hey Pete,” Tony murmurs, rubbing his eyes, coming closer and kissing Peter on the head. “It’s late.”

“Is it?” Peter hums around a yawn, “I was just finishing up…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony chuckles, “I’ve heard that one before. Used it a few times."

Peter grins at that; tired, happy. “I guess maybe you need to tire me out,” he says wickedly, spinning in the chair, legs spreading further apart.

“Mm,” Tony murmurs, leaning down, kissing him. “Extra large pizza?”

“Cheese in the crust.” Peter nods, and they kiss again. And again.

And again.

#starker #peter x tony #angst #happy ending #fluff #divorce #make up break up #break up make up #age difference #marriage au #iron heart #tony stark #soft tony stark #precious peter parker

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 8125 ⚬ warnings: none! ⚬ genres: secret relationship, some slice of life uni moments, FLUFF, very light angst, spice, roommates!wonhui.

✧✎ synopsis: you’re friends with junhui - but also, not really. it’s friends and a little bit more than that. it’s difficult keeping your relationship a secret, especially when you’ve never loved someone the way you love him.

✧✎ a/n: NOBODY MOVE! I WROTE A JUN BDAY FIC ;_; this is really just me projecting all my years of love onto a word doc. enjoy!!

It was midnight, and the apartment was dark, unmoving. No one had bothered to clean the blue cereal bowl left in the sink and there remained bread crumbs on the countertop from lunch. As you flicked through the strange glimpses of late-night television, yawning in an outrageous width, there was a hunger pang, accompanied by an immediate craving for some sort of sweet candy.

So, you did what seemed best: fit into your sneakers and a windbreaker and push open the door to Jun’s bedroom while he was curled up on his side watching his drama. Wonwoo would usually be occupying the adjacent bed, though he had stayed over at Joshua’s dorm to study for his next history summative. Yet he’d left his beat-up, decaying textbook on his pillow.

“Put on your slippers or something, we’re going to the convenience store.”

Jun didn’t say anything, rather he continued holding out his phone, the bedsheets pulled taunt to his nose. Looking at Jun’s desk that sat next to the door, you picked up the rubber band ball he’d been adding to since his twelfth-grade year and threw it at his shoulder.

“Ow!” He squeaked dramatically. His head then poked over his shoulder as he attempted to see where the ball rolled off to.

“Put on your slippers,” you reiterated, “I want strawberry tangs.”

Without much effort, Jun quickly gave up looking for the elastic ball and returned to watching his drama, establishing his comfort while somehow still persisting to ignore you. He was very much so a homebody, and if it weren’t for you guiding him out the apartment like a grandchild taking their elderly for an afternoon walk, then he might’ve never left his bedroom apart from his class schedule. Yet, you knew exactly how to persuade him, weaken his heart that was already soft and golden.

An immediate whine rumbled in his throat when you jumped on the bed, pulling at him until he finally rolled onto his back, at last pressing pause on his phone. You tossed a thigh over each side of his silhouette and gripped the boy’s wide shoulders, gazing unflinchingly past his black fringe and into those big, glistening eyes.

“Come with me to the store,” you weren’t sure if you were offering or demanding, “please?”

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

“Walking around alone at night? Hello? Do you have no concern for me?” Came your joking counter.

He tossed his head back, the black fringe bouncing from his lashes. His capitulating yelp of, “fine, fine, I’ll come” was satisfactory enough for you to remove yourself from the boy’s tiny waist, where you stepped on the floor and nearly sprained your ankle due to that dumb, elastic ball. At least you found it. While you returned the toy to his desk, Jun quickly threw a worn jean jacket over his black long sleeve and didn’t bother bending down to fix his sneakers, his heels jutting out the back.

At the convenience store, the only shoppers were you, Junhui, and this lady wearing a huge pair of sunglasses, though you figured she was far from the strangest of the midnight stragglers.

It was rather quiet, even with the fluorescent lights buzzing and the battery-powered fan keeping the cashier cool at the register. You grabbed the first package of strawberry tangs while Jun sorted through the other flavours very meticulously.

“What about blue raspberry?” He said. “You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know, I just really have a craving for strawberry.”

Jun detached a bright green package from the rack. “Sour apple? What about that?”

“Not tasty at all. Pass.”

He grabbed another package and quirked his eyebrow. “Sweet cherry? Come on. That sounds good.”

You lightly hit his arm with the strawberry candy, your laughter echoing over the shelves, “I just want strawberry! If you think the sweet cherry sounds good then you buy it!”

But Jun just shook the black fringe from his playful gaze, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tangy zangys are the bottom tier of gummy candy. No way.”

“So shut up then.” The words were harsh, yet your smile was no more menacing than a butterfly.

Since it would be impossible for Jun to leave the store without stocking his snack collection, you shopped for longer than expected, filling a basket with spicy chips and hard candies and a few chocolate bars. Heading home down the nighttime street, beneath the moonlight, the infinite expanse of a blackness that felt like a cocoon, you had already ripped open your strawberry tangs while Jun tore the corner off a tiny pouch of bubblegum poprocks.

They crackled loudly on his tongue, in which he made sure to hover in close proximity to your ear, ensuring you could detect every small fizzle. Each time it warranted you to shove him away, muttering a cheap laugh about how it wasn’t required that he lean in so generously, though you couldn’t evade that one nervous thought ticking at the back of your head: you wanted to kiss him, wrap your palm around Jun’s neck and taste the electric bubblegum from his heart-shaped mouth.

“Aren’t you glad you came with me?” You asked, suckling the sugar off a red candy strip.

Jun swallowed his poprocks. “I guess you can word it like that.”

Standing at the living room fish tank, you opened the tab to the flake box and shook the food into the water, your pink guppy who you had so fittingly named, Princess Pebble, swimming toward the surface in order to nip at the flakes. Wonwoo observed you from his seat at the kitchen table, dragging his spoon through the remainder of his cereal, scooping out the last soggy pieces.

“I feel good about it,” Wonwoo hummed, referring to the history test he wrote yesterday, “I think I might’ve left out some information on the essay question.”

You closed the fish flakes and returned to the table, where you left your cup of tea.

“Eh, who cares,” you mumbled behind the rim, “you’re gonna get like a ninety-five anyways.”

The boy shrugged, pressing a fingertip to his glasses, moving them higher up his nose. He had always been diligent with his studying, though he often left the apartment to write notes at the library or a classmate’s dorm. It was difficult to accomplish much when Junhui would distract him, and rather than reading his textbook, Wonwoo would always end up playing computer games with the latter.

“Did you hear Jun come home last night?” You asked, gulping the rest of your tea.

Wonwoo set his bowl into the sink and filled it with water, smiling. It irked you somehow. You were only curious about whether or not he heard Jun return from his dance practice.

Joining him at the sink to clean your mug, you bumped his elbow. “What’s so cute over here?”

“Nothing,” he hummed dismissively, “I heard him crawl into bed, that’s pretty much it.”

“And that’s funny or something?”

“You ask about him quite frequently.” Wonwoo turned to you with a suspecting glance, one that made you subtly desire to dump a cup of water over his head. “You know that, right?”

The morning air was cool, yet your face felt immensely heated, almost prickling.

“I ask because we’re fri—”

“Friends. Yeah, yeah.” Wonwoo huffed, the omniscient smile creeping back toward his mouth, to which you could do nothing apart from gawk at your roommate despite his reiteration of a musing that wasn’t at all unfamiliar. “I’ve always loved you for your innate sense of comedy. It’s priceless.”

It’s what everyone assumed anyways. You and Jun fought tooth and nail to articulate your friendship, to paint with the colours that would lead everyone to believe it was true. Most often your explanations worked, yet there remained some who were particularly stubborn. Wonwoo was an evident case. But he was too close, too eagle-eyed, and he saw that you and Jun behaved in a manner completely beyond friendship. Despite the likewise feelings, something unbeknownst kept you apart.

“I know exactly what that means, idiot!” Echoed your shout as Wonwoo disappeared down the corridor, hoping to take refuge in his bedroom.

“I’m glad!” The depth of his voice reverberated into the kitchen, and you heard his door quickly shut.

No less than a few seconds later did Junhui reveal himself from around the corner, clean and freshened up after a steamy shower, one he desperately needed upon immediately passing out, sweat-soaked and exhausted in his bed the night before. Soonyoung definitely hadn’t taught their lesson with any degree of ease. Pretending you weren’t just quipping at Wonwoo, you smiled.

“Were you two fighting?” Jun asked, pulling out a frying pan from the cupboard. He usually whipped together an omelette for breakfast.

“No, not at all. We never fight, remember?”

Jun scoffed while opening the fridge, removing an egg carton and a plastic wrapping filled with vegetables. Still hungry, you started peeling open a tangerine from the fruit basket and stood next to him as he organized the produce onto a cutting board. Ever so faintly, you could smell the crisp scent to his aftershave. It was peculiar how a bit of foam could render your chest that cottony.

“In fact, when’s the last time you even remember an argument Wonwoo and I had?” You prodded.

“Two days ago,” Jun laughed, “when Wonwoo wanted to watch that exploration documentary on King Tut, but you changed the channel so you could finish the last season of Home Makeover.”

Pressing his rose lips together, Junhui casted you an innocent glance. “So there’s that.”

Separating a small slice of tangerine, you gently pushed the clove into the boy’s mouth. He smiled softly as he began to chew. With the gentle tang of citrus in the air, you set a hand on Jun’s shoulder and buried your face against his warm neck, whispering, “yeah, and it was definitely worth it.”

Quite frankly, neither you, Jun, Wonwoo, or Joshua were fairing optimally at the library. While Wonwoo sat on the opposite side of the table helping Joshua organize his economics presentation, you were neglecting your biology packet, instead choosing to sketch a tiny Princess Pebble in the paper’s upper corner. Jun had been tasked with reviewing his latest theatre script, yet he hadn’t even flicked through it. He was intrigued by one of the numerous mangas he’d saved to his phone.

“Take the last point off here,” Wonwoo said, peering over Joshua’s shoulder at his laptop, “there’s too much text, and this isn’t a major branch of your topic anyways.”

Joshua sighed as he made a few clicks on his keyboard. “Dude, I don’t think I can edit another word. This class is so boring.”

“Mr. Canning is just a boring professor,” Wonwoo sympathized, “it would be best if it were someone who weren’t so… dry. I guess is the right word.”

Slumping back in his chair, Joshua huffed, “he’s like a human chalk stick.”

Desperate to discuss something that wasn’t related to his lacklustre econ class, Joshua spared a glance at Jun’s unopened script. “Shouldn’t you be learning that?” He asked.

Jun didn’t look away from the phone in his lap. “I can’t do it here.”

“That means he’s going to open it for the first time at one in the morning, the day of his performance.” You chuckled, outlining the sketch of your guppy using Wonwoo’s pink gel pen.

Harshly, Jun’s hand smacked your knee under the table and you couldn’t help but laugh, garnering an over-the-shoulder glare from a student in the corner who’d been trying to focus on their colossal textbook. Wonwoo smiled at them apologetically while Joshua feigned as though he were typing something on his laptop. However, Jun’s hand didn’t leave your knee, and your laughter became an immediate drought, to which the sole thing you could feel was his palm creeping higher up your leg.

Attempting to be subtle, you turned your head slightly and looked at the boy with a bit of a warning expression, though Jun simply continued to scroll through his manga.

“I’m going to check the world history section,” Wonwoo announced, rising from the table, “anyone want to come with?”

Joshua pushed out his chair. “I’ll come just so I don’t have to stare at this shitty powerpoint.”

As soon as the boys walked beyond earshot, you pinched the edge of Jun’s ear. He finally tossed his phone onto the table, though he didn’t exactly appear compassionate, rather he was smirking, for he knew if you truly didn’t want his hand touching your leg then you would have bumped it away.

“You can’t do that.” Nonetheless, there surmounted a need to establish some insignificant boundary, one that neither of you were going to follow through. “Not when they’re so close.”

“But they didn’t see.” Jun replied, squeezing your inner thigh. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does. What if Joshua saw?” At that point, Wonwoo was fairly conditioned to your lingering fingertips, grazes and stares. He usually pretended not to notice them. However, Joshua was a risk.

Jun shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you worry too much? I always touch your leg.”

That was the problem. People trying to convince other people that their relationship was wholly platonic didn’t linger in such an intimate way. They didn’t creep fingertips up the other’s inner thigh beneath a tablecloth, or possess a gaze that traced the other’s lips like a delectable piece of candy when they spoke. There shouldn’t be any whispers pressed quickly against the other’s ear when no one else was looking, or the dire urge to climb into the other’s lap when their legs were wide open.

Both of you were afraid. Neither of you wanted to break the question that would thrust your relationship into the light. You kept waiting for the right time, but it always seemed one step ahead.

The movie theatre was nearly empty as the longwinded credit screen continued rolling, the last few congregations throwing their soda cups and empty packages into the garbage on their way out. Still, the floor of practically every row had been scattered with butter popcorn or melted m&m’s, shiny chocolate wrappers left crinkled in the recliners like the employees were supposed to take them home as gifts. Wonwoo put his hands on the back of his head, examining the disastrous rows.

You sensed he was feeling rather lucky about not being scheduled that night. Jun forced himself from the recliner and picked up his cup of fruit punch, jammed with way too many ice cubes.

If no one else was going to comment, you might as well. “That wasn’t the worst.”

“Agreed.” Wonwoo said, pushing up his glasses. “The murderer’s ploy was difficult to follow at times. I started getting confused when he left his car in the woods.”

“What?” Jun gawked. “That’s when you got confused? I didn’t even know what was happening after the first half hour.” His eyes gleamed in astonishment.

“Same.” You admitted. “I guess you’ll have to explain in the car.”

Reaching into the cupholder, you pulled out the package of strawberry tangs with nothing but a tiny amount of the powder-like sugar left inside.

“Thank you for picking up your trash,” Wonwoo sighed, taking the lead down the stairway while the credit music still played, “I’d hate to be working tonight.”

The wide corridor was completely vacant by the time you exited the theatre. Ever so slightly you could hear the galactic sound effects from the arcade machines. That buttery scent of popcorn seemed to waft no matter where you stood in the cinema. Wonwoo announced that he was going to check the concession counter to see who was on cash, but assured he would meet you and Jun at the back exit. Jun hurriedly downed his fruit punch in a large gulp before you emerged into the night.

You were confined to the small overhang by the doorway, for a hard rain was pelting against the concrete and turned the night air considerably cooler. Not one of you had checked the forecast beforehand, and you would undoubtedly get drenched straight through to the flesh in your thin long-sleeve.

“How are we going to make it to the car?” You groaned.

Pulling up his hood, Jun only laughed. “Now is a good time to be able to teleport.” He then stuck out his hand for a moment, the raindrops hitting his palm.

“Does it feel like bullets?”

“No. It feels kind of nice actually.” He remarked.

Curious, you rolled up your sleeve and extended your arm into the downpour. Jun was right, it felt satisfactory as each of the brisk droplets splashed your skin. However, you prematurely discovered the rain wasn’t so appealing when Jun suddenly shoved you from beneath the overhang.

“Hey— what the hell?!” You squealed upon the immediate repercussions, the cold water already leaking through your top while Junhui slapped his thigh, cackling.

Wanting to erase that luminous grin of his, you attempted wrestling the lanky boy into the weather, but no more than a few harmless drops skimmed his shoulder. Yet, with another brute shove, Jun stumbled, feeling the silver needles of rain pour down from the night sky and swirl at his dampening sneakers. He was laughing as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you hard against his chest before you were even cognisant that an immense wetness was soaking through your every article.

You wished it had been indignance drumming in your heart rather than affection, because it was taking every single fibre of your being not to kiss him. As the droplets beaded down his skin, he was like a springtime flower caught in the morning dew, and when he carded back the wet, black hairs plastered to his forehead, you thought it was possible to fall into him and never feel that concrete scrape your knees. Gently, his hand touched the small of your wet back, his breaths deepening.

He urged you in tighter as his tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting the rain.

You were shivering, frigid, though your blood was far too warm to let yourself take note. Instead, you moved your head closer, closer, Jun’s cold palm cupping your cheek and your eyes fluttering shut and your soft mouths just brushing together— until Wonwoo appeared from inside.

Instantly, you two pushed away from each other. With his eyes widening, Wonwoo stuttered.

“I-I’m… I’m going to pretend as best I can that something weird didn’t almost happen.” He stated, swallowing thickly. “Just… Why did you two have to get soaked? You’re sitting in my car, y’know!”

At last, you felt that icy shiver trickle down your spine.

“S-Sorry.” You hummed, teeth chattering.

“I guess it’s fine,” Wonwoo sighed, “I have some towels under the passenger’s seat.”

Not long after returning to the apartment, Wonwoo gathered his laptop and slipped into his pyjamas. He proceeded to flop onto the couch to edit his research paper, though it didn’t take much for his eyelids to start weighing down, his dense paragraphs blurring together on the screen. More often than not you would take advantage of Wonwoo’s midnight crashes in the living room.

After exchanging your damp, terribly cold clothes for a warm t-shirt and sweatpants, you found yourself cozied beneath Jun’s comforter for the umpteenth night. The boy’s head rested against the crook of your neck, where his slow breaths were cool to your skin, though they occasionally became heavier when your fingertips stroked at his smooth hair. He was much like a kitten who loved a thorough scratch behind the ears. You swore that he purred whenever you rubbed the right spot.

Holding out his phone, he’d been finishing an episode of his drama before bed. You tucked some of the black locks behind his ear, noting how much it’d grown over the months. Then your gaze wandered over every detail that shaped his face, as though he were a textured oil painting.

His eyes were always glimmering, seemingly innocent and curious, yet you knew just how much that earthly shade could darken when he fell into his professions. When Jun acted on stage, his gaze lost its untainted nature. It moulded into the role of the sinister characters he preferred playing. When he danced in blazing lights, those eyes were sharp enough to consume, to cut, almost like a razorblade.

But then you studied his lips, his heart-shaped cupid’s bow, the small constellation of moles that dotted his skin like kisses from past soulmates. You thought back to the mist and the rain, his hand resting against the small of your back, how close you were to tasting the flavourful, fruity mix of his drink. In fact, you wondered why you didn’t just kiss Junhui whenever you wanted. What was stopping you, in that moment, from turning his head toward you so that your lips could press to his?

Suddenly, the boy laughed at his phone screen, to which you felt the brassy reverberation erupt in his chest, his eyes glinting and his mouth stretched into a box-like smile. You pulled a few strands of hair from his forehead as he seemed to be glowing, his cheeks rosy.

Jun mewled in surprise when your fingers threaded rather tight through his black locks, feeling you tilt his head up until his gaze was burning into yours.

You didn’t hesitate. Leaning forward, you kissed him sweet and slow.

Jun’s eyes fluttered as the pressure warmed his mouth, a small whine getting caught in his throat upon the gentle sting of your hand tugging at his tresses, his scalp tingling. His phone sunk into the bedsheets, and instead he was gripping your t-shirt, moving his head with yours as the kiss deepened. He tasted like mint, and his small whines were silky.

How on earth could you have ever shied from kissing him when it felt so relieving? Nothing else held any significance to you apart from making his pretty lips shine.

However, you needed to catch your breath. Releasing the firm grasp on his hair, you detached your mouth from his, your chest rising and falling in great lengths. The boy’s eyes couldn’t be more glazed, his lips shimmering, flushed garnet and slightly swollen. Neither of you uttered a word. The blankets fell from Jun’s shoulders as he straddled your waist eagerly. Again, his mouth slotted with yours, and your hands slid up his caramel thighs, imprinting his flesh with the curve of your fingernails.

If you kept quiet enough, then perhaps Wonwoo would remain asleep until morning.

Standing amongst the crowd in the cramped performance hall, it was inevitable that you would get bumped around like a tiny, flying pinball. After rutting into Wonwoo’s shoulder for the third time, he seemed dauntingly close to losing his indolence and snapping, though he realized it wasn’t your fault that others were pushing toward the front of the stage and bit his tongue.

It became tradition for Soonyoung and his students to rent the downtown performance hall and host a fundraiser. The event typically lasted a few hours, with a few short interludes where the dancers would retreat backstage to catch their breath. Being Jun’s roommate, you and Wonwoo were always granted access into the small dressing room, and though you never admitted it, you loved experiencing that small flash of pride whenever the moonstruck audience watched you slip away.

The next interlude was closing in. Despite the different dancers on stage, you really, truthfully, only watched Jun. Each time he captured the centre position, you couldn’t help but cup your hands around your mouth, being one of the first to cheer overtop the deafening music as he moved so fluidly, with poise. He was a completely different person when he performed. Somehow, his tender-hearted nature would peel back and he’d emerge a domineering beacon.

As soon as the stage ended, an uproar rippled from the audience and resonated deep in your ears, to which you couldn’t help but slightly bury your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder to muffle the cacophony. Nonetheless, you were clapping, smiling, staring fondly as Jun grabbed his collar and fluffed it out, welcoming a slight gust of humid air. His skin was dewy with sweat, and yet he glowed beautifully, even when he was breathing so heavily through his nose.

Soonyoung was speaking into his microphone, but you missed half his speech, and before you knew it you were being dragged by Wonwoo through the crowd toward the backstage entrance. The room was at least big enough to accommodate the dancers. Jun was in the corner, gulping down his water.

“Only three more songs,” Wonwoo smiled, “you guys really stepped the level up this year.”

It took a moment before Jun replied, the column of his neck glittering as he completely crushed the plastic bottle in his hands.

“Yeah,” he burst out, “I’m freaking dying.”

“It’s for a good cause at least.” Wonwoo reasoned, ignoring how you stepped on his foot.

After Jun rolled his eyes, he was staring at you.

The air grew much too thick, and you had to clear your throat. “S-Seriously, you’ve improved so much. I can’t believe it.”

“Thanks,” Jun replied, scratching his nape, “it’s nothing special, really.”

“Uh? Nothing special?” Wonwoo quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t Soonyoung say you’re one of the best in the class?”

When Jun innocently flitted his gaze toward a distant spot and pressed his lips together, Wonwoo merely huffed, announcing he was going to the lobby for a drink of water. You watched him wind between the busy dancers, either wiping down their sweat or fanning themselves, until he disappeared out the door. When you faced Jun again, you looped your fingers through the satin collar of his stage outfit and kissed him quickly, knowing everyone was too occupied to take note.

He squeaked, “what happened to being careful?”

“This is your fault.” You eagerly pinned it on him. “Try being less hot.”

“That’s horrible advice. And also not possible. Which makes it worse than horrible.”

You weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to feel his mouth again or whack the side of his head with his deflated water bottle. Opting for latter, you stole another kiss, though you tensed in surprise when Jun wrapped his arm around your waist to secure your body firm against his. Hastily, you pushed at his toned stomach, your heart drilling manically as you looked over your shoulder toward the dancers. It didn’t appear as though anyone had seen and you breathed out in relief.

Suddenly, Soonyoung poked his head through the doorway.

“Ten minutes!” He shouted before disappearing.

Jun was staring at you with the most ingenious twinkle.

“That was your fault.” He purred, tapping your thigh with his water bottle. “Try being less hot.”

You did feel a small sliver of guilt. After all, Wonwoo had been waiting back at the apartment for approximately an hour, twiddling his thumbs, wondering why you and Jun required so much goddamn time just to buy some hot fudge sundaes. The molten taste of the chocolate, the vanilla ice cream, cold and sweet, was completely stolen from your lips by the boy whose lap you were occupying. Wonwoo’s sundae sat on the dashboard, dripping slowly beneath the evening sunlight.

And yet, that infinitesimal sliver was plucked straight out when Jun latched onto a sensitive patch of your neck, softly digging in his teeth and swirling his tongue. Your fingers sheathed through the black hair and pulled up at the roots, knowing how much pleasure he took from the dull sting. Button by button, Jun started to simultaneously open your shirt, to which you questioned if this was really happening, if you were really going to sort of out the complications of intercourse in his car.

The device abandoned in the passenger’s seat buzzed. You already knew the name to the text. As Jun kissed his way down to your collarbone, licking and suckling, you reached for your phone, feeling it buzz again with another impatient text. The guilt from earlier began to resurface.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] This is suspicious now. WHERE ARE YOU? >:(

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] Actually screw that. WHERE IS MY HOT FUDGE SUNDAE?

The screen blipped with yet another message.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] I know you’re reading these… Answer me or I won’t feed Princess Pebble!!

“J-Jun,” you piped up, hearing his low, husky mumble while he continued to mark your collarbone, “I think we need to go home now.”

The boy splayed a few more open-mouthed kisses against the skin before peeking up at you, his eyes wide and glimmering, lips flushed a deep magenta. With half the buttons of your shirt hanging open and your heart blazing, you had to snip the venereal longing in its bud.

“What’s wrong?” Jun hummed, pushing his fingers through the loops on your jeans. “Who’s texting?”

“Wonwoo. He’s been waiting for almost an hour, and his sundae is gonna be a puddle at this rate.”

He blinked a bit cluelessly, though still in musing. “There’s no way to be quick about this, is there?”

Rebuttoning your shirt, you shook your head and laughed. “Let’s wait before we ruin the car. I’m sure there’ll be a better time in the future.”

Jun nodded in agreement and relaxed back into the seat, a ray of sunshine that bled golden slanting through the windshield. Somehow, Wonwoo’s sundae wasn’t a complete pool sitting in the plastic cup, but that didn’t negate the fact he was still going to start his theory on responsibility and trust the moment you stepped onto the welcome mat. As you finished clasping the last buttons, something had caught Jun’s eye out the window, for he immediately panicked and tightly gripped your waist.

“Oh my god, g-get off my lap,” he grunted, to which your head bumped against the ceiling during the hurried shuffle and your knee whacked the gearstick.

“Ow! Okay, I’m going! Jeez, could you not give me a warning?”

“No,” Jun remarked, looking quickly to the rear-view mirror to straighten out his hair, “it’s Jeonghan and Soonyoung. They just came out of the store.”

When you glanced out Jun’s window, you noted the duo making their way across the parking lot, some plastic bags filled with groceries hanging from Jeonghan’s hand while Soonyoung appeared to be texting someone. To both your dismay, Soonyoung immediately recognized Jun’s car. You watched as the blonde bumped Jeonghan’s shoulder, how they took a slight detour on their way over.

“We have to talk to them?” You whined. “Are you kidding? Lock your window.”

Jun’s brow pinched together. “How is that going to help? They already saw us so just relax.”

“You’re telling me to relax? You practically threw me off your la—”

“Shht,” Jun snapped as the two boys drew nearer, “just shhhhht okay?” And with an incredibly large gulp, he plastered a happy-go-lucky smile to his mouth and let the window slide open.

“Jun?” Soonyoung called, leaning down slightly to peer inside the vehicle. “What’re you doing out here, huh? Back from shoplifting?”

Jeonghan bent down too, grinning snidely. “You looked a little frazzled or something.”

“Me?” Jun pointed at himself. “No, I’m fine. Just – we have to leave. Wonwoo is waiting.”

“Wonwoo?” Jeonghan seemed excited. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Hey, tell him I’m still appreciative for writing my World History paper on the Persian Empire.”

You knew it was best to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help your slight choke. Wonwoo had come home one day saying that one of his classmates offered him seventy-five bucks if he’d write their history paper. He wasn’t going to oblige originally, but cracked after listening to his classmate type out their introduction in the library, that it was just so bad Wonwoo felt piteous and decided to pitch in.

Gaping at Jeonghan, you exclaimed, “that was you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still dropped that class. And Wonwoo definitely thinks I’m a dumbass. But I didn’t have to do a spot of work, and now I’m getting smooth nineties in English. You just have to make up some shit and do a couple fancy indents and you’re set.”

Jeonghan paused, then leaned in a little further to look you up and down. “Y’know, I’ve never seen you before. How easily do you give out your numbe—”

“We really have to go,” Jun interrupted, already clicking the button to roll up the window, “see you at practice, Soonyoung. Bye Jeonghan!”

The two boys didn’t really have any other option apart from stepping back, allowing Jun to exit the parking space and turn onto the road. Not that it would help much, you turned on the air conditioning until it felt like the wind was pure ice, hoping that you’d be able to preserve Wonwoo’s melting fudge sundae. You made sure to text him on your whereabouts, that you were heading home, and churned up a white lie about how you ran into Jun’s friends who held a persistent conversation.

It wasn’t entirely false. And yet, Wonwoo still managed to see through it.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Just say you were making out.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Btw, I fed Princess Pebble.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: I’m not a sinner. Unlike you guys.

Later that evening, after delivering Wonwoo his melted cup of chocolate ice cream, after Jun quickly threw some extra clothes into his backpack and ran to his late-night dance practice, you were standing at the fish tank with some new plants you bought for your guppy. As the bright lights of the tank reflected across your face, there was a strange feeling inside you. It seemed like turbulence, confusion, your heart experiencing one sentiment but your brain thinking another.

You hadn’t realized you were absently standing there until Wonwoo came into the dark living room, holding a crumpled tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush. Watching the pink fish swim in between her new seaweed arrangement, he asked you if there was an extra tube stored in your bedroom.

“Don’t think so. Text Jun and ask him to stop at the store when his practice ends.”

“I’ll do that…” Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, you know I already fed Princess Pebble?”

He accompanied you at the tank. For some reason, you refused to look at Wonwoo. You felt unusually vulnerable, like a fragile shell that could be cracked open even by the gentlest hands, and the more you thought into your emotions, the harder your heart started pounding.

“I-I know,” you smiled weakly, “but I got her some new plants today. I just put them in.”

Wonwoo could always tell when something was off-kilter. You almost hated how sharp his senses were, that he was able to detect with such accuracy how you were being eaten up inside. Softly, he touched your shoulder, urged you to turn toward him so he could see the honest colour in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, pushing up the bridge of his glasses.

You felt terrified, but there was no sense in pretending.

“How do I tell Jun that I’m in love with him? That I don’t want us to be a secret anymore?”

It was a weighted question, and you knew that. But it was also the truth. As much as it could be invigorating to maintain a secret relationship, you were beginning to feel the brittle side effects that came with keeping such love behind closed doors. You didn’t want Jun to push you from his lap just because his friends might’ve seen you, nor did you want to keep an eye out for whether or not you should knock his hand off your thigh in public. The secrecy had been fun, but it wasn’t enough.

Scratching the blue collar of his shirt, Wonwoo appeared uncertain.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just think you shouldn’t repress this. You need to be upfront.”

“How?” It sounded like a desperate plead. “I don’t know how, Wonwoo.”

“Stop overthinking it,” the boy advised, grabbing onto your shoulders and giving your frame a small, grounding shake, “you know Jun. You know he isn’t a rash person. You know if you tell him he’ll hear every word of it. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re all he thinks about.”

Wonwoo brushed at the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t hurt yourself like this, okay? The next time you’re alone, just say how you feel. I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re hypothesizing.”

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded. Overthinking was a poison to you. It shouldn’t be that difficult to be honest, especially when you knew how attentive Jun was, the manner in which he always adapted himself to be of a comforting presence.

“Okay,” you attempted to draw together some confidence, “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” The boy grinned, still fiddling with his empty tube of toothpaste. “It really doesn’t bother me that you guys run around together. Just… please… never do anything weird in my bed.”

The next time you were alone with Jun, it was all but a desirable circumstance. Once you came home from work and heated up some leftover dinner in the microwave, you decided to feed Princess Pebble, though your jaw unhinged as you noticed something a little unorthodox about her tank: a pink blotch floating against the surface of the water. Immediately, the tears welted hot and stinging against your eyes. You had to use the small net to scoop your guppy out from the water.

Remarkably, Princess Pebble had lived a long life for a fish. You remembered walking with Jun to the pet store one summer afternoon, after you two finished your last day of eleventh grade and had just escaped a brutal chemistry exam. Rather than studying beforehand, you spent ample time researching different types of fish, and would often send Jun pictures asking him to choose which one he thought was cutest. Yet, at the end of it all, you chose a guppy with the prettiest pink scales.

“Don’t most people want a puppy? A kitten? And you choose a boring fish.”

Jun had teased, sounding awkward and a bit lisped through his braces.

Somehow, Princess Pebble had managed to live a five-year lifespan. Wonwoo told you most guppies live for two years, three years if the owner takes good care. Sitting at the kitchen table, you placed her body onto a piece of paper towel, the thick tears dripping down your cheeks while your sinuses grew wet and congested. You didn’t know if it was petulant to be your age, crying over a pet fish. In fact, you didn’t even possess the heart to rise from the table and discard her body.

It wasn’t much longer until Jun returned home after his theatre class, to which you heard his key rattling in the lock. Wonwoo was scheduled for a shift at the cinema, most likely handing out overpriced popcorn and chocolate and having to reject every person who asked for his number.

“Hey,” he called, shouldering off his backpack, “Wonwoo texted me. That weird thriller we were looking at is playing next week. We should—,”

Jun paused the moment he heard your runny sniffling. He didn’t realize that your fish was sitting on the paper towel until he took a few steps closer. You felt embarrassed Jun had to see you like this. If you were crying, it had always been over something with a little more gravity, like the time you were distraught about flunking your laboratory practical, and Wonwoo couldn’t persuade you to open your bedroom door no matter how frequently he stood outside, pleading.

Plucking at the collar of your shirt, you used the fabric to clear away the tears. Without a word, Jun grabbed another chair from the dining table and pulled it next to you, scooting in close. As soon as you felt his arm drape around your shoulders, it was like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub filled with water, to which you pressed your face against his neck and sobbed harder.

“I’m so sorry.” Jun whispered, hugging you tight to his comfortable chest. “It’s okay to be upset. I know how much she meant to you.”

He drew soothing strokes down the back of your head, and he sat with you until those wet pearls ran dry with salt. You knew it wasn’t wise to keep her body out in the air, that you would have to discard her somehow, yet the thought of having to flush her away seemed too cruel. Jun wiped the soft glisten from your cheeks with his sleeve, his fingers then tracing up and down the side of your face.

“I-I don’t want to flush her.” You blubbered.

The boy shook his head. “We won’t do that. We’ll find a good way to handle it.” His thumb brushed tenderly below the fragile skin of your eye for a moment, and he seemed to be in musing.

“Wait here.” He announced, suddenly running into his bedroom.

You could hear Jun shuffling through his closet, moving around clothing hangers and pushing aside boxes still filled with some of his old belongings from homelife in Shenzhen. When he remerged into the living room, he was holding a particular tissue box, one that you hadn’t seen since twelfth grade biology. You, Jun, and Wonwoo had painted and decorated the box as part of an optional project, to see if you could grow any plants from the packets of radish and tomato seeds your teacher had.

Nothing ever grew. Wonwoo claimed there had been some green sprouts when it was his turn to look after the makeshift garden, but that his cat snuck into his room and ate them all. Jun always kept a multitude of random things that dated back to your adolescence. As awkward and bumpy as those times were, seeing the tissue box reminded you that there had been precious moments too.

“Why do you still have that?” You laughed, even if your chest was aching.

“Because that was the first time us three did something together.” Jun said, returning to his seat beside you. “It was one of the first memories I made after moving away from home.”

You fondly looked at Jun while pulling the tissue box toward you, slathered in old, chipping acrylic paint and obnoxious, starry glitter.

Licking the dry salt off your lips, you smiled. “Princess Pebble would love this.”

“It can be her shrine. When Wonwoo comes home, we can find a good place to bury it.” Jun explained. “I know I called her boring five years ago, but I didn’t mean it. I loved her too.”

In the pensive silence, you thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo, recalling his firm grip on your shoulders as he reiterated the importance of freeing your heart, of not bogging yourself down with too many untold truths. Then, you glanced at Jun. You thought about that fluttering feeling when you kissed him, when you ran your fingers through his hair, listening to his deep-chested laughter whenever he gleefully buckled over into your lap after telling one of his hit-or-miss jokes.

The boy tensed slightly as you pulled him into a hug, though he quickly came to ease and warmth. You thanked him, because it just felt like the right thing to do for his compassion.

And then you told him something else.

“I love you.”

Without missing a heartbeat, he murmured against your hair, “I love you too.”

It was late, unreasonably late, the past-midnight late where the entire world falls still like an unperturbed pond. Downtown was completely hushed. Every so often the wind picked up, though it inevitably withered away in between the buildings and emerged a pitiful whistle onto the street. And yet, despite the fact you should be tucked in bed while the moon protected the silence in her silver hands, you were pushing outside the convenience shop with Jun close behind.

He took the end of a straw into his mouth and slurped at the sweet, cherry-flavoured slushie that was beginning to empty. Immediately, he crinkled his forehead and his face contorted.

“How many times have I said not to do that?” You laughed as he passed you the slippery cup.

“I don’t know. Three?” Jun replied with a grimace. “I can really feel it. Wait, I need a moment.”

You stopped next to the traffic post at the end of the street. Jun grabbed at his hair and squeezed like it was some miraculous remedy for curing a brain freeze. Directing the straw into your mouth, you sucked up the cherry syrup and crushed ice until you felt the distant ache thrum inside your head.

“Okay…” Jun concluded, brushing the long, black fringe from his eyes, “I’m good now.”

Thrusting the drink back into his hands, you couldn’t help but huff: “you’re such a baby.”

As though to prove your point, Jun started whining. “My head is so, so cold. It’s freezing.”

“So put this up or something.” You teased, reaching around the back of his neck to pull the boy’s hood over his head. Giggling slightly, you grinned at him as he shot you a questionable glance.

The streets remained quiet, and the sky was remarkably clear, no more than a few ragged and thin clouds drifting over the stars. The last time you had been on this corner, you were licking the strawberry sugar off your fingertips while Jun crumpled his last packet of popping candy. You remembered tracing the rose tint that warmed his lips, each fibre in your muscle twitching because you just wanted to wrap a hand through his locks and kiss him like he was your last breath.

You didn’t understand how you could love one person so much. Why love often fused itself into your bloodstream more than functionality. Your heart knew how to beat, yet it stumbled whenever you gazed at him. Your lungs knew how to filter the air, yet they closed up whenever you caught his eye. Your tongue knew how to articulate, yet it tied itself in a knot the moment he’d touch you.

“Hey,” you mumbled, patting his arm, “can I ask you something?”

Jun looked away from the stars, sipping at his drink again. He nodded.

The moon probably wanted to crush your heart in her hands for how loudly it was thumping.

“What if I told you that I want people to know we’re together? What would you say?”

Despite your anxiousness, you weren’t as afraid as you anticipated. Maybe it was because Jun didn’t immediately sour or attempt to disparage your sentiments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he blinked at you, but it didn’t matter. When it was most important, Jun picked his words carefully.

“I’d tell you that I want the same thing,” he admitted, his tone deepening and the amber in his cheeks sparked with pink, “that I want people to know how I feel about you… That I’ve always been in love with you.”

You smiled wide, like a kid who just got their braces off. Unable to contain such a rapturous energy, you stepped in close to Jun and held onto his shoulders, dotting the corners of his mouth with small kisses before you pressed your lips against his. You felt him smirk, though it seemed too devious. Jun had suddenly wrapped his arms around your lower back, pushing you in chest-to-chest. You melted as he kissed you, your fingertips ghosting along the soft hairs at his nape, the moonlight on your skin.

When you arrived back at the apartment, you could hear a few of Wonwoo’s gentle snores echo from behind the bedroom door. Just before you slipped away into your own room, Jun left a goodnight kiss to the top of your head, his hand thoughtfully squeezing your hip.

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

You finally knew what you should have said.

“Because I love you.”

✧✎ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET PRINCE!! never would i have imagined that someone who’s on the opposite side of the globe could mean so much to me ;_; mr. moon has been such a healing presence, and it’s bc of him that i have found so much happiness these past five years! whenever i see him smiling and laughing and have good ol times just being himself, all my worrisome thoughts somehow fade away and i feel only joy!!

anyways, i don’t want to ramble for too long (i could really fill a page with my cloying sentiments r.i.p) but i hope this was a wholesome fic!! the stars aligned and for once i was able to write a fic for a member’s birthday :_)

#svt fanfic #jun scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jun fic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #jun imagine #jun x reader #svt x reader #wen junhui #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #junhui scenarios #jun fluff #junhui fic

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 15 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (14)

Next part (16) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Missing

There are seven holes. Seven. But they aren't seven different nests, they're tunnels, with seven openings to the surface of the Earth. You only know that because Eleven spent the whole night focused on finding them, seated in the living room of Joyce's place, a piece of fabric covering her eyes. The map from before remained on the floor beside her, and she reached out to draw where the tunnels reach. You barely had any sleep, just the pair of hours you slept with your head on Billy's shoulder, seated on the couch, but someone's voice woke you up.

Relief fills your heart when the morning comes. During the night, you could only think about those things lurking around. After a quick shower, and using one of Eleven's shirt, you go to the kitchen and decide to have breakfast there, where you can be alone. Eating a bowl of cereal, you run a hand through your hair, trying to understand how are you going back to the pool today and act like none of this is happening.

“Hey, princess,” Billy says, coming into the kitchen. Hair is still wet and wearing only his jacket. “Are you ok?”

“I'm trying to be.” Pushing the bowl away, you watch as he makes himself the same meal you had. “Wondering how am I going to work today.”

“Wanna stay here? I can tell Anthony that you're sick. If he even shows up.”

“No. It'll be worse if I stay.” You're confused, not sure what's the best or what's worse. But at least in the pool you'll have something normal going on.

“Hey, you two,” Joyce says as she comes in. Her voice gets your attention, and when you look at her after exchanging a glance with Billy, you see that Hopper is right behind her, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed together. “How are you two doing?”

“Uhm... Good.” It sounds like a question. Joyce sits at the table, with Hopper standing behind her. He has the chief face on, and you have no idea why. “Everything alright? Are we in trouble or something?” Gesturing at you and Billy, and cross your legs, an eye on the clock because you'll still need to stop by home to get the swimsuit.

“No, of course not. It's just that the kids were talking about something and–”

“Are you two living together?" Hopper speaks up, swallowing Joyce's words. She gives him a hard stare, and there's some kind of conversation going on through facial expressions that you can't understand.

“Yes.” You answer, not sure why you're in this situation in the first place. You feel like you're having the talk with Diane all over again. Diane. You have to call her, just to make sure everything is alright. “Why?”

“There were some rumors running around that–”

“That Billy Hargrove got some chick pregnant.” Hopper again. But this time Joyce slaps his arm.

“We agreed you'd let me do this.” She whispers.

“Then just get to the damn point.” He snaps back.

With wide eyes, you look at Billy. He doesn't seem bothered by this, peacefully eating his cereal. There's a smile on his lips that he tries to hold back, but you know him far too well now. You can see it. He's having fun.

“Look, guys, Uhm... These rumors started after I fainted on the pool, but it was from heat exhaustion, so...” Deciding to just end whatever this is, you speak up, kicking Billy's leg and whispering to him. “Say something.”

“(Y/N), honey, do your parents know about that?”

This makes you laugh, but then you remember Joyce doesn't know about your relationship, or better saying, the lack of it. “No, and I don't plan on doing that. But my aunt Diane does.”

“And she allowed it?” Hopper takes his time pronouncing every word as if this is absurd. “You're lucky you're not my daughter.”

“Hopper, just...” Joyce mumbles, her voice fading. “We just wanted to make sure you guys are... You know... Going somewhere with this. Living together is something really big and important to do.”

“I'll only say two things.” Billy finally makes his presence known, getting up and throwing his bowl in the sink. “First of all, I'm planning on marrying (Y/N). Second, we better go now or we'll be late. Again.”

There's a weird buzz in your ears as Billy takes your hand and starts pulling you with him. Joyce and Hopper have wide eyes, mouth half-open, in shock. You're not that different, and all your body is able to do is keep following Billy outside and to his car. You're silently looking through the window as he drives, but you're doing that on purpose, just to get back at him for saying that out of the blue.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” He asks parking in front of the house.

“Absolutely not.” Stepping out of the car, you don't wait for him, heading inside. “If you really wanna do what you said, I'll patiently wait until you propose, Hargrove.” Turning around just enough to wink at him, you bite back a smile.

You're quick to get ready and manage not to be late. The song is blasting when Billy pulls over on his parking spot, and the moment the song is gone, you hear the chattering, noticing three police cars.

Your heart skips a beat when you leave the car, taking a deep breath. “Hey,” Billy calls, taking your hand. “Let's check what happened before jumping to conclusions, ok?”

“Ok.” Holding his arm, you move to the entrance, where a small crowd gathers. Hopper is here, and by the messy way of his clothes, he had to run over here. He immediately notices you and Billy, a sad look on his face. And that's when you see Monica, running a hand through her hair, tears glistening on her cheeks.

“Mon?” Calling, you let go of Billy and runs to her. Monica breaks a little bit when she sees you, and you're quick to hug her. “Mon, what happened?”

“It's Jason. My cousin is missing, (Y/N).” She cries on your shoulder, and you close your eyes tight because the first thing that comes to your head is probably what got him. The Demodogs. “He went out yesterday to buy dinner a-and his mom called mine saying he was taking long and...” You pull away, holding her hands. “...that was early evening yesterday. And he's still missing. The family spent the whole night looking for him and–”

“Mon, I'm sure we'll find him.” It's hard to lie. It's even harder not to break down in front of her. “Maybe he felt bad and fainted or something like that. We'll find him.”

“I hope so.”

“I'll drive you home, ok? Billy can keep the pools safe for one day.”

When she nods, drying off some tears, you make your way over him, who's talking to Hopper. He probably already knows, but you try to keep a straight face.

“Come here, princess.” He opens his arms and you don't even hesitate, hugging him tightly. “I'm so sorry. But we'll find him. The party is already aware of everything.” Whispering on my ear, Billy places a kiss on the top of your hair.

“I...” Getting rid of the single tear that escaped your efforts to hold it back, you pull away. “I'll take her home, she's very shaken. Can you just keep an eye–”

“Keep an eye on the kids, of course.” He bends over to kiss you, and your arms, almost automatically, move to be around his neck. “I'll pick you up after work, ok? I love you.”

“I love you.” It still makes you blush to hear those words, but you absolutely love to say it back. After one last kiss, you part ways.

Monica talks as you drive to her place, sharing memories with her cousin. Some of them you already know, but you don't stop her, laughing and making silly comments, trying to keep her mind away from the fact that Jason is missing.

Your mind also starts remembering. Obviously, you didn't have all the time around Jason that Monica had, but he was one of the first people you met when you got here. He's always smiling, carrying his siblings around, always complaining, but always happy to be with them. Jason is funny, even when he's the only one who actually gets his jokes.

Jason is missing.

Demidogs need a lot of food. An almost 6 feet tall male human has a lot of meat.

Shaking your head lightly, you push these thoughts away. No breaking down now. Monica needs you strong, to keep her strong too. Her family is either at Jason's or still looking, so you're alone. Both of you stay seated on her bed, and you give her your shoulder when she starts crying again. He's gone for one night and she's already losing it... If anything bad happens...

Her parents return home a couple of hours later, thankful to you for taking her back home. You drag her into the living room, turning the TV on this random movie and trying to convince her to pay some attention. You can hear her parents in the kitchen, making lunch, but you also hear when her mother cries, the low, cracking voice as she talks to her husband. It's getting hard by the minute to stay here, pretending you don't know what probably happened, but if you cry, if you start doubting Jason is ok, Monica will break apart.

A knock on the door, an unusually loud and frenetic knock, gets your attention. Looking over your shoulder, you see as Monica's father goes to answer it.

“Hi. Is (Y/N) here?” You hear a feminine voice, and you soon recognize it's Nancy.

Excusing yourself, you get up. “Yes, she's–”

“Hey.” You go to the front door, seeing Nancy and two cars in the sidewalk, many eyes looking at you. “Something wrong?”

“Sorry, but we need you. Uhm... Maxine is sick. We need to have a doctor check on her.”

“What?” You exclaim, running a hand through your hair. “Mon.” Calling her, you quickly make your way back to the living room. “I'm so sorry, but Maxine is feeling ill, I have to go. But I promise I'll call you later, ok?”

“Sure. Go help.” She says, nodding and clearing her throat since her voice is all clouded by her crying.

“Stay calm, honey. Jason is alright, I'm sure.” Another lie. You shouldn't make promises you don't know if you can keep. Giving her a quick hug, you run outside, muttering a goodbye to Mon's father as Nancy does the same.

“We'll go looking for him.” She says in a low voice as you move toward the cars. “We don't stand still when shit happens.”

Her choice of words makes you raise your eyebrows. You never heard her saying anything like that. “Thanks.” Muttering, you seat shotgun in Steve's car as she goes to Jonathan's. There are four kids on the back seat, fighting for some more space. You're happy to see Max is alright. For a moment, you thought she was really sick.

You park in the woods, and there are already some people here. Everyone but Hopper, because he has to be in the official search party, and Billy. God, you wish Billy was here.

“Alright, let's do this,” Mike says, and he freely starts separating you in groups. “Eleven and Will with me. Lucas, Jonathan, and Robin. Uhm... Max, Steve, and (Y/N). Joyce–”

“Why are you messing up the groups, man. I wanna go with Max.” Lucas complains and Mike rolls his eyes. “Groups of four, as usual.”

“Since when?”

“Alright, just gather in groups, c'mon, guys,” Joyce says, eyeing both her kids until they go to stand by her side, alongside Nancy.

You move to stand with Max and Lucas, and after playing rock, paper, scissors with Robin, Steve comes to your group. You raise your eyebrows at him, trying to get why they had to use that method to choose a group. “Nobody wants to be with these two lovebirds.” He says when he's close enough.

“That's something I can understand.” There's no doubt Max and Lucas are into each other, but they're constantly fighting. It's funny to watch, actually.

“Let's get started then, guys. Be careful, pay attention to the radios, and let's find Jason.” Joyce announces, taking over Hopper's role in this.

And everyone starts moving, each group in a different direction. You're going to the holes first, just to check, and then you'll cover a specific area. Max and Lucas are once again responsible for the map and walk a couple of feet ahead.

“Hey. Take this.” Steve gets your attention, taking the bat from his backpack and handing it over to you. “I know Jason was a close friend of yours. Sorry this happened.”

“Yeah.” You lay the bat over your shoulder, careful not to entangle your hair in the nails. “I really thought it couldn't get any worse but life proved me wrong.”

“I remember when Will went missing. I was a total jerk back then so I didn't really care.” You glance over to Steve, and he has an apologetic look on his face. “They found the body and there was a funeral. But the body was fake and Will was fine in the end.”

“Someone should make a movie out of that story.” You mumble, taking a deep breath. “Do you think Jason could be in the... Upside Down?”

“No. According to Eleven, no portals were open. The Demodogs just made these woods into their new home and are doing what it takes to survive.” Through the corner of your eyes, you see when he almost slips, opening his arms slightly to regain balance. “Don't laugh.” He says, but you're already chuckling. “Anyway, wherever he is, he's here.”

“Why don't we tell Eleven to just use her powers and find him. Wouldn't it be easier?”

“These woods are huge. And we usually just do that when it's the last resource.” Lucas answers.

“We don't like pushing her. It always brings back sad memories.”

That's something you can understand perfectly. “We do it the old way then.” You've seen how complicated it is. Eleven's nose wouldn't stop bleeding while she was figuring out the tunnels, and after while blood came out of her ears too. As much as you want to find Jason, you'd never ask her or the party to do something just so you'd feel better. They're in it far longer than you, so you trust them to make the decisions and set the pace. “I just hope he's alright. He's Monica's cousin, and she's worried to death.”

“Yeah, I get that.” It doesn't go unnoticed how Steve doesn't make false promises as you did with Monica. He doesn't say he's ok, that you'll find him. Running a hand through your hair, you take a deep breath, confused between having hopes or just expecting the worse. “So, changing the subject.” He speaks again. “You and Hargrove. I never thought Billy would actually fall in love.”

A smile comes to your lips, and you're thankful for having something else to think about. “Yeah. It took a while for me to believe that but he... He worked hard.” Involuntary, your hand goes for the necklace, fingers playing with the earring.

“Joyce and Hopper were saying something about marriage...” It sounds like a question, and you give Steve a glance, giggling. “They were trying not to let anyone hear them but Hopper doesn't really know how to whisper.”

By the heat spreading through your cheeks, you know you're blushing. Could it be real? Would Billy marry you? Is he really considering such a thing? “We spoke about it, Uhm... Twice, I think. But not a real conversation, he just spilled it out.”

“Holy shit, he's going serious with you then.” He playfully elbows your arm. By what you've seen and by what Max told you, Steve usually grows protective of everyone since he joined the party, and you think it's cute. He's like everyone's babysitter. “Send me an invitation, would you?”

“I will.”

“You–”

Maxine's yell cuts him short, getting your attention as you notice you have fallen behind. Immediately, you and Steve start running towards then.

“Man, that's...” Lucas says as Max hugs him, eyes tightly shut.

You're about to ask them what the hell happened when you follow Lucas' scared stare.

It's a weird sensation when you're brain refuses to take in the information. When your eyes, focused on something, are blind. And your ears are deaf and the wind blowing doesn't touch your skin. It's like you're not there.

Jason's body is stuck between a big rock and a dead tree. His torso is opened up, and there's nothing inside.

As there's nothing inside Jason anymore. He's empty. Body and soul. There will be no laughter leaving his lips, no more jokes, no more arms to carry his baby siblings around. Nothing. Just flesh and bones, both ripped apart.

“(Y/N).” You're sure it's not the first time you hear someone calling your name, but you're not even sure where it comes from.

You only move when an arm pulls you, and you feel it around you. “We have to go. C'mon.” Steve says, and, far and distant, you hear static, and voices, coming from the radio. “(Y/N).”

“I need Billy.” It's the only thing that comes to your head, and you find a way to force the words out of your throat.

“Alright, let's go,” Steve says, and you're only set on motion because of his arm around your shoulders.

Everything is a blur. You notice people moving around, and some of them come to hug you as they start regrouping near the cars. Nodding and thanking their kind words, you remain silent, arms crossed, the image still burning in your brain.

Jason's rib cage broken open, the blood staining his clothes and the ground around him. His head twisted in an awkward way, neck probably disconnected from the body.

“Let's get moving. She wants to talk to Billy.”

“The pool will close in an hour. Take her home.”

“No, she's scaring me. We need to take her to Billy.” Max intervenes, and Steve pulls you to his car. You let Max seat shotgun, feeling better in the backseat where you can curl into a ball, knees pressed against your chest as the landscape passes by.

It reminds you the first time you saw that thing. You were trying to beat Billy, driving back to your place. Maybe, if you had gone to the police station the next day, let them know something was out there, you could've avoided this. But who would believe you? You didn't believe it either. What are you going to tell Monica? After saying things would be ok, that they would find Jason alive and well when you knew being out in the woods all night long probably meant he'd become Demodog's meal.

You knew it, yet you lied. Vain hope is the worst kind of hope, and that's what you gave her.

“(Y/N).” Steve gets your attention, touching your shoulder. “We're at the pool.”

Blinking a few times to wake up from the stupor, you bolt out of the car, making your way to the entrance. It's crowded today, but you don't see faces, you just see obstacles.

It finally starts kicking in.

You went to find Jason, and you did. But instead of the dear friend you so easily grew to love, you found a dead, empty corpse. The tears threat to overflow as you rudely bump into people, making your way through the pool. At a distance, you see the moment Billy finally notices the commotion, his eyes quick to find you. By the way his face changes, the way he takes off his sunglasses and jumps to the ground, shoving people out of his way, you must be looking terrible.

But you don't care. Billy is everything you need, the only thing you see and you know you can break down in his arms. You just need to reach him, and when you do, you collapse against his chest, not able to hold back the tears anymore, the sobs building up your throat as you hold onto him.

“I'm so sorry,” Billy mumbles in your ear. He knows. How could he not?

You suddenly feel him lifting you up, and you hide your teary face on the crook of his neck. Seconds later you're at the locker room, and Billy screams for the other girls to get out as he puts you down, seated on one of the benches.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N).” He repeats, kneeled before you, thumbs coming to dry off some tears, just to make space for more.

“I saw him. H-he was all eaten, Billy. His body was-his body was wide open and everything was gone–”

“Stop, stop.” He begs, pulling you into a hug. “You don't have to tell me, not now.” Nodding, you take in his scent, feeling safe, secure, despite the terror creeping under your skin. “I'll take you home, ok?”

“No.” You mutter, pulling away just enough so you're foreheads are touching. You don't know what comes to you, but this has to be said. This feeling has to be let out. Not after, not tomorrow. Now. Maybe it's the fact that you saw death for the very first time. You just need to let him know “You're my home.”

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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donkey-hyuck · 4 years

Text

word count- 2.5k+

genre- FLUFFY | neighbor!au

characters/pairings- neighbor!jeno x reader (gender neutral) | dreamies

warnings- language | dialogue heavy | over usage of words bc i’m irrelevant | the cutest people ever

introduction- since moving to the city— closer to your university— you noticed that your cat had taken an interest in another cat from the apartment building across from yours. she seemed very intrigued and things only escalated. in a good way for the both of you. because who knew such a good looking guy owned three cats he was allergic to?

a/n- based on some ‘the dodo’ story i saw a couple months ago and it was so cute hehe. also yes this is another jeno drabble thingy okay. and idk where the divider is from, i just have it on my phone sorry :(

the last box you had packed prior was finally set in your new apartment by your brother.

“this is the last one, right? because i’m not helping you anymore,” he huffed out a breath and rested his hands on his thigh. you snorted out a laugh and responded, “lazy ass. yeah, this is the last box. thanks for coming.”

you invited your brother to stay a bit later to treat him for takeout but he declined and reassured you he was fine and was going to head home. nodding your head, you just agreed as you walked him to the door.

it was only about six p.m. when you decided to unpack the rest of the boxes that you and your brother had brought up. when walking back into the living room, the shades to the window were still opened and you saw your cat, bomi, sitting by the window peering through the opened shades. the apartments from the complex across from yours were the same as any others. many university students or young adults filled the rooms, some curtains were closed, and some were lit up by the LED lights that lined their ceilings. but one window was opened. it showcased the large tv the stranger had as well as three cats by the window as well. one of them was even similar to bomi. however you thought nothing of it, too tired of driving back and forth and bringing boxes up and down. so you closed everything in for the night after unpacking about three or four boxes.

the following morning, you walked to the kitchen. and through the opened kitchen was your living room which you saw bomi sitting at the window again. you had called her over and put the cat food in the bowl for her breakfast. after leaving bomi for her breakfast, you grabbed your laptop from your bedroom and sat on the couch to finish some work and answer emails from your new university. moments of rereading emails stopped when you looked up— for no particular reason— and saw the same cats that caught bomi’s attention by the window. and then the shade was opened. oh wow.

the owner of the cats was a male. you didn’t want to assume but he looked as though he was around the same age as you. and he was cute. really fucking cute. the guy that opened the shade was wearing a pair of adidas track pants and was shirtless. and you just stared at him, as creepy as it looked and sounded like. by his feet were his three cats and bomi was sat next to the window once again.

“bomi, what’s wrong with you all of a sudden?” you asked and grabbed her small body and sat back on the couch. “do you want friends now? are you lonely because we moved?” you joked to yourself and scratched behind her ears. but once you set her free from your grasp, she sat by the window and you noticed one of his cats was looking at bomi. just as you were about to put away your laptop, bomi got up and walked around the perimeter of the window with her head still facing out the ceiling-to-floor window.

your eyes followed her feline figure and an idea shot up from your noggin. you didn’t know if it would work but it was worth a shot. so you went to your car and drove to a nearby craft store to buy some poster boards and markers. when you got home, you contemplated in your mind for a couple minutes before just going for it. fuck it. you wrote the poster as if you were in bomi’s body. and you thought it was a bit childish and unrealistic but it was worth a try.

‘hi, i’m bomi from the apartment complex next door. i see you three cats, do you wanna be friends?’ unbelievable. absolutely unbelievable. but you just taped it up on the window and closed the shade just enough for you not to see if he responded and got ready to go to your job. this was never going to work.

—

when you got home, the sun was just barely setting and bomi was once again, sitting by the window and looking out into that apartment. you sighed to yourself and picked her up before opening the shade to see if the cats— or more so the boy— had responded.

thankfully, the boy didn’t reply and it calmed your nerves down a bit more. the entire day you were away at work, thoughts filled your head about all the possible outcomes that could happen. without realizing, you breathed out in relief and set down bomi to get ready to eat dinner and shower. all the while, you forgot about the poster and there it was— left taped on the window.

donghyuck, renjun, and chenle had been over jeno’s apartment that day when they saw the poster taped on your window.

“jeno! who’s bomi?” exclaimed hyuck with his brows raised up and down, playfully. jeno got up from his seat at the kitchen island when he looked out the window behind his couch. he then just shrugged but did not miss the cat that looked somewhat like seol. then renjun spoke, “maybe it’s that cat. hey, doesn’t she look a little like seol?” chenle went toward the window to put his two cents into the conversation, “hey, she kinda does! what if she’s looking at your cats, jeno?” he asked and pointed out the window. “we should write back!” he then said with a bright smile on his face.

“we can, but i don’t have any poster paper right now,” he excused. though the boys thought he was lying they suggested that they would go to the nearest corner store to buy some cheap poster papers to reply to you.

and they did, but around ten at night when you were long gone from your living room and asleep in your bed. bomi wasn’t at the window either, but they still decided to write the letter for you in the morning.

‘i’m seol, the one that looks like you. the one with the black is nal and the one with the gray stripes is bongshik. it’s nice to meet you!’ read the sign. jeno could not believe he was writing back to a stranger he’s never even seen before. but it was whatever, new friends for his cats, he figured. the male held the sign in front of him for a minute before just shaking his head and taping the poster to his window and he was out for the night.

—

the morning you woke up, you had set a reminder to yourself that your classes started today and got up from your bed to make breakfast for both you and your kitty. opening the shade to the window, bomi was pawing and softly meowing at the window.

noticing the paper still stuck on the window, you mentally curse yourself out and look to the opposite side of your building. there was also a piece of poster paper that was taped onto the window with his three cats under it, looking out into the city. you identified the three cats immediately.

“bomi look! you really do look like seol. they can be your friends instead of those alley cats back home,” you spoke to her and then got ready to attend your nine a.m. class. however before putting on your shoes, you wrote back a little note for the cats on the opposite building.

‘great! y/n (my owner) is at university but let’s meet some day!’ you still could not believe you were doing this as you finished taping up the board. you left it there for the day as you went to your classes for the next couple hours.

throughout your first classes, your mind always went back to what happened the last few days. your neighbors as well as his neighbors must’ve thought you were both crazy. but anything for your cats.

—

for some reason when you got home, you were in a rush to see if the boy had responded to the message you left that morning. and in all hell, he did.

‘hey! jeno (our owner) is on his way to class too! and yes, let’s definitely meet one day! our owners can meet too!’

when jeno awoke that morning, he was shoving cereal down his throat and looked at your window. his heart was beating faster as he read over the note and ran to put away his bowl and get ready for his class. though he didn’t forget to write back at you, even if you probably wouldn’t see it until later.

with the cap of the marker in his mouth, jeno quickly wrote down what he was going to say and messily taped the poster to his window and left his house. he was almost late for his nine a.m. class.

watching the students come in you noticed the owner of bongsik, nal, and seol come into the room. oh shit. you tried to hide yourself behind the screen of your laptop when you remembered that he’s probably never seen you before. so slowly, you escaped your little hideaway and kept your identity on the low. because he might have seen you in broad daylight when your shades were up. but he didn’t, so you were safe.

—

looking at the message taped to his window, you wrote back.

you were sitting on the carpet floor of the living room when jeno finally saw you; specifically your side profile but he wasn’t complaining. you were doing the same thing he was that morning— the marker cap in your mouth with your brows furrowed.

he then saw your face when you sat up and got the roll of tape to stick on the glass. and you too, saw him looking at you with a smile on his face. your jaw was slightly dropped and the cap of the marker fell from your mouth as the boy laughed at your expression, then he waved. your eyes were opened wide and you shyly waved back.

jeno read over the note you just wrote. ‘hi i’m y/n (sorry this whole thing was so weird but my cat would not stop meowing at yours) but we could meet at the park? if you’d like?’ he smiled even more as he read over your writing. jeno nodded and asked ‘is it okay if we meet now?’ to which you shook your head ‘yes’ and were on your way to the nearest park (which was a measly three minute walk from your apartment.) then, you realized you never specified a park and just hoped he came to this one.

your hands were in your pockets as you awkwardly looked around to see the cute boy that lived across the street. he came up from behind you and greeted, “hi, i’m jeno.”

upon the sudden talk, you slightly jumped and turned around as he laughed again, his eye smile on full display.

the two of you walked around the park and conversed for what seemed like a couple minutes. but after you exchanged numbers and arrived home, you realized you had been at the park for a good hour and a half. holy shit.

you found out a little bit more about lee jeno. he was allergic to cats yet he still adopted three (which was beyond the epitome of cute), that he also moved to the city around a year ago, and that you two were attending the same nine a.m. class. you two had so much in common, huh?

arriving home to his apartment, jeno laid on his bed with his hand over his heart. it was beating fast. who knew his cats would bring him someone so attractive?

just as he was thinking about you, seol jumped on his bed and knocks were heard from his front door. he rolled his eyes and got up from his bed, it was his best friends staying for the night. it was a friday, after all.

while hanging with his best friends he decided to message you to see what was popping i hate that i said that lmao. and through the next two movies, jeno was not paying attention. he’d look to see what was happening here and there but always trained his eyes back to his phone.

“ayy why are you on your phone?” teased jaemin and hyuck.

“yeah, who are you texting this time at night?” said mark and jisung.

“and why are you texting someone?” poked chenle and renjun.

none of these questions were barely answered because jeno was too busy smiling at his screen. but then mark looked over his shoulder to see that jeno was texting you.

“ayyy, who’s y/n?” mark raised his voice and hit jeno’s strong bicep. just as your name exited mark’s mouth, jaemin’s eyes lit up and knew who you were.

“oh my god, that’s soojin’s new neighbor!” he shouted and stood up from the couch.

“jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend! jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend! jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend!” the six boys jumped from their seats and chanted. renjun then reminded them that you lived across the street and they ran to the window to see if you were there. unfortunately for them, your shades were closed and the only thing they were able to see was bomi.

“hey doesn’t that cat kinda look like seol?”

the next day (after his friends had left), jeno invited you to come to his apartment so that bomi could meet his three cats, two which you agreed and packed whatever bomi needed. you weren’t going to stay there long, right?

—

when bomi met bongshik, nal, and seol, the four of them kicked it off nicely. there was no hissing nor scratching and it made both you and jeno happy to see that your cats were getting along after never having a meeting. so while your cats played around in jeno’s apartment, he offered to let you stay for dinner. you were hesitant at first but agreed as he ordered some soju and chicken. predictable.

to you, jeno was being nice. though he was cute, you didn’t really know who he was and so you didn’t have a reason to catch feelings for him. but to jeno, you were more of a crush. not a big one since you both just met, but a tiny one. he knew you were a good person at heart and he couldn’t help the little emotions that he felt in his chest.

—

after many play dates between your pets, you did actually start to form feelings for lee jeno and he finally had the guts to ask if you wanted to go on a date.

“i thought you would never ask.”

and though it all deemed impossible and like a fairytale, you were glad you spoke up that day. because in the end, you got a boyfriend that was loving, and your cats had each other to play with.

#nct #nct dream #nct u #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct jeno #nct jeno fics #lee jeno soft hours #lee jeno scenarios #lee jeno drabbles #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno imagines #jeno au #jeno x reader #lee jeno

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 - Of the D.A. and the good ol’ fashioned muggle beating

series masterlist

tags: @weasleysbees ; @gloryekaterina ; @thatguppienamedbae ; @sagittarius-flowerchild; @hufflepuff5972 ; @pandaxnienke ; @izzyyy-1 and also @valwritesx because you mentioned wanting to give it a read

if you’d like to be added/removed, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, sexual references, mentions of food, violence, a tiny bit of angst word count: 2895 a/n: I had so much fun getting back to this, but simultaneously, at the moment of checking and editing it I’m on my period and super irritable, so I’m not confident about how it came out, didn’t wan’t to hold it up any longer, though, so I hope you like it.

If you have any feedback, please let me know!

—————④—————

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Alicia Spinnet asked in a tiny whisper. “It has to, I mean, why wouldn’t it? It’s really simple, nothing complicated,” you answered while scoping an intersection before taking a turn. “Why didn’t we take Angie..?” Alicia fretted. “Oh, you know what she’d say. Besides, she’s got important things on her mind now, the quidditch team and all…” “Right, right…” Alicia nodded, “but we could’ve asked Fred and George..?” she complained, looking around the dark corridors. “We don’t need them,” you whispered back, “we can do this on our own, now pull yourself together, girl..!” you said, trying to hide just how nervous you were yourself. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” she started walking a little closer to you, as you lit the way with your wand, holding it low enough not to wake the portraits. “We’ve got this.”

“How much do we need?” Alicia questioned, scraping some moss off of an old castle wall. “I dunno… a lot?” you shrugged your shoulders and she glared at you, “keep going, definitely more than that.”

“Did you hear that?” she froze, terrified. You looked around the two of you, scanning your surroundings as your heart rate spiked up, “I didn’t hear anything. Let’s switch, you keep a lookout,” you instructed.

“Here goes nothing,” you pointed your wand at the bucket, standing in an abandoned storage room, in an empty part of the castle, “geminio.”

The bucket multiplied.

“Awesome…” said Alicia, before a long yawn escaped her lips. “Minnie would be proud of me,” you noted, then performed the same spell a few more times.

—————④—————

You were quite weary the next morning, having breakfast with Angelina and Alicia, who was having trouble staying awake over her bowl of cereal.

“Morning,” greeted Fred and George, sliding into empty seats, even though they had free period first, and were lazily greeted back.

Hermione was reading The Daily Prophet a few seats further, and after a few seconds Fred asked, “Inspections..?” “Yeah, she’s gonna be sitting in on our lessons now, apparently. To make reports,” Angelina answered flatly, with a bit of irritation in her voice. “Oh, that should be fun,” George commented, to which Fred added, “I bet, a real shit-show” with a smirk.

Only then George glanced at the still not quite healed sentence on your hand and his face fell a bit, as your friends continued the conversation. Instead of going over the same thoughts once again, he took notice of your posture, facial expression and tired eyes.

“What’s up?” he nudged you with his elbow lightly. “Huh..?” you mumbled. “You look like death,” he stated. “Oh, thanks, charmer,” you replied sarcastically, pouring yourself a bit more coffee. “Everything alright?” George asked. “Yeah, stayed up late, is all,” you answered, avoiding further explanation and George nodded in response.

“What do you have first period?” he asked after a bit of silence, even though he knew the answer. “Ancient runes.”

Later that day, before lunch, you had charms with Flitwick. It was one of few classes George, Fred and you had together.

As soon as the three of you walked into the classroom you noticed the pink toad standing at the front, talking to Flitwick, and you groaned involuntarily.

You walked over to one of the long benches to take your usual seat. George, instead of going to the next one and take his usual seat with Fred behind you, kept walking with you.

“Ehm, excuse me? That’s- that’s my seat,” Clint Nicholson, the Ravenclaw boy who usually sat next to you, pointed out. George gave him a single glance, “find a new one, mate,” he told him and you watched, a bit puzzled. “Will do.” Clint nodded right away and walked away, sitting next to some housemate of his.

“What was that for?” you asked, puzzled, once Clint set his books down. George looked at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. “For your information, I’m here to make sure you don’t end up boiling up again, with her around,” he said, pointing quickly at Umbridge, then ruffled your hair.

You had no energy to argue, so you looked at him dazed for a couple seconds more. “Sorry,” he added quietly, fixing a few strands of hair he messed up on top of your head.

—————④—————

“Wait, is it the musty old shack at the end of one of the side roads?” Lee asked, shoving a bag full of Zonko’s merch in his backpack.

You had just finished shopping with the boys and the four of you were headed to the Hog’s Head Inn. Fred and George had a rough idea of where the pub could be but you were the only one who knew the location.

“I think, isn’t it?” said Fred, before you could answer. “Oooh I know now, the place where the owner has the goat..!” Lee exclaimed like it was the most exciting piece of information in the world, but that was just his talent. “The goat?” George questioned, puzzled, walking with his hands in his pockets. “I mean, a goat. But I heard the guy l e g i t has a goat in there. Like, as a pet,” Lee went on, “or maybe..? Do you think he..?” he trailed off with a suggestive facial expression, making the twins laugh.

“Ugh, stop right there,” you halted their train of thought with disgust written on your face, trying not to picture it. “But yes, that is the place. Reckon we’re gonna need something less crowded... Dodgier.”

You were the last people to join in. After everyone had a butterbeer in hand, they gathered round in front of Harry and you settled in a chair next to Fred and George. The crowd was versatile, mostly 5th years, with a few younger and older people.

Hermione was the one that started talking and then the conversation rolled around the topic of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Although you were quite skilled in that department, wanting to be an Auror, there were always things you could learn or practice, or maybe even help some others.

They started arguing about Harry’s accomplishments. He spoke about how difficult it was, you hadn’t expected to be so moved but when he spoke about being near losing a friend or really losing one, the reality hit you properly. It got you thinking about what if, as you looked at a pair of hands scrunching up a beanie to your right. What if you lost George?

Coming to Hogwarts, you weren’t one of the most confident kids. You got sorted into Gryffindor and naturally got somewhat close to other Gryffindors in your year. George and Fred were wild from day one. They were easy-going and somehow always managed to make you feel comfortable. By the end of your first year, you’d already considered them your proper friends.

It was always easier with George. Although you’d also trust Fred with everything and in return, you could kill for him, you’d always go to George first. So it became not only Fred, George and Y/N but also George and Y/N.

George was always there and understood. With George, you could communicate without words. He always had the right thing to say when you needed him most, and where words were unnecessary or ineffective, he knew the right thing to do. All that on top of being an all-around great guy.

You were always each other’s biggest support, and over the years developed some shared interests. You could still remember the time you discovered your shared love for one particular book series and how it became so special.

It was in your second year that you mentioned reading it. You had just been rereading the second tome right before the third was about to come out. George shared that he loved the books too, but Fred found the plot boring and overcomplicated. When the third tome came out, you both rushed with your pocket money to buy it and raced each other who could read it faster. You had so much fun with it and sharing your thoughts, you couldn’t wait until the continuation would come out. Next year, however, when the book was about to be released, George was really sheepish about it. After many attempts, you managed to learn that with George’s younger brother starting school, his parents didn’t have enough money for him to buy the book. So you did, and you read it together – that’s how the tradition started. As the series was continued, no matter which one of you paid for the book, you’d always read it together. Over the years you forgot about the money aspect of it – you just loved spending hours upon hours with your best friend, engrossed in your favourite story. Sharing the experience with George made it that much more amusing, memorable and so, so special.

So after all that, what would happen if he was gone one day?

“That’s not what he said,” you were pulled out of your thoughts by Fred’s voice when he snarled at Zacharias Smith. George pulled some long, metal object out of his Zonko’s bag, “Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?” he inquired. “Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this,” added Fred.

A wide grin appeared on your face and you started blinking away some tears you hadn’t even noticed were about to appear a moment before. You looked down at your feet, not wanting George to notice that, but you still smiled to yourself.

You were proud to call those two your friends.

—————④—————

The following Monday, walking to breakfast with your roommates you noticed a giant notice on the board in the common room. The sign declared all student organizations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs disbanded. This new information took a turn on everyone, you spent a long time trying to help Angelina calm down as it meant their quidditch team as well. The great hall was filled with buzz that morning and the Dumbledore’s Army stood in question. Everyone decided to stick to the plan, though, so you did.

Over the next few days Fred and George some massive boils as a result of their unfinished formula for Fever Fudge. It proved a great joking material for you, up until Fred threatened to show them to you if you didn’t stop. Angelina also managed to get permission to reform their quidditch team, meaning your friends would spend a lot of time on the pitch now, with 3 weeks until the first match of the season.

—————④—————

“Well,” said Harry, slightly nervously. “This is the place we’ve found for practices, and you’ve — er — obviously found it okay —” “It’s fantastic!” said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement. “It’s bizarre,” said Fred, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…”

“A room that gives you whatever you need, whenever you need it? That would’ve come in handy,” you exclaimed, looking around once again. “Yeah, for you, I bet. More spacious than a broom cupboard, isn’t it?” Fred teased you with a shit-eating grin. You immediately reached your foot, over a puzzled looking George, to kick him. Fred wasn’t talking about anything that actually happened but you felt a bit embarrassed nonetheless.

Your first practice session felt very odd, but also fun. You practised the disarming charm, and you partnered up with Neville. He even managed to disarm you a couple of times.

—————④—————

The morning of the match, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, you separated from Fred and George with a kick in the butt for good luck and headed to find the best seat.

The game was dynamic and it turned really aggressive – as most games against Slytherin did. This time, however, they developed a song ‘Weasley is our King’ to get into the team’s, and especially Ron’s, minds. It drove everyone even more.

You were at the edge of your seat and didn’t know where to look. You clutched the ends of your Gryffindor scarf tightly, biting your lip constantly and your gaze alternated between keeping track of the quaffle and following George around. He was doing brilliantly, as always.

The game ended suddenly, Harry caught the snitch and Gryffindor won. Your happiness was mixed with concern as you saw him get hit square in the back by a bludger the moment he caught the snitch. You made your way down to see if he was alright and congratulate your friends.

When you finally reached the pitch your stomach immediately sank and you knew something was wrong. The air felt thick. It was just the two teams on the grass and everyone looked on edge, Fred and George stood stiff.

You heard Malfoy say something indistinctly to you and the twins were about to jump on him, being held down by the rest of the team.

You continued walking towards them but George didn’t see you, he was too focused on Malfoy talking about his family. His jaw was clenched and his whole body tense, shoulders straight – he seemed even taller and bigger than usual.

But the moment Malfoy mentioned Harry’s parents, he let go of George and the both of them tackled Draco. You froze in spot, not knowing what to do. You were scared for George, not wanting him to get hurt or get in trouble, but you couldn’t deny Malfoy deserved it and seeing George land punch after a punch on the prat was scary but satisfying. Seeing him stand up for his family and a friend was also something completely else, which you wouldn’t admit to yourself.

—————④—————

You closed the door to George’s dorm. Fred was out somewhere, blowing some steam off and none of the team members was in the mood to celebrate tonight after three great players got a lifetime ban.

George had showered and changed, he lay sprawled out across the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm.

You put down the few things you brought, that could help with the cut and swelling on his lip, on the bedside table and sat down next to him.

“Can you sit up?” you instructed quietly, with a soft voice. You felt so bad for him and couldn’t imagine how bad he must’ve felt. And you knew he was angry, still.

He took a deep breath after a few seconds, then sat up. Both his hands were now clutching the bed tightly and he stared straight ahead, he avoided looking you in the eye.

You soaked a cotton swab and squeezed the excess, then turned back to him and moved a bit closer, so that your work was easier, and your thighs were touching now. You placed one of your hands on his jaw to hold his head in place. You made a mental note to yourself now was not the time to point out it was time to shave. You started dabbing silently and George winced quietly at the first touch.

“Did he mean that..?” you asked after a minute or so, barely audible. “What?” George mumbled and you put the swab away. “Is it true..? That quidditch was the only thing keeping you here?” you paused to take a deeper breath, “are you going to just leave now?”

George shifted on the bed and looked away, showing signs of irritation, then looked down at his hands, fiddling in his lap. His features softened, he rested elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands, sighing deeply.

His silence disturbed you, and you also shifted, turning to face him.

“Maybe for Fred. We talked about this for a bit, but… Yes, you do make this shit-hole bearable.” “…but?” “But if we’re talking school-specific? Nothing. You know we don’t need to sit here. We have the money, we could start up the shop and start doing real things,” he looked at you, “Y/N, we’re friends outside of school, if I left, I wouldn’t just vanish out of your life. And you’d do fine without me here.” “Yeah, just peachy, George!” You huffed, “it’s 8 months! Eight whole-fucking-months, the year has barely started.” “Relax, I didn’t say we’re leaving.” You relaxed a bit, slouching. “There’s still a bit more testing we could do here, and also the D.A. stuff...” He added.

You were quiet for a bit, both avoiding each other’s eyes.

“Are you upset I beat Malfoy up?” George asked, slightly subdued This surprised you slightly. “No, I’m not. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, considering the consequences,” you waved your hands around and shrugged your shoulders, “but also, the prat deserved it. Annd it was nice to see you in action,” you said with a chuckle and a faint smile appeared on his face with a raised brow, “good to know what you’re capable of, if needed.”

He tried his best to hold back the grin, but couldn’t, “capable, huh?” he questioned. You blushed, because you didn’t mean to make it sound suggestive, and you were about to start explaining yourself when he tackled you, tickling your sides.

All your attempts to defend yourself, attack him back or get out of his grasp were pointless.

You had to just let go and surrender.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley series

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