#but it still like. affects my productivity and shit
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you'll never guess what people are doing in the silent section of the library
#Guy Do You Not Read The Signs In Here Or Something#ive already had to move once and im about to again. cannot stress enough that there's 3 floors where talking is allowed#they rventually left only to be replaced by a custodial worker talking on the phone#and normally i am all for workers doing whatever to make things less boring for them but guys pls#have mercy on me. not on the silent floor. thats the whole point is ppl are working y'know#idk is that selfish of me? again i wouldn't care in basically any other setting/context#and im more ok with it than ppl just. chatting it up instead of moving to Literally Anywhere Else Where That Is Cool#but it still like. affects my productivity and shit#hour 4 of being here and instance 4 of ppl talking for prolonged periods in the explicitly labeled everywhere silent zone :/#i don't think im asking for much here#gotta clarify that im not counting brief exchanges or people whispering on their way out#they're a little annoying but i get it yk#i mean like 5+ minutes straight of speaking-level convo. no reason to be talking that long up here#minus the custodial staff but thats kinda different
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Something that really sets Wille and Simon apart from other queer ships is that when we say their love language is physical touch, IT REALLY IS PHYSICAL TOUCH. And Iâm not speaking of just sex. Over the course of the show, the amount of touching between them is astronomical. And thatâs really something rarely seen in queer media. There may be moments here or there, but often times thereâs a lack of physical contact unless itâs for âthe plotâ. Wille and Simon feel like a real couple in the way theyâre always physically reaching out for each other.
#wilmon#young royals#OH ALSO#wtfock#sobbe#cuz they def belong in this category too#constant touching between them#but you donât get it with most queer ships and idk if itâs just bc production is afraid of it being âtoo muchâ or what#but itâs annoying#and frustrating#just something Iâve been pondering on recently#tv has come a long way in terms of representation#but it still feels like thereâs almost a FEAR of too much affection between queer pairings#itâs seen more with mlm than wlw cuz I think theyâre like oh well women are more physically affectionate in general even with friends#but damn like#I mean Iâm a woman and bisexual so obv I have a lot of queer friends#and a couple of my besties are gay men who have been married for years#fun thing they live right next door to my parents lol#and Iâve known one half (michael) since I was 16 and he was 14 lol my friend jen actually had a big crush on him#and I was like GIRL#BUT ANYWAY#he and rick have been married for many years and theyâre SO AFFECTIONATE in a casual way that you would be with a partner#just touches here and there on the shoulder or hand hold or kisses like???#obviously they arenât the only gay couple I know but Iâm around them so much so they are a good example#Lol this got weirdly personal but the point is that we donât see that shit in queer media#at least not enough of it itâs like producers/writers are afraid of âtoo muchâ#so they give not enough#ANYWAYYYY rant over!!!
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...i think i have an internet addiction sort of problem
#it's 2 am from where i am#i'm the only one in my household still awake#am i'm STILL WORKING ON MY ASSIGNMENT#LIKE HOW WAS I NOT ABLE TO DO A LOT OF IT EARLIER IN THE AFTERNOON???#AND WHY *NOW* OF ALL TIMES DO I GET TO BE PRODUCTIVE IN THIS SHIT?????#WHYYYYYYY???????????????#it's only fitting that the topic of the article i have to read is abt internet addiction and its effects#and oh boi is it affecting me alrightâ#the meaningful jargon
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#day 4 on bupropion#i need to vent. bc today was mostly decent. cause at least i could control my emotions and not cry at every little thing#but ended just as badly as i was feeling yesterday. i feel rly sad rn#when im productive i feel great but when im trying to relax? i feel like i need to find something productive to do immediately.#its like i need to do everything but i have no desire to do anything#im like. lying in bed at 2 am grieving my hyperfixations hard. been crying for the past 3 hours#bc i just cant sit down and enjoy anything without feeling like im forcing myself. and i already miss feeling things when i play video game#idk if i can do the 4-6 weeks of this before side effects normalize. everyone says it gets better#and even that is making me feel guilty bc it took me this long to get help and i already want to quit on my first week#i have an appointment with my dr on friday but fuck. the last 3 nights have felt like weeks. its so hard falling asleep.#it really doesn't help that this med is making me. stupid. i have about 10 seconds worth of memory before the thought is deleted#literally forgetting what i'm talking about midway through a sentence#but hey. at least my memory is so bad i cant remember what i did today and overthink every action. i guess.#and maybe tmi. but my libido is gone... like completely nonexistent now#some people literally take this shit to help w a low libido!!! but for me it is doing the exact opposite!!! what is wrong with my body#and to top it off i can't drink even a half cup of coffee without panic attacks. i miss iced coffee already :(#cant enjoy shit anymore and my adhd feels 10 times worse than it did before bc i can't sit still to save my life.#anyway im yapping so much but i need to because im feeling so alone#some side affects im getting r common and manageable but some are pretty uncommon and its hard finding anyone who relates...
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Stuff in tags, don't want y'all to read an essay.
#nils talking#my cold is thankfully already going away which is nice#and I'm far less exhausted compared to Wednesday and yesterday#I also went on a nice walk with my dog today AND wrote two important emails#in addition to doing laundry#so today was relatively productive considering I currently have three things affecting me that are deserving of a sick note#anyway I also thought a bit about me joking yesterday about taking a week-long trip to the Dutch North Sea coast and honestly#yeah I still kinda wanna do that?#I wouldn't do it alone like if I did a âvacation to relax and not sightseeâ#I'd need good company#but alas... I doubt anyone would wanna do that with me semi-spontaneously?#but like... the idea of just spending a few days with a person I'm close to by the sea would be absolutely lovely#recently I made a post about me appreciating the idea of relationship anarchy a lot and yeah...#combine that with stuff I read about how relationships are formed and how neurodivergence affects that#PLUS the decrease of non-online dating-based relationships#I'm just thinking a lot about isolation and relationships and stuff#sorry for rambling I'm just tired and lonely and could use a break#who knows when I'll get one but it's also kinda difficult for me to plan shit
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#listen idk why some of yall insist on trying to submerge yourself w every crumb of content when you know the stunt is still going around#but also for letting even a potential stunt mention / pic / video frame affect you so much#considering they always push it more when they get any kind of reaction from it#like idk how many times we gotta say it but#1. make and create boundaries and if this is all your life is about: get another hobby oh my god that is so unhealthy#but also 2. STOP REACTING#donât let this shit get to you so bad and ruin your day like gooood this is why some of you#really NEED to rethink your approach to obsessively interacting w content#but also reevaluate your priorities#be kind to yourself like why do you think i stop following so many people who constantly post whatever they can for the sake of âupdatesâ#*stopped#and making conversation out of nothing. it ainât worth it !! go live your life !!#whether or not the fake kid is there why are you letting it bother you !! you know heâs gonna be w his love at the end of the day#talking about his baby nephew and their future family like if anything take delight in that and shhhh#itâs been like 6 - 7 years on off of this shit now so can some of you please stop acting like you were born yesterday already#and maybe idk react normally? maybe yk go do something else productive? actually worthy of energy#stunts#bbg#alex talks
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Omg yesterday at my moms therapy I said how well I had been doing and feeling like I can actually handle life and my mom was immediately like âthatâs because youâve been taking your meds regularly againâ and like completely brushed off any progress I had actually made and I had to be like yeah totally thatâs it thatâs why exactly when I havenât taken my meds for a week straight in idk how long
#I was like yup totally that sure is why Iâve been feeling good totally#not at all that Iâve been spending time to do things I like and journal and process my feelings in healthy ways or that I am consciously#making strides towards regular person sanity#and she fucking brought up adhd meds again like FUCK OFFFFFFF HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY I DONT WANT TO TAKE THEM BEFORE IT CLICKS#I. DONT. WANT. TO. TAKE. THEM. they are a tool in MY mental health toolbox bitch back off my toolbox I know you fucking live adhd meds and#wonât shut up about them but I am happy now and I donât like my brain on adhd meds and the only reason you want me on them is because you#like me more when Iâm doing stereotypically productive tasks so youâd rather have me cleaning the house and not doing the shit I love than#you would have me not taking my meds and making art and writing poetry#like god#she just doesnât fucking get it#I cannot create when I take adhd meds. that part of my brain just like dissolves.#the way I work is that constantly I have a million projects on the back burner in my mind and when I get inspired I make one#when I take my adhd meds I canât just pick up a fun project I donât get those ideas I canât write poetry I canât make art itâs like it sever#severs the line between my creative mind and my regular mind and I have nothing in my life that I need to be THAT focused on right now#but I have my perscruption still! like if I ever need it itâs there but thatâs not your fucking decision thatâs mine and you need to back#off my brain because it is a delicate fucking ecosystem up there in my head and Iâm not going to fuck with anything until I have to#god. sorry. went on a bit of a rant. I am just so sick of arguing over my mom wanting to control the way I medicate myself. I am an adult#and she is not inside my brain so she needs to listen when I tell her how things affect me#she takes adhd meds like twice every day and hates the feeling of not being on them but I just donât like them and she wonât fucking drop it#okay I am getting mad about adhd meds and my mother right before I have to be in the car with her all morning i need to relax#weâre going to psychic weâre gonna have fun#weâre not going to argue about this again.
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see this is why i always said i need to watch until at least ep 3
its always ep 3...
#ms#im so bored with everything i touch these days#i think im just tired af and not in the right mindset#in such a state#anything i would find exciting other times i just dont...#its not a true reflection u_u#even orb. while i said it caught my attention. its in a distant sorta way#still more than the bunch of things i tried engaging with#except blue lock ofc :)#cause such 'states' doesnt affect things that have alrdy gotten through the emotional filter slash barrier :)#are these called emotional anchors?#am i perhaps... a constructivist in socionics?#but also not?#bc if im i would gladly just stick to blue lock or any other things i've previously engaged with and liked#and not be trying to find new things#i wouldnt find rewatching shit a waste of time#i wouldnt only feel 'productive' if ive engaged with something i never did before#even if it ends up boring for me#overall more emotivist it seems...#or maybe bc Iâm fucking falling sick đ
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started post- sb you know what that means!! [insert repetitive & flawed 5 hour rant about the depiction of parents in ffxiv here]
#listen. listen.#the variety?#maddening#the thing fordola fights for in stormblood is the thing her father told her right before he died. she believes theres no other way#she believes the only way to freedom is through following the empire because thats what her father believed!#and she never learned otherwise because her father was fucking murdered!! she didnt trust anyone to tell her differently!!#hate it when people who come from stable households reduce parenting to loving + good and not loving + bad.#parents are also flawed human beings!! they fuck up!! their love isnt always a good thing!!#we are not exclusively a product of how we were raised but it does affect you. especially when youre younger and dont have the experience#outside of your family to fall back on. (at least thats what i assume im still in the young category)#parents can love their kids and still fuck up royally. parents can not care for their kids but still raise them right.#my mom loves me! she also gave me three separate mental disorders and refuses to accept my autism!#people keep asking why i refuse to get angry at ANYTHING out loud and its. its my mom. she made me like this#she made me afraid of speaking up or talking back to authority figures because shes a flawed person!#am i still gonna cut her off once im out of the house? YEAH. shes traumatised the living shit out of me! OUT OF LOVE.#are there parents who love their kids AND are good parents. probably. are there parents who hate their kids and abuse them. again. probably#but that doesnt cover every parent. those two separate ends of a whole damn spectrum#hhhghhg#its late im getting incoherent
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eddie doesnt let anyone touch his hair. ever.
it reminds him of his late mother, who had the same gorgeous untamed curls. She used to comb his hair when he was little, being ever so gentle and taking her time brushing out the knots.
his father made him feel less-than for just about everything about him, including his gorgeous mane. Called him awful names and always told him to âcut that fairy shitâ when it grew too long.
so, ever since she passed, and his father went to jail, hes been growing it.
unfortunately, she never taught him how to take care of it, sheâd always just do it herself. So, he doesnt put product in it, he doesnt cut it, he doesnt even brush it. And, stubborn as his mama, he doesnt let anyone else touch it either.
then you come along, happy and sweet, always loving to everyone. he falls in love with you so fast he hardly even notices. you certainly dont either.
one hot summer day youâre both in his room, you on his bed, him pacing, frantically explaining some sort of nerdy campaign idea. you dont know, you havent been listening for a while, too distracted by the way he keeps wiping sweat from the back of his neck. you cut him off rudely, he doesnt mind
âhey eddie?â
âsweetheart?â
âwhens the last time you got a haircut?â
he freezes, silent, which is very out of character, dude never shuts up.
âuhh. like a few years ago. why?â
its your turn to be quiet, suddenly all coy. he finds you absolutely adorable as you stare at his floor, trying to find a way to ask him without startling him. as if he were some wild animal, which, he basically is.
âjust.. immm noticinggg its kinda matted in the backâŠâ
you try to sound the least accusing as you can. he doesnt seem offended but you can tell hes thinking.
âwell, yeah, i. i guess i just havent touched it since. well my mom used to do it for meâ
you feel like an ass, touching on something you shouldnt have, making him all quiet and sad. you backtrack.
âjesus, eddie, im sorry i didnt mean to-â
âits okay angel, i knowâ
he sits next to you. you give him a nervous smile, still sweet, hesitantly reaching for his curls. you can tell heâs hesitant too, but he nods, granting you permission. you take a single strand between your fingers, twirling it.
âIts so pretty, eds. ..would you let me? take care of it, i mean?â
hes scared. but youre so sweet and youre asking so nicely. a part of him is scared if he lets you, he loses another part of his mom. but the other part is staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but genuine affection.
âi.. i guess you could.. try.â
his heart pounds in his chest. You absolutely beam, thanking him immediately and bouncing around the room, looking for a brush. he laughs, shaking his head. you watch as he rummages through his closet, before handing you a light pink brush. you think about teasing him for it but he already looks vulnerable. you smile sweetly instead, taking it from him.
âsitâ you point with the brush. he does as you say, running his hands up and down his thighs in a self soothing motion.
âits okay eds, you dont have to be nervous.. ill be gentle i promiseâ he gives you an unconvincing smile. you return with a guilty one, downturned. you kneel in front of him, in between his knees, brushing his bangs with your fingers.
âwe can stop whenever you want, okay?â his cheeks are bright red as he nods timidly
you move to sit behind him, and run your hands through his curls gently, admiring it. you take a part, hold it at the root, and brush gently.
âthat feel okay? tell me if it hurtsâ ever so sweet.
âmm-hmâ you can feel his nervousness. âyou- you remind me of her, yâknowâ
youre pretty taken aback, but honoured nonetheless. you keep brushing through the mattes in his hair as you talk.
âYeah? Wanna tell be about her?â youre not sure if its the right thing to say, but you figure he probably hasnt talked about her in a long time. you can practically feel his energy shift.
âshe was sweet. loving and kind to everyone, like you.â you both smile. âand she was pretty. beautiful. i really miss her.â you stop, rub his back a little.
âi can only imagine.. im sorry eddie.â he turns to face you, smiling.
âsâalright sweetheart. thanks for letting me talk about herâ he hugs you. you hug him back, tight.
âhows the ole hair going?â He asks when he pulls back, a joking tone to lighten the mood.
âgood!!! ive gotten the mattes outta this chunk here, it looks good. your hair is really beautiful, edsâ youre ecstatic and it travels to him.
âthank you. my mom had the same hair.â he smiles, turning back around to let you continue.
âi bet she was really gorgeous.â youre extra-extra gentle. He keeps talking and you keep working. He tells you about how she smelled, the softness of her voice, his favourite memories with her. he tells you about the last time he saw her. he tells you all the things hes been holding inside, everything he never got to tell anyone, never trusted anyone enough. and when hes done, his hair is untangled and soft.
you smile proudly, running your hands through his hair, marveling at your work.
âits doneâ he whips around, looking at you with wide excited eyes
âreally??â you nod, smiling wide. he runs over to the bathroom to see for himself. You stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder in the mirror. Hes surprised, looks like he might even cry. you wrap your arms around him, leaning your head against his arm.
âdo you like it? Its a little poofy, but you can wash it out and itâll look be-â he cuts you off by turning around and hugging you. he hugs you tight, lifting you up.
âthank you.â you can tell he really means it.
#my fics#eddie munson x female reader#eddie the freak munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x gn!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#my fic#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson fluff#eddie my love <3#my writing
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đđđąđ« đđđ«đ âĄ
Summary: Taking care of your touch starved boyfriend proves to be more difficult than you initially thought...
Warnings: Established Relationship, Sickeningly sweet Fluff, Heated Making Out, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), Touch Starved!Wonbin, Groping, Dirty Talk, Choking, Daddy Kink, Slight!DDLG, Praise Kink, Fingering
Literally no one asked. But I just had to write something sweet and domestic
A melody that is equal parts romantic, equal parts horrifically tragic bleeds from the strings being coaxed by Wonbin's long fingers. You watch dreamily as he plays you a tune, while you both lay utterly defeated on the couch.
The Friday night lights scattered around the city, bleed in through the cracks in the curtain and your entire front is warmed by Wonbin's back. Your eyes had fluttered closed sometime in between his playing and so you would never know that his eyes were trained on you, as his head rested backwards and his fingers played away.
âWhy are you always playing me some Orwellian shit?â You attempt to sound annoyed.
Your eyes are still closed but a light chuckle reaches your ears and you smile, satisfied. Wonbin peers down at his fingers, mindlessly dancing ober the cords as he says,âI think it was supposed to be romantic,â His voice is like gravel and thunder and your stomach warms inside you.
âAlmost as romantic as two teenagers killing themselves for one another.â Your eyes flutter open as your fingers find their way at the tips of Wonbin's messy hair, âWould you die for me, Binnie?â his answer is grim in its intensity and instancy,
âDie? Probably not. But I would probably attempt to hurt someone very, very badly for you,â his gaze is still lowered to his strumming as he softly says, ânot just physically, but there's plenty of other ways to hurt someone. I'd probably do that, instead of actually dying for you.â
You were forced to get accustomed to Wonbin's morbidity because it almost came as a by-product of his various other terrific attributes. He speaks with a near constant air of grimness that makes your irrational heart swell.
He continues his morose little tune until you cut him off quite abruptly, quite rudely when you say:
"When was the last time you did some hair care?"
That had probably been the very last question he expected to hear (and perhaps maybe even wanted to hear) so early into a rainy Friday evening. His limbs were laden with post-performance exhaustion and all he wished to do, was continue laying between your legs, his head cushioned by your breasts. He was in absolute bliss with your hand patting down his head nearly coaxing him into an early slumber.
It was the perfect way to end a stressful day, until you invariably decided to choose violence.
Wonbin cranes his head back slightly and he narrows his sleepy eyes as he groans out, "Is this your characteristically nice way of telling me my hair looks bad?"
You try to coax his head back down onto your chest, and he steadily complies as you try to pepper him with reassurances, "This is my characteristically nice way of telling you that you need some hair care."
And he concedes, almost immediately with a daft little shrug. He's not sure if it's the affect of the softness of your chest pillowing his cheek or the softness of your body underneath him but Wonbin chooses to see this as the universe gifting him with the possibility of being seated between your thighs while you weave your fingers through his hair to your heart's content.
The thought effects him in ways he did not anticipate and soon, he is turning his face into your chest and nuzzling into the cleavage. "When do we start?"
An obnoxious, borderline unladylike laugh pushes its way through youre throat as you try to shrug the boy off of your chest but to no avail. Wonbin's kisses along your cleavage are unrelenting and you release a breathless little chuckle. "I proposed that we do your hair-" You finally succeed in pushing his head back, "Not that you end up inside of me on the damn couch."
"Why can't you do my hairâŠâ Wonbin turns to ease his fingers along the waistband of your sweats, â...After you let me inside.â He continues to splay wet, needy kisses along your chest.
While he distracts himself, you inconspicuously hook your fingers into the hair tie securing his raven hair back and you pull, letting his hair fall like a across his face while he continues to assault your skin with hickies. You're momentarily stunned by the sheer length of Wonbin's hair as he continues to lap hungrily at your skin, deciding to stretch his bravery and let his hand crawl up under your loose shirt.
"Your hair is so pretty, Binnie,"
"Your everything is so pretty, baby," He groans and you can tell from the low panting in his voice and the hand skimming the underside of your breasts that he is getting himself worked up.
While Wonbin shifts his weight on top of you so that he begins to straddle you, you're very alarmed but not surprised to find him already completely hard.
A very familiar, very distracting bulge pushing against your thigh brings you back to earth.
"I need to fuck you now," He affirms robotically with a curt nod of his head of hair spilling around his face.
"Down boy,â you shoot out a hand against his chest. Keeping him at arm's length. âWe need to wash it now,"
"I need to fuck you now,"
"You're insatiable today,"
"You say this as if it's something new."
"Fair enough," you murmer, letting your head fall on the armrest as you watch your boyfriend seated above. His bushy eyebrows scrunch up until he's racking his fingers through his hair, attempting to detangle the web of raven locks and failing horribly.
"Hurry up, so I can tie this back up," he grumbles in apparent vexation. "I hate having it like this." You throw your head back as you wrestle to wriggle yourself up from underneath him but he stays put.
"Afterwards, you let me give you the most mind blowing orgasm you've ever had,"
"Afterwards," you grumbled back, using his distraction to knock his balance of kilter, "-you let me put some of my hair clips in."
He had been a grumbling, moody mess throughout the entire process. Washing his hair in the bathroom sink while Wonbin sat on a stool had been a nightmare filled with you having to swat away at Wonbin's hand whenever it got too bold and decided to attack you while you were hovering over him, letting the water wash the suds away. You were pleasantly surprised by just how much you were enjoying running your fingers through his scalp, stirring up the shampoo until it created a halo of bubbles on his head, all while you were humming steadily to his latest song.
"You're very pretty," Wonbin said suddenly as you proceeded to towel down his hair. Your heart squeezed with adoration inside its cage.
"You're very pretty, too."
Your reply released a whirlwind of butterflies scattering inside his stomach, threatening to climb out his oesophagus and spill out of his mouth. The exchange was perhaps so tender it almost felt unreal.
His eyes, as dark as they are, as endless as they are, bore into yours. You're still hovering above him, but the towel falls gently to the floor, and soon, you're being pulled into that spindly web that was the force of Wonbin's entire freaking aura and you're leaning in close.
âI have to finish up.â It comes out as a whisper.
You immediately know when your eyes flit down to his lips, thay you're already too far gone.
âWhy are you leaning in then?â He whispers back with a lazy smirk spilling across his lips.
âBecause you're making me,â whispering is all you're both able to do, in fear of shattering this incredibly charged energy between you.
âAm I?â He asks with a slight tilt of his head with his own eyes now staring up at your lips. He is feeling less apologetic for his unsavoury thoughts because Wonbin's has been forced to endure all of 5 minutes of you scrubbing at his hair, while your breast pushed right against his face.
Apologetic is the last thing he feels right now.
âYou're a fucking tease,â he breathes out. And his large hand is slithering up the back of your neck until your lips are crashing onto his with a surprised yelp.
As your lips move in tandem with one another, Wonbin's hand never leaves your neck. Instead, he chooses to prolong the kiss by breaking away in short intervals. Never straying too far.
Wonbin's mouth is all encompassing. He slithers his tongue in almost conspiratorially and you gasp at the sudden yet swift intrusion. Both your tongues meet in a fiery, borderline barbaric kiss and you swear on everything you love that you could cum off of making out with him alone.
How utterly embarrassing that would be.
When the faintest moan slips out of your mouth Wonbin abandons all other inhibitions. He rises from the chair like lightning and you nearly roll backwards from the sheer size of him.
His heavy shoulders are bent down to keep your lips locked against his as he pushes you against the sink. With one more kiss, Wonbin spins you around until your front is facing the foggy mirror, and his front is pressed against your back.
He leans his head down, pressing his lips to your ear as he says, âAre you gonna let me in now?â His fingers slide against the waistband of your sweats and you immediately know what he means.
A wanton sound bleeds from your chest and you push your ass backwards, pressing it against the bulge in his sweats.
Wonbin's other hand finds the front of your throat as he cranes your neck backwards.
âYou gonna be good for me, Princess?â He asks in a vaguely condescending manner as he juts his bottom lip out and gazes down at you, mirroring your pained, wanton expression.
âYou finally ready to be a good little girl, huh?â
You couldn't stand his infuriating teasing any longer and so you make the daring decision to push your own hand into the front of your sweats- or perhaps you try to. Wonbin's hand locks around your wrist and squeezes until you're wincing in pain. His gaze is unfazed as he releases the grip on your wrist and pushes his own hand down your pants.
âYou're so fucking stupid sometimes, Angel.â His words run like rain on the forest floor and your eyes flutter shut when his fingers push past your drenched underwear.
âYou're fucking soaked, baby,â He croaks, keeping his nose nuzzled in your neck as he swipes his fingers along your folds. Wonbin soon loses himself the movements of his own fingers, until his bucking against your ass while muttering dirty nothings into your ear in a dizzying amalgamation.
âM-More, please-â
That immediately rouses him from his pleasure filled state. Wonbin blinks away the pleasure and straightens his slightly hunched frame.
âYou want my cock inside you baby?â His eyes are trained on the side of your face while swiping his hands across the mirror so you could see the mess he's already made of you.
Your lips hang open and Wonbin's damp hair falls over his face as he towers over you.
âMy good girl wants me inside of her so badly,â he whispers, almost robotically, as if he were chanting the words to himself as he pushes his hand in his sweats. As he begins to fist his aching cock Wonbin lazily brings his hooded eyes up to your reflection and you both watch each other through the mirror.
He looks so incredibly hungry and so you do nothing but comply as he places a hand on your lower back, forcing you over the sink.
âYou're gonna be good for me?â He looks visibly pained when you nod slowly before allowing him to pull your sweats down enough to accommodate his cock at your centre.
âTell me you'll be good,â his voice shook with the force of his own arousal and you could tell, from his voice alone, that he was already slipping into domspace.
âI'll be goo- fuck!â He's already easing to you with little to no preparation and from his shallow thrusts alone, you can tell how needy he is.
âAh-fuck, you're so tightâŠâ
Wonbin loses himself in the warmth of your cunt. He paws at your breasts, his fingers tweaking your nipples as he cock fucks you deeper and deeper. He breathes heavily as he pulls the hem of his shirt up, dead set on watching his cock disappear inside your wet folds.
And you watch in the mirror: his flat stomach glistening and moving in tandem with his needy thrusts while his hand swipes obliviously away at his bangs.
âF-Fuck you feel so good- You feel so fucking good, baby,â
You're clenching around him in the wake of his endless praise and your moans are amplified inside the bathroom.
âF-Fuck- Binnie-â
âBinnie?â He pants out with his fingers latching onto your hips, pulling you back to meet his furious thrusts, âWho the fuck's âBinnieâ?â
You squeeze your eyes shut and your arms grow particularly weak when Wonbin hits that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. You're so completely cock drunk but Wonbin holds your weakening frame up with his hand around your throat.
Wonbin's lips tickle your ear as he says, âYou wanna call me Daddy, don't you?â
You're absolutely fargone, and you're muttering incoherently while he uses you. In a moment like this, you would say yes to damn near anything.
âIt's too m-much, Daddy,â
He's shaking his head, big eyes boring into yours as he tuts in a faux baby voice, âIt's just the right amount, baby,â His thrusts grow irregular as he gazes down at your fucked out expression, âDaddy's fucking you just right, isn't he Princess-â
âDaddy, I'm gonna-â
âIt's okay, Baby,â His melodic voice succeeds in bringing you to the crevice of your orgasm and melt into him, âYou're listening so well, aren't you?â His voice cracks as he spills his seed inside of you, âS-So fucking good.â Wonbin buries his face in the crook of your neck as he shoots his cum inside of you. The hand on your neck never eases away and you're still caught in throes of pleasure when he splayed multiple drunken kisses against the side of your head
âGod you're such a good girl.â He whispers before splaying one final kiss to the back of your head.
You would always be terrified that one day, you would wake up and realise that this big hearted raven haired boy had been a fragment of your imagination.
Nothing but a dream.
A really, really good dream.
That thought, no matter how irrational, never left you without a wave of unease.
"Now I need to brush your hair,"
<3
© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost
#park wonbin x reader#wonbin x reader#wonbin fluff#wonbin#riize#riize x reader#riize imagines#riize smut#wonbin smut
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hey how are youu? Iâm new here and Iâm completely in love with your work especially with the Bartyâs ones! I wanted to request the prompt c 11 (you are okay) with the 4 (near death experience) and if you could make it like part of the series of where they bicker all the time it would be perfect! Anyways I really enjoy your writing and I love how you portray my man Bartyđ€đ«¶đŒ
hi there lovey! thank you so much for being here and for your sweet words<33 i combined this request with another i received, i hope that is okay
other request: i headcanon barty as a person who has attachment issues (on the ambivalent side), in the way he loves too much his friends and lovers but at the same time is afraid of intimacy bc he also struggles with showing affection in a non sexual way. so my idea is that (gn)reader and barty have an argument because of their insecurities about trust and commitment, but AFTER they've been avoiding the conversation for too long. it could end very much extremely bad or very good.
you can find the other fics for this specific au here and here
Prompts: C.11 "You're okay, you're okay" & 4. Near Death Experience
Words: 6k
Warnings: not proofread, gn!reader (no pronouns used), use of y/n, reader and barty both have mental breakdowns/spirals, attachment issues, miscommunication, "oh shit! love is scary but i do love you so what now" moments, near-fall on the ice, potions accident, choking in a non-sexual way, infirmary, language, talk of death, injured!reader, heavy hurt but heavy comfort, happy ending
this isn't fun anymore
Your relationship with Barty thus far had been interesting to say the least.
After endless bickering led to an impromptu kiss to shut him up in the library, which in turn led to a heavy make-out session in a nearby cot, which led to a âhow does it feel to be my girlfriend?â âI wouldnât knowâ âdo you want to?â âsureâ conversation in the Slytherin common room, you somehow wound up being in an established, committed relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior.
To your friendsâ flabbergasted shock, and, quite frankly, your own surprise.
Even more surprisingly so, you loved it â which scared you to no end.
As the weeks began to stretch into months, you felt as if you were losing your footing more and more in your dynamic. What was once flirtatious and intense has now become almost intimate and close. It stills you in your movements as you try and find your bearing.
Who are you to Barty when you are not in the mood to quip? Or even talk at all? Who is Barty to you when you allow him to just be Barty and not sparring-partner Junior?
All good questions to ask oneself, but not as productive to spiral over as you walk with him from Hogsmeade, a little stretch behind your boisterous friends.
There are two reasons for this. One is that Barty has somehow learned to read your emotions fairly well despite your inability to communicate them effectively, and he is now scrutinising your distracted facial expressions. Second, and perhaps most importantly, is that it is winter in Scotland.
In your distracting spiral, you step on a snow that covered a perfectly polished sliver of ice, and your foot slips out from underneath you.
You barely managed to squeak out a shriek, scrambling to retract your hand from Bartyâs to catch you as you fall, before one of his hands is around your waist and the other on the back of your neck, stabilising your neck. His wild eyes stare into yours, mild panic seeping away to make place for a wicked grin.
âCareful, Treasure. Falling for me already?â
You roll your eyes before you let out a breath of relief, hands clutching onto his form as he is still holding you up in his grasp.
âYou wish, Junior,â you scoff at him, albeit with a smile.
âEvery night, on every star.â
You let him place you onto your legs, arm circling around your waist as a remaining layer of protection. You shiver, brushing off imaginary pieces of snow from the fall that did not occur. In front of you, your shared friends had stopped upon hearing you yell.
âY/N, you good?â Lily called, concern etched onto her face.
At the same time, Sirius, ever the supportive friend, yelled, âDid Barty finally kill you?â
âOh yes, Big Black, I am incredibly dead,â you yell back as Barty roll his eyes at you both and mutters something about on the contrary.
Regulus, in turn, says something you canât quite catch over the distance, but you suppose it has something to do with your nickname for Sirius and its insinuations. Little Black did not enjoy being referred to as such.
The group waits up for the two of you to catch up, Barty enjoying taking his time with a lazy stroll.
âYou mind picking up the pace, Junior?â Sirius grumbles.
Unfortunately, that only further encourages Barty. âWhy would I? Got a pretty damsel in distress on my arm and all the time in the world.âÂ
You try and rip out of his arms at that, feigning offence at him, but he only holds you tighter. âHow dare you. I am neither a damsel nor in distressââ
He cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips. âYou are pretty though. Sorry, Treasure, had to shut the sod up somehow.â
You turn your head away from him with a shake, trying your hardest not to blush at his words or his actions. You bully Regulus too much for his blushing to commit such atrocities yourself. âWhatever you say, Junior, but youâre sleeping on the couch tonight.â
âYou donât even live together,â Remus comments amusedly.
âDoesnât matter; the sentiment still stands.â
James and Remus shake their heads at the two of you, while Sirius and Lily nod solemnly in support of you. The whole lot begins walking back the short distance to the castle.
Barty makes a comment of some sort to Regulus that both Black brothers and James quip back at, which starts another tireless spat. You are too zoned out to care what they are bickering about today, disappearing back into your thoughts recklessly, despite the dire consequences from last time.
Attachment issues was such a loaded term, you thought, and you didnât like to think of yourself like that. Yet the fact remained that the longer you and Barty spent together, the more a part of your brain begins dry heaving and screaming. What began as pure fun, tingles along your spine at every back-and-forth, is becoming realer by the minute, and it terrifies you. Not because you cannot stand a relationship or fear being bound down â because you are starting to care for him. Genuinely, wholly, in a way that aches. You have always been one to shy away from emotional aches, and the fact that you now have to decide whether to withstand it or throw it away for another type of pain makes you lightheaded.
With his arm so securely around yours, with his laughter in your ear, you feel right. You feel content and whole. Why should that make sirens go off in your head?
Most of the time you spend with Barty is with others around, where you canât fully access your emotions. In the Great Hall, if you eat by yourselves, everyone else is still there, when you walk the hallways or the grounds, there are always students and professors around. Even when you visit his dorm, which is becoming more frequent by the second, Evan and Regulus usually arenât far. You almost wanted to keep it this way, ensure that Barty only sees the fun and open side of you, keeping everything else under lock and key. You almost avoid him when you are able to be alone just the two of you, because the implications are too vast for you to face them.
He has to know. He has to have seen. Have noticed that you keep pushing one front of you towards him and shielding the rest â and it seems like he enjoys that one, but at some point he must want more. Could you give it to him?
âOkay, whatâs going on in that head of yours?â Bartyâs whisper cuts through your thoughts as you step through the entrances to the castle, once more slightly secluded at the back of the group.
You merely hum in response, trying to pull yourself out of your spiral to look at him.
âCâmon, Treasure.â His drawl is teasing, but his eyes seem darker than usual. âYou have never gone this long without insulting me somehow. What's up?â
âMaybe youâve just been on your best behaviour today,â you say conspiratorially, putting on your mask expertly. âHavenât needed to.â
âNow see, that is simply empirically wrong,â Barty guffaws at you. âDid you hear what I said to Reg earlier?â His raised eyebrow is giving you a silent cut the crap that you arenât ready to face.
âIâll be honest with you; I did not.â You look away, pulling your jacket further around you. âIâm just mentally preparing for Potions and Slughorn tomorrow, he said we should expect something big.â
âShould I be concerned that lying comes that easily to my girlfriend?â Barty asks, making you whip your head back to him. He is still teasing, but you really, really donât like the look in his eyes.
âShould I be concerned that my boyfriend canât take the hint to let something be?â You didnât think about the words before you let them tumble, instantly getting defensive.
âNo,â Barty says, stopping you with the hand on your waist, looking directly at you. ââCause Iâm just checking on you when something is clearly wrong.â
âSince when do you check on me?â you say, realising your voice is uncomfortably close to a snarl. Barty does, too.
âSince you decided to take me up on my relentless flirting and enter into a relationship with me. You know, the kind where people care for and look after each other? Or is that not us?â
You stare at him for a second, as it uncomfortably settles into your bones that the odd look in his eyes is hurt. Confusion, concern and hurt. Youâre at a loss for words.
âI donât know what to say to that,â you settle on, feeling dumb but stubborn.Â
Barty nods, looking away at last, small frown over his lips. âWell. Let me know when you do. Or donât, you know, itâs whatever.â
He walks away from you, leaving you to stand alone, looking after him. If your friends realised youâre gone, they have likely assumed that the two of you are in some hallway together making-out. No one would come check up on you.
You trek back and sit down, just outside the entrance to the castle, trying to understand what just happened. Sliding down the wall, you watch as new snow begins to fall, large wet chunks flying through the air. You let them symbolically represent your tears as you keep bottling it all up.
That night, you go to your dorm in silence, telling yourself youâre thankful not to see Barty on the way there. You fall asleep watching the door.
Truth is, you had also been stressed out regarding Slughornâs Potions class for the day after. As you wake and get ready, anxiety rages through your body for more reasons than one. He had been teasing the class for weeks, saying that you would be brewing some dangerous, difficult potion, allowed into the curriculum as a one-time exception for him.
Technically, this would have been no problem, however you are currently paired with McLaggen in Potions. The biggest twat I have ever seen, as Barty described him. While you didnât have as intense feelings about him, you knew one thing for certain: the boy was absolute shit at potions.
The kind of awful that you really donât want to be paired with for some exotic and dangerous potion.
Potions was one of the few classes you and Barty had together as your subject selections were relatively different. He would always walk you from your dorm, first class in the morning, soaking up every minute with you. Some of your best banter came from Potions class, often at McLaggenâs expense, for better or worse.
When you opened your door, you were not entirely sure what to expect.
What you found, certainly was not it, though.
âRegulus, whatâ what are you doing here?â
Regulus looked incredibly sheepish where he stood, weight leaned on one of his hips as one hand scratched the back of his neck. The other held something in it that you couldnât quite detect as you took the awkward scene of him in.
âI, uh,â he starts, uncharacteristically inarticulate. âBarty said he couldnât walk you today, but wanted to give you something for, um, your anxiety? About the class? Or something like that. Anyway, here.â
The tips of his ears were burning red at the humiliation of being caught in the middle of whatever this was. He reached out his hand and opened it to reveal a small potions bottle â ironic â with some purple liquid inside.
âWhat is it?â you asked, taking it tentatively and turning it over in your hands.
âItâs meant to make you calm down and relaxâ not that I think you need to do that, just, Barty wanted to give it to you.â Regulus winces at his own inelegance. âI got some from James the other week, he apparently has a bunch stacked up in his dorm with the boys, for God knows what reason. Barty asked for one for you. So, here we are.â
âI donât really know what to say,â you trail off, looking between the potion and Regulus. âThanks?âÂ
âI, uh, will tell him that thenââ
âGods, no,â you cut him off. âDonât tell him that, he wouldnât appreciate it.âÂ
As you seem to be thinking over a response, Regulus adds: âIf it makes a difference, he said something to me about giving it to you on the off-chance that he was wrong and a massive wanker.â
You chuckle at that. âWell, heâs always a massive wanker,â you joke on reflex. âBut you donât need to act as an owl, Reg, Iâll thank him myself. And thank you for the potion.â
Regulus seems to let out a breath of relief at that, smiling a bit more comfortably at last. âGreat, well, Iâll see you around I guess.â
You smile curtly and give him a quick nod before seeing him all but run off.Â
Once heâs gone, you drink the potion and the effects are instantaneous. Your shoulders seem to loosen in places you didnât know they were wound up, your breathing regulates and your heartbeat slows. A little too late, you mull over that this was Jamesâs potion, and you probably should have been careful, given his track record in class. Nevertheless, the potion seems legitimate.Â
With a bit more breath in your lungs, you walk off to class, alone.
Barty could not make up his mind on whether to drag his gaze away from you when it instantly gravitated towards you, or if he could let it linger.
The feelings warring in his chest felt impossible to map out. On the one hand, you had snapped at him when he tried to help, which was shitty â on the other, he still didnât know what he was trying to help with or what compelled you to snap at him. What you were going through. Which honestly is on you, he thought, wincing at his own frustrations.
He was not one to dwell on small spats, but this was entirely unfamiliar territory to him. Barty didnât do relationships, at least he didnât think so before you came in like a freight train consuming his being. It was fun to finally have someone properly challenge him and do so with a beautiful smile on their face â the perfect situation for him. It was fun, until his heart began to hurt when you werenât near, until it was your laugh that ran through his head, guiding him away from a spiral. Until he realised he was not just down bad for you as Dorcas teased, he was something much, much worse.
And he had no idea how to handle it.
His infatuation with you was all-encompassing, a burning passion and loyalty that characterised having Bartyâs affection. He knew it, as did all his friends, but when it is with you, he doesnât know how to handle it. With a friend, he could snog, even shag, them at a random party and it wouldnât matter for either of them. With you, that first kiss, first anything, was so much more important. With a friend, if he pissed them off enough, they would just cool off without him for a while and then the slate was clear. With you â he had no idea what he would do if you disappeared. Would you come back? He was acutely aware that this was a dynamic he didnât know how to explore.
Now, it seemed like you needed his support, but wouldnât accept it. Didnât want him near it.
He had to respect that, he thought to himself. So, he did his best to tear his gaze away and leave you be.
With the amount of times your eyes met, he knew he wasnât being successful. He paid no mind to the fact that you did not avert your eyes, either.Â
His feet were tapping relentlessly on the ground, his eyes flicking all over the Potions classroom to keep them from you. Barty was losing his fucking mind and he had no idea what to do about it.
âMate,â Evan cuts off his distracted mental monologue that Barty himself couldnât really make sense of. âWould you bloody cut it off? Iâm trying to not kill us here.â
Barty does not dignify him with a response, but tries to calm his skittishness, albeit not overly successfully. He zeroes in on Slughorn and his peculiar facial expressions as he, a bit too excitedly for 8 in the morning, continues his explanation.
Something about a healing potion that is so particular that if brewed even slightly wrong, it becomes one of the most effective poisons in the world. Something about corrosive to the touch. Something about bezoars healing.
Barty settles his gaze on the bowl of bezoars Slughorn had on his desk, just in case, with a bad feeling in his stomach. He wondered if you felt the same.
As the pairs set to attempt the feat of making the potion correctly, Bartyâs eyes drifted back to you, happy to leave the work to Evan â who in turn was happy to work in the silence without his constant chatter.
Your shoulders were relaxed, though your brows were furrowed together as you reread the instructions for the thousandth time. He wondered if you had taken the potion he sent to you with Regulus, he wondered if it helped you. While he knew in his bones you were lying about it being what bothered you, he still could never be too sure. He wanted you to feel safe, whichever way he could ensure it.
He knows what thatâs called, which is why he is freaking out so to speak.Â
You kept shooting dirty looks at McLaggen whenever he tried to help, keeping him at armâs length from the potion, fueling the boyâs frustrations. Barty was quite certain he had seen you threaten him with your wand at one point when he tried to stir the potion. He couldnât blame you.
McLaggen, as incompetent as ever, was trying to make himself useful by reading the instructions aloud to you, though his exaggerated enunciation was more distracting than helpful. Barty withholds a snicker as he can tell you are silently begging him to shut up. The frustration on your face was palpable, the tension between you and your partner practically humming in the air. McLaggen, ever oblivious, didnât take the hint.
âAre you sure you donât need me toâ?â
âIâm sure,â you snapped, not looking up from the cauldron.
From across the room, you felt Bartyâs eyes on you again. His gaze had become a constant presence, burning into your skin. Even when you weren't looking at him, you could feel him there, lingering, watching, waiting. It was maddening, but also strangely comforting. You knew you had to talk together soon, but you still had no idea how to communicate your feelings, if you even dared to.
You had to snap yourself back into it to remain in control of your little situation at hand.
McLaggen, frustrated by being sidelined, huffed and crossed his arms. âItâs just stirring! How hard could it be?â
âApparently, harder than you think,â you muttered, casting him a side-eye. The potion was already starting to smell off, and you knew he had messed it up.
McLaggenâs face flushed in embarrassment, and before you could stop him, he reached for the ladle, his ego clearly bruised.
"I'll show youâ"
âWaitââ
It happened in a blur. His hand snuck past yours, clumsy and wild. It knocked against the cauldronâs edge, sending it tipping over. The thick, boiling liquid surged out, splashing across the table â and onto your leg.
The pain was instant, white-hot and searing, like your skin was being eaten alive. You screamed, recoiling as the potion sizzled straight through your pant leg, immediately finding flesh.
The room seemed to freeze for a moment, everyone turning to see what had happened. The smell of burning skin filled the air as you stumbled back, falling over your increasingly immobile leg, eyes wide with shock and pain.
The world around disappeared from you as you were consumed by the burning, not even able to hear your gasps of pain.
For that moment, no one did anything.
No one but Barty â Barty moved.
Without hesitation, without thought, he lunged across the room. He grabbed the entire bowl of bezoars, eyes never leaving you. His body collided with McLaggen, shoving him aside with a force that sent the boy slamming into the wall behind, just barely avoiding the poison himself. Barty didnât even glance at him; his focus was solely on you.
Somewhere in the back Slughorn made a sound of shock and disappointment that Barty blocked out.
He dropped down beside you, taking your shaking upper body in his arms. "You're okay, you're okay," he muttered in your ear, as he cradled your jaw with one hand and opened your mouth with another. With two quick, precise fingers he shoved the bezoar as far down your throat as he could, arm circled securely around your waist for when your body convulsed in response to the intrusion. "You're okay, I've got you," he continued to mumble, as if to himself this time, as he looked at you frantically.
Your body's trembling and your small gasps of pain faded, but your leg was still searing painfully and you still looked completely out of it.
Bartyâs heart lurched â he had never seen you like this. Never seen you so vulnerable, so hurt.
âBartyââ you gasped, your voice breaking in panic.
The classroom had erupted into chaos around you â students scrambling away from the spill, Slughornâs booming voice calling for calm. In it all, Barty's eyes kept looking you over, almost like he was itching to give you another bezoar just in case.
âYouâre okay,â he repeated, quieter this time, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the pain subsiding slowly. Barty's hands remained around you, grounding you essentially in his lap, keeping you tethered to the moment.
âSomeone fetch Madam Pomfrey!â Slughornâs booming voice cut through the heavy air as he rushed over, his face pale with panic. âQuickly now! That potionâ oh dearâ"
McLaggen stood behind him, mouth agape in shock and horror as almost all other students had lined up by the walls, putting distance between themselves and the potion. Everyone except Evan, who remained by his desk, grip tight on the wood as he looked in horror and concern.
Barty ignored him. He ignored everyone. His only focus was you â your shallow breathing, your wide, panicked eyes. He didnât even realise that his hands were shaking until you whimpered softly, and he felt his control slipping further.
âIâm taking her to the infirmary,â Barty said through gritted teeth, not waiting for permission.
Barty scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stood. The weight of you felt so fragile, so wrong. You were supposed to be strong, biting back with sharp quips and rolling your eyes at his antics. Not this. Not in pain and trembling in his arms.
âNow, now, Iâm sure Madam Pomfrey can come hereââ
âNo,â Barty said, his voice dark and dangerous, leaving no room for argument. âIâm taking her.â
âMr. Crouchâ wait! We shouldââ Slughorn tried again, but Barty was already moving, carrying you through the rows of desks and out the door.
His steps were quick but measured, and you were too disoriented by the pain and the shock to protest. Your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart the only thing anchoring you to reality.
âHang on, Treasure,â he murmured, his voice rough and shaky. âIâve got you. Youâre gonna be alright.â
You werenât sure when you closed your eyes, but by the time you tried to open them again, you were in the infirmary.
Your mind was swimming through a haze of pain and exhaustion. The world felt heavy around you, like you were dragging yourself up through thick water. At first, you werenât sure where you were â the sterile smell of potions and the soft rustling of sheets felt foreign, disconnected.
Then you shifted ever so slightly and the sharp sting in your leg brought it all crashing back.
The classroom. The potion. McLaggenâs bloody idiocy. The burning, searing pain as the liquid had spilled across your skin.
Barty.
Barty was sitting at your bedside, his usual composed demeanour shattered. His shoulders were hunched, his face tight with worry, and there was a wildness in his eyes that you had never seen before. The sight of him like that sent a pang of emotion through you, more potent than the lingering sting of the potion burn.
You swallowed thickly, your throat dry. âBartyâŠâ Your voice came out in a cracked whisper.
His head jerked up, his eyes locking onto yours in an instant. For a second, the relief that washed over his face was so overwhelming that it almost broke you. He moved closer, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out for your hand, stopping just before touching you, as if he wasnât sure if he should. If he could.
âYouâre awake,â he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of how you were feeling. âAre you⊠does it hurt? Are you in pain?â
You blinked up at him, your mind still foggy as the events of the day came rushing back in fragments. You remembered the burning pain, the panic that had clawed at your chest, and â Barty. Barty holding you, his voice in your ear, telling you that youâd be okay.
And now here he was, sitting beside you, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you but holding back as if afraid he might break you further.
"Iâ" you tried, but your voice cut off, throat hoarse from the bezoar you were increasingly remembering. "I think I'm fine."
Barty just looked at you, still searching, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. What an unfortunate theme for the week.
âItâs⊠itâs not as bad now,â you managed, your voice hoarse. The burning in your arm was still there, a dull throb beneath the bandages, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. âWhat happened? After⊠I donât know if I really rememberâŠâ
Barty swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain his composure. âPomfrey patched you up. You passed out from the pain.â He paused, his voice thickening. âIt was bad. You couldâveââ
He cut himself off, his fingers curling into fists as he looked away, his throat working visibly. âIt was a close call, Treasure.â
At his words, you realise how hard you were fighting the tears, the bottle you keep your emotions in clearly shattered by your impact with the floor.
"I'm alright," you whispered, to which he just nodded, beautiful face stained by a frown. Yeah, yeah, you thought you could hear him mutter.
"Barty?" you called softly, hoping for his attentive eyes to be back on you â they were in an instant. "Thank you."
"I would do anything for you," he whispered. "I just need you to be alright. I'm so sorry."
"For what?" Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "You did nothing wrong Barty. Youâ you did so good."
Barty leans his head on his fists curled up on your bedside. He was still slightly trembling. "I thought I lost you."
His words hit you like a physical blow. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the crack in his usually cool exterior, and it made your chest tighten with emotion. He wasnât just worried â he had been terrified. You could see it in the way he refused to meet your eyes now, as if he was still trying to gather himself, still fighting the lingering fear.
Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him like this, so undone, so vulnerable. It was strange when he was always the one so sure of himself, always the one in control. His usual composed mask had crumbled, leaving raw emotion exposed underneath. You wanted to kiss it better. You wanted to see more.
It was strange, you thought, lying there in the infirmary with a dull ache all throughout your body. Strange how, in moments like these, everything else â the fear, the confusion, the uncertainty â seemed to fall away. All that was left was Barty, his presence consuming every inch of your awareness.
"Barty..." you whispered again. When he looked up at you, his eyes were red-rimmed.
You simply turned your hand laying near his over. An open invitation.
He accepted it immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand so sweetly it hurt you.
"I thoughtâ" you start, voice breaking from emotion this time. "When it happened, all I could think about was you. How sweet you are with me even when I'm terrible, how stupid it is to let my emotions get in the way of that. I didn't even get to say sorry to you andâ" You take a deep breath. "I wanted to. I'm sorry, Barty."
He was shaking his head, cheek against your hand he was holding as it looked at you intensely. "Absolutely not. Apology accepted and then rejected. I don't want you to be sorry."
You try to interject, but he sits up, leaning on his elbow onto your bedside so you are at eye-level. "Nuh-uh. I won't allow it. Thank you, and I'm sorry too, but no."
"Will you at least accept the sentiment that I never meant to hurt you?" you whisper through a tired smile.
"Of course. I hurt myself. I was confused and scared andâ shit, this feeling thing is so bloody hard for no reason." You laugh slightly at that, wincing when it pains you. "I hated feeling like we weren't a team."
"Me too," you whispered, not trusting your voice. "I didn't want to fight, I just find it so difficult to trust. That I can, I don't know, show you everything and not run. Because I don't know what to do with myself if you do."
Barty's grip on your hand tightened. "I won't. I swear to you, I won't. That's what scares the shit out of me. How ridiculously much I care about you. What am I to do with that?"
A few tears spilled down your cheeks before you could stop it. His hand instinctively shot forward to wipe them away, frown deepening.
"Can we be scared and confused together?" you asked weakly.
For the first time since you woke up, you saw a smile grace Barty's face, clouded only slightly by his teary eyes. "I reckon we can, Treasure. Iâ I just need you."
You closed your eyes, triggering the release of a few more tears.
"You'll never lose me," Barty continued, pressing his forehead back against your intertwined hands. "I swear. I don't care what fight we have or how unsure we are. You're the only person whoâ" He stopped, his breathing hitching as if the words were too heavy on his vocal chords. "I need you."
Your heart clenched painfully at the raw emotion in his voice. The cool, confident Barty you were used to wasnât here right now. This was a Barty who was terrified and loving, who was stripped bare of all the usual bravado and snark. It made your chest ache in a way that was so full of feeling that it was almost overwhelming.
âI need you too,â you whispered, your voice barely audible.
He lifted his head slowly, his eyes locking onto yours again. There was something so vulnerable, so intense in his gaze that it nearly stole your breath away. He leaned forward then, hesitating only for a moment before his lips brushed gently against your forehead, lingering there as if he was grounding himself in the feel of you, the reality that you were still here.
âIâm not going anywhere,â he murmured against your skin. âI promise.â
For a moment, the weight of those words hung in the air, settling into the space between you. And despite the pain, despite everything that had happened, you felt a small flicker of warmth spark in your chest.
You brought your free hand up to the nape of his neck, guiding his lips from your forehead to your own, kissing him as softly as you could muster. His kiss was careful as he tried to pour as much emotion as possible. All the things you could not say yet, but cared for each other in spite of.
When you parted, you rested your foreheads together and you let out a shaky breath, your heart slowing as the adrenaline finally began to fade.
You opened your eyes to find Barty already looking at you with a slight smile â the look in his eyes was positively lovesick.
With the ease Barty's touch awarded you, you let out a half-choked laugh, relief expanding in your chest, which in turn widened his smile.
"What's so funny?" he asked, a teasing tone finally making it back into his voice.
"I'm just thinking about how ridiculous we are," you laughed, squeezing his hand. "And dramatic, Merlin's beard."
Barty huffed a laugh in return, shaking his head at you. "You knew what you were signing up for when you got with me. Theatrical is my middle name."
"Oh, so you admit it now, do you?"
"Only for you."
You gaze into his eyes and you realise â Barty is not the only one who is lovesick.
"Tell me now," you said, teasing tone finally back in your voice. It made Barty's heart soar, but not as much as your next sentence. "How did you trick me into falling in love with you, Junior?"
"I trick you? Love, I've been heads over heels for you since the first time you insulted me. You're the one who should fess up."
Barty's grin threatened to tear his skin apart as he shook his head.
âIs that so?â
âAbsolutely.â He shifted closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made your heart stutter. âYouâre impossible not to fall for.â
âGood,â you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. âBecause I think you're stuck with me now.â
Barty leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back, his eyes were alight with something that looked an awful lot like hope.
âStuck, huh?â
You smirked, raising an eyebrow. âDonât get cocky, Junior.â
âToo late, Treasure.â
âIn that case," you started, trailing off as if you grew uncertain of yourself once more. Barty's hold on you remained steadfast. "Can you stay? Just stay here with me, until I'm dispatched?â
âIâm not leaving,â he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a steady, grounding rhythm. âIâll stay as long as you want. You've got me.â
You felt yourself relax into the bed, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time in a long while, the tightness in your chest had eased. As your eyes fluttered closed, you heard Bartyâs voice again, soft and filled with so much emotion that it made your heart ache all over again.
âSleep well, my love."
#barty crouch junior#barty crouch junior x reader#barty crouch junior x you#barty crouch junior x y/n#barty crouch jr x reader#barty crouch jr x you#barty crouch jr x y/n#barty crouch jr#barty crouch x reader#barty crouch#barty crouch x you#barty crouch x y/n#barty#barty x reader#barty x you#barty x y/n#barty crouch jr fluff#barty crouch jr angst#barty crouch jr self insert#barty crouch jr reader insert#marauders#marauders era#marauders era reader insert#marauders era fanfic#marauders x you#marauders x reader#marauders x y/n#the slytherin skittles#slytherin skittles#slytherin skittles x reader
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Kageyama my man the love of my life (just don't tell Atsumu you know?)
He's so emotionally constipated my poor baby, and even if he navigates through his feelings a bit better when he's older it's⊠Still difficult, nevertheless he finds ways to share how he's head over heels for you. We know he's not the best at words when he hasn't had the time to think about it (if you give him a day or two he comes with some non intentional poetic stuff)âŠ.So I feel his way to express affection is through actions
He's your personal nail saloon artist, he's a bit wonky with the edges on that painting department but he uses the nail file with precision. It's also like he has magic hands or something cuz your nails never break after he starts taking care of them
What else? I feel he talks on his sleep, or at least mumbles. Not canon in what we see on the whole series but he has so many thoughts going on his head he HAS to let something out while he sleeps
Also, big hands, his hands are ridiculously large and calloused like you can't imagineâŠ.but they are incredibly gentle when they hold your face or when you feel him caressing your cheeks at night. Totally related I feel he's the type to wait for you to fall asleep so he can stare at you
Won't cry at your wedding, but you feel his gaze on you the whole celebration and it makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy
Tone deaf, I'm sorry but I feel he just sings with the same intonation he speaks (still joins you on karaoke and enjoys screaming when there's rock or something like that)
Knows shit ton of hair and skin care productsâŠ. Courtesy of Miwa
And I have more but like, I have my headcanons and fantasies all over the place I might come back to share them later đ„Č
I. Want to eat him alive. This is so cute.
Kageyama is so emotionally constrained that if you do something nice for him, or even simply say âI love youâ heâll just pull you in for a kiss on the cheek or a small, shy smile. But sure enough, when your head is on his shoulder, eyes focused on the tv, itâs so much easier for him to whisper a soft âI love youâ while he copies your stare at the television.
His nail techniques go so hard itâs crazy. Heâs got all the oils to make them strong, he files them to the perfect length and style (even though heâs best at squared filing) to make them easy to use in every day life. He typically denies your requests for him to paint your nails, but sometimes, he gives in to those sweet puppy eyes and gives you a few coat of paint. Just please donât tease him about flooding your cuticles, because heâs trying his best to learn for you.
HE SO DOES TALK IN HIS SLEEP, rambling about nonsense sometimes, then forming coherent conversations in others. One time, he grabbed by the shirt collar and yanked you close, whispering in your ear a fully verbalized âIâm pretty sure Sailor Mercury is in our basement. Or someone else. I donât know.â You were awake all night hoping, begging, praying, that it was sailor Mercury and he didnât see someone downstairs- and when you ask him about his dream, he shrugs and said he didnât have one. LIKE BROTHER HUH??
BIG HANDS BIG HANDS BIG HANDS MAKE BRAIN GO BRRRRRRRR BECause imagine like when youâre just laying on your sides, looking at each other in the most love youâve ever felt, and all he can do is bring a big hand to gently cup your cheek, thumb softly stroking the delicate skin of your under eyes. Your lids just barely flutter at the tickly feeling, and you nuzzle into the warmth of his palm, pressing a kiss to the calloused heel of his hand. He doesnât say or do anything, barely even smile, as his blue eyes glaze over your face adoringly. Even until your own eyes grow heavy, you feel his on you, grounding you and keeping you safe.
AND TOBIO IS NOT A BIG CRIER BUT he feels things so deeply, you basically see his brain buffer, cogs turning as his eyes glimmer and shine as he gazes at you. You know his mind is flooded with you, your future, your life together, and he feels so excited to spend every moment he can with you. He canât wait to marry you đ„șđ©·
KAGEYAMA TOBIO HAS NO SENSE OF SOUND, WE LOVE HIM SO MUCH. He cant whisper, he cant sing, heâs only able to do so when he doesnât think about it, he just has one solid tone as he tries to sing with you in the car. But he will belt out songs with you regardless, he wants to make you happy, even if he canât sing to save your life.
GRRRRRRR I LOVE HIM SO MUCJ TOBIO MY SWEETHEART đ„șđ©·
#please ignore how long this took#my writing has been so off and on đ„ș#but I hope you enjoy it đ„čđ©·#kageyama tobio#kageyama tobio fluff#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama tobio x reader fluff#kageyama tobio x gn!reader#kageyama tobio imagine#kageyama tobio haikyuu#kageyama#kageyama fluff#kageyama x reader#kageyama x reader fluff#kageyama x gn!reader#kageyama imagine#kageyama haikyuu#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader fluff#haikyuu x gn!reader#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x yn#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n
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Is the belief at all valid that ultimately there is nothing much we in the imperial core can do for the global south (i.e palestine) and that liberation is largely in their hands only? Was there any time historically where that wasn't the case?
Maybe I am just doom and glooming but it really doesn't feel like there is much we can affect (though I still attend protest and do whatever my party tells me to, I don't air out these thoughts because I don't think they are productive)
Primarly I feel like building a base here for when shit goes south is the only thing we can do
My friend, we can't forget that, while imperialism is committed outside of our reach, it is fueled, supported, and justified in our countries. National liberation movements fight in their own frontlines, and we fight in the rearguard. If you have the impression that any real progress is impossible from our position, that is a product of the very limited development of the subjective conditions in your country. You and I have seen a myriad of protests and encampments this last year, which have had overwhelmingly no material effects on the genocide, but this is not inescapable.
In Greece, where the KKE is a legitimate communist party in the eyes of a significant portion of the Greek working class, their organization in and out of the workplace is very capable. In the 17th of October they, co-organizing with the relevant union and other entities (small note because when this happened some tumblr users seemed to misspeak, this action would have been impossible without the help and involvement of the KKE, take a look at the US to see what trade unions do without communist influence), blocked a shipment of bullets to Israel:
And merely a week ago, they blocked another shipment of ammunition meant to further fuel the imperialist war in Ukraine:
The differentiating factor in Greece that is not present arguably anywhere else in Europe and North America is their strong and established communist party, even their presence exerts an indirect influence in the broader working class, communist or not.
So are the rest of us meant to sit in our milquetoast protests and watch on with envy at the Greeks? No, because these are subjective conditions, and we have control over them. Even if most actions we do don't achieve anything materially, we gain experience, and the base for a proper organization of our class is built up. It's not just building that base for when something goes wrong in our countries, it's building a better base for the very next mobilization, the next action, the next imperialist aggression. The student movement of the imperial core is better off now in terms of lessons to be learned after the encampments than if they hadn't done anything (and the utility of the encampments wasn't completely null anyway, some unis in Spain have ceased all economic and academic relations with Israel).
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{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Repairing Our Busted-Ass World
On poverty:
Starting from nothing
How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety NetÂ
How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year
Ask the Bitches: âIs It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?â
Understanding why people are poor
Itâs More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich
Why Are Poor People Poor and Rich People Rich?
On Financial Discipline, Generational Poverty, and Marshmallows
Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado
Is Gentrification Just Artisanal, Small-Batch Displacement of the Poor?
Coronavirus Reveals Americaâs Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights
Developing compassion for poor people
The Latte Factor, Poor Shaming, and Economic Compassion
Ask the Bitches: âHow Do I Stop Myself from Judging Homeless People?â
The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Donât Tell Me Whatâs Expensive
A Little Princess:Â Intersectional Feminist Masterpiece?
If You Canât Afford to Tip 20%, You Canât Afford to Dine Out
Correcting income inequality
1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap
One Reason Women Make Less Money? Theyâre Afraid of Being Raped and Killed.
Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better
Are Unions Good or Bad?
On intersectional social issues:
Reproductive rights
On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights
How To Get an AbortionÂ
Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor
You Donât Have to Have Kids
Gender equality
1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay GapÂ
The Pink Tax, Or: How I Learned to Love Smelling Like âBeargloveâ
Our Single Best Piece of Advice for Women (and Men) on International Womenâs Day
Bitchtastic Book Review: The Feminist Financial Handbook by Brynne Conroy
Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the WorkplaceÂ
Queer issues
Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances
Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between
Racial justice
The Financial Advantages of Being White
Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job
The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review
Something Is Wrong in Personal Finance. Hereâs How To Make It More Inclusive.
The Biggest Threat to Black Wealth Is White Terrorism
Coronavirus Reveals Americaâs Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender InequalityÂ
10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell NowÂ
Youth issues
What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans
The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships
Ask the Bitches: âI Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?â
Identifying and combatting abuse
When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse
Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace
Ask the Bitches: âHow Do I Say âNoâ When a Loved One Asks for Money⊠Again?â
Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?
On mental health:
Understanding mental health issues
How Mental Health Affects Your Finances
Stop Recommending Therapy Like Itâs a Magic Bean Thatâll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown
Bitchtastic Book Review: Kurt Vonnegutâs Galapagos and Your Big Brain
Ask the Bitches: âHow Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?â
Coping with mental health issues
{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care
My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHDÂ
Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care TacticsÂ
On saving the planet:
Changing the system
Donât Boo, Vote: If You Donât Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream
Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less
The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum
Season 1, Episode 4: âCapitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?â
Coronavirus Reveals Americaâs Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor RightsÂ
Coronavirus Reveals Americaâs Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender InequalityÂ
Shopping smarter
You Deserve Cheap Toilet Paper, You Beautiful Fucking Moon Goddess
You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid
Fast Fashion: Why Itâs Fucking up the World and How To Avoid It
You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry⊠Just Like Coco Chanel
6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending
Join the Bitches on Patreon
#poverty#economics#income inequality#wealth inequality#capitalism#working class#labor rights#workers rights#frugal#personal finance#financial literacy#consumerism#environmentalism
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Grocery shopping with Steve Harrington should not be such an arousing task, but it is.
It so is.
Eddie swears on all of his calloused fingers that watching Steve strut down the cereal aisle with his little shopping cart is better than hand stuff.
Seriously. He always walks a few feet behind Steve, just to get the perfect view of that award winning ass (Eddie made him a trophy for it last Valentineâs Day - itâs on their mantle).
Theyâve been together for what? Eight years? And it never gets any less sexy. Watching him reach for the granola bars on the top shelf, stretching his annoyingly tucked in shirt.
Eddie pretends to peer through imaginary opera binoculars as Steve reads over the nutrition label. Steve flips it over a couple of times because he always forgets which brand he likes better - the blue box or the red box. Eddie never reminds him that his favorite is the blue box because the whole charade is too adorable.
But once Steve figures it out, he tosses the blue box into the cart, and Eddie always lets out this rumbly throat sound at the sight.
Steve turns his neck to look at Eddie. âThis again?â
âThis always.â Eddie catches up to Steveâs side at the canned food section, slides his hand in Steveâs back pocket. âNever not this.â
Steve rolls his eyes and bends down to grab a few cans of chicken noodle soup. Which holy fuck, seeing his boyfriend at a 75° angle holding his favorite soup preference? Eddie might as well be packaged and placed on the shelf. Cause his mind is turning to liquid. Heâs becoming a bowl of horny broth at the sight of Steve all domestic and bent over.
Eddie quickly flicks off his jacket because the entire store just warmed up exponentially. Global warming doesnât have shit on Steve Harrington holding discounted canned goods.
Steve lightly smacks Eddie's arm. âPull yourself together.â
âIâll pull your self onto my self.â
âReally?â Steve snorts. âThat was the best you could come up with?â
âYeah well, the lower quadrant of my brain shut off the second I visualized your ass dimple in the middle of the bread aisle.â Eddie explains, untucking one edge of Steveâs shirt.
âSorry for the inconvenience to your grocery-kink brain.â
âYou should be.â Grocery kink. Steve with a shopping cart kink. Eddie has both, no doubt.
And itâs totally true. The bread aisle is usually where all hope is lost for him. Fluffy breads, kneading dough, squishy carbs all around them. Steveâs sides are just begging to be squeezed in that aisle (amongst other places). The deli employee outwardly gawks as Eddie pokes at Steve's waist, pinching any area of skin that he can get his hands on.
"Just making sure the products are nice and fresh!" Eddie shouts to the employee, hugging Steve firmly from behind. The poor meat-slicing guy laughs nervously before scurrying into the stock room. Honestly, Eddie should probably feel more sympathetic but it's so hard to focus on anything else when Steve kisses his cheek. Accepts his weird affections fully.
"These people don't get paid enough to put up with your shit." Steve is laughing as he says it though. Clearly not that bothered by all of the attention he's getting. That's part of the reason they work so well together. They're absolute attention whores, equally.
"Okay, cut it out." Steve wiggles out from Eddie's grasp. "You're gonna smush the sourdough."
Eddie freezes. Mulls over the consequences over the next thing he's about to say. "Is that an invitation?"
"Ew."
"You said it."
"You twisted it."
"How could I not?"
"You need help." Steve turns down the next aisle, still speaking as he stays on task. "Preferably the kind that involves a person with a legal pad and a couch that you can lie down on."
Eddie snickers, thoroughly loves it when Steve bites back. Makes the chase feel like it just started, even after all these years.
He keeps it together for roughly twelve more minutes, which is probably a record. Eddie also deserves a trophy on their mantle for that - he's gonna hint to Steve about investing in one whenever they get back home.
But the aisle where Eddieâs composure levels malfunction entirely, is the frozen food section. See, whenever Steve opens the door to get milk or eggs or whatever essential dairy item they need, a rush of frigid air blows out. Makes Steveâs already bitable skin all bumpy. His neck is covered in little chill bumps, all of his baby hairs stick up with his raised skin.
This is the only instance where Eddie mildly wishes he were a cannibal, just to give Steve a little chomp. A little nibble at his change in skin texture. Eddie's not even sure why the chill bumps send him over the edge but they do - every damn time.
âBaby, weâve talked about this.â Steve says once Eddie gets him pinned up behind the corner freezer in the very back.
"There were no snoopy old ladies around this time." Eddie licks all the way up to Steve's ear, tugging gently around the edges. "I checked."
Steve huffs once before taking Eddie's face with both hands, kissing him deep. The rest of his body is cold from the surrounding freezers, but Steve's lips are warm. Hotter every time Eddie's mouth connects to his again. Steve still tastes like the nectarine samples they had back at the produce aisle. The taste drives Eddie to suck on Steve's bottom lip, drinking up any leftover flavor he can. Make Steve's natural pout even more plush than it normally is.
He untucks the rest of Steve's annoying polo - lets his hands slide all the way around, landing at the small of Steve's back. Eddie presses his fingers into Steve's skin, making him shiver. Causing more chill bumps to rise. Ones that he created this time.
They've kissed like this over a thousand times by now, but it always feels different. Itâs a new kiss on a new day.
And Eddie couldn't give a single fuck if the deli employee or the snoopy old lady saw them making out next to the lactose-free cheese selection. He'd show off his stupidly gorgeous boyfriend everywhere, make a complete spectacle out of it every damn time.
Steve would let him do it too. Eddie bets that Steve would let him get away with a full anarchist uprising if he wanted. Which he does. Kinda. After they're done kissing, obviously.
They stop only because Steve lets his lips part and his fingers drag down Eddie's chest. And whenever Steve does that move, he's approximately thirty seconds away from moaning explicit words. Loudly too. Eddie knows all of Steve's physical indicators by heart now. Itâs practically Eddieâs native language, he would speak only that one if he could.
Eddie takes the cue to stash all of his hormones away - goes back to dotting small pecks all over Steve's face. He needs to get Steve laughing instead of panting. It's safer that way. Eddie isn't trying to get arrested in a supermarket for christ's sake (although that would make one hell of a story for family reunions).
They're sort of blotchy, all pinks and reds, as they get to the checkout line. The cashier must think their complexion is permanently like this. Every time sheâs seen them, theyâre blushed-up like Vegas showgirls. Eddie is immune to the embarrassment of the situation. He's pretty sure Steve is too - he can tell by the way Steve is still leaning all over him while he fumbles to get his wallet open. All love-drunk and kittenish.
They head back to their car, and Eddie gets one last look at Steve's signature shopping cart strut. He sighs dramatically - crushed inside that he'll have to wait till their next grocery run to see it again.
"That's it." Steve says after Eddie sighs for the fifth time. "You're returning the cart."
"Why?"
"It's punishment for your ridiculous behavior."
"Rude."
"Necessary."
"Fine." Eddie snatches the handle and stomps all the way to the cart corral at the front of the store.
This is an outrage. Steve should know that his sexy cart-walking encore is the best part of Shopping Day. Seeing him walk further away before returning - always doing a little hair ruffle thing as he comes back. It's Eddie's own version of Baywatch and Steve is ruining it.
He slides into the passenger seat, slamming the car door to emphasize his anger.
"Steve Harrington, I'm so fucking mad at y-"
Eddie can't even finish his sentence before Steve's mouth is on his. It's a messier kiss this time, Steve is doing all the moving while Eddie tries to figure out what's going on. He pulls back, raising both eyebrows.
"I get it now." Steve answers Eddie's nonverbal 'what the fuck' question.
"Get what?"
"The shopping cart thing." Steve looks Eddie up and down. "I get it."
Holy shit. "Were you checking me out?"
Steve nods. Shrugs. Nods again.
"How much time do you think we have before the ice cream melts?" Steve motions to the backseat, tucking in his lips, hiding a smirk.
Oh. That. They're doing that.
"I'd say we have..." Eddie checks the nonexistent watch on his wrist. "More than enough time."
They haven't had desperate car sex like this since their first year of dating. It's so good that Eddie wonders why they stopped having desperate car sex.
For the rest of the car ride home, they're obnoxiously touchy-feely. Eddie's hand stays glued to Steve's overpriced jeans. The denim is much softer than any pair of jeans that Eddie owns. Maybe that's why they cost a fortune.
Steve takes one hand off the steering wheel whenever there's a straight shot - rubs his fingers over Eddie's knuckles. Bounces off his rings like stepping stones.
They're nauseating. If Eddie saw any other couple act like this, he'd throw tomatoes ate them. Taunt them mercilessly.
But Steve Harrington is the prototype that future scientists will use one day to build their genetically flawless human race. So Eddie is allowed to be as nauseating and revolting as he wants.
Their plan failed. The ice cream is completely melted by the time they get home. But who fucking cares? Eddie is dating someone with his same weird shopping cart kink and that's all he could ever ask for.
And besides, that just means that theyâll have to go grocery shopping again.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#I should've been writing for either of my two wip but nope#I made this instead lol#I had domestic steddie on the brain and the only solution was to write them a strange little grocery scene
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